Thursday, February 3, 2011

Wedding Program Story

not say it was a robbery.

From the consummation of our elimination from the Copa -do not say it was a robo- I mulling over the desirability of publishing this post. A hundred times I started and a hundred times I've thrown in the trash. But despite the reluctance, disgust, anger, powerlessness and humiliation I feel, and with me all the feelings at Blanquirroja, I can not allow silent. Not with my silence.

This blow that in the light of day, with malice aforethought, have given us in the first leg Undiano Mallenco and Teixeira Vitienes in turn, has been the "mother of all defeats -not say it was a robbery - and recorded here as a premise, that our team never was - I had not left him, ready to pass the knockout Cup One bad game and a worse outcome in our stadium and left things very difficult. Chamartín then spent what was written in the script from that in the ETF designed remote control that Machiavellian and matchmaking system, which coincidentally, - things of the draw - he avoided crossing between Madrid and Barcelona until the very end. I will not continue to insist on something that we all saw, and unfortunately, all anticipated.

I'm more interested to look ahead and above all else, to defend the honor, caste and pride of my players, my team, my flag and my shield. The red are ours, "said the astonished Bilardo, a guy who smelled like no stench that left in its wake the mob of soccer in Spain and the power I had, and has, adultery, no shame any Sporting competition. So, always, but now more than ever, we believe defeated, there must be with this staff and this beloved club of our interlinings, which has suffered in the last month, robbery after robbery by thieves in power. Go

victim is not my style, not the President of Sevilla. Whining and making excuses, either. But it is very disappointing race in these conditions and urges change. This is the point of this post. Using means I have to assume that we are a pain in the ass for certain interests, and that inherently are not willing to turn the other cheek. We must fight this rule that prevents us from breathing, which shamelessly rigs the outcome of the competition, without blushing twisting the fate of those who have the courage to face the absolute power of the dictatorship arbitration, an instrument of punishment in the service of those who pay them.

Let us use our weapons, we fight this hierarchy sits at the right hand of the powerful. Pintemosnos our faces crimson ink to come and see us tremble, and shook the stands of the Bernabeu panic, seconds before another lineman, one more, committed the outrage of Alun Negredo goal.
will win this battle and our reward will wash wounds with tears of the defeated enemy. We will run. Or give a step backwards. Have crossed the line of what is tolerable and we can not afford. We are not trampled by my silence. No turning back in this war. Sports of course, but war after all, against injustice, against those who dare to tarnish our glorious shield against tainted spokesmen chiripitiflauticos with white mana. We met one hundred years to allow us to trample. Nor have we come here to bow their heads. Football always gives you a rematch, and when that happens, a chemical we, in the light, hearts Sevilla. Here I am, here I go on, red and white passion as a witness.

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