in First! (Chronicle of a fan) Santiago, 31 October 2006 - November 2, 2006. Melipilla
The journey passed in a few words. Is that the nerves and anxieties were there. A bit of crunch match so there was not much to say, but much to be desired. time he had spent a week full of anxiety and restlessness. Circumstances had made a game which in itself promised to be transformed into a decisive duel. A safety pin, a party that promised to be memorable. And while waiting caused thought to concentrate on it, what Hurricane absorbing, that the nights are endless and you do not have no sleep or hunger. The nerves did laugh softly, and they passed before the eyes data, the possibilities, that "and if we win" ... Even stranger was not only surprised screaming, as if he were before the court. Felipe had lent me "The Clinic", but just threw him a glance, the concerns kept me from reading. After the toll appeared Melipilla. In the radio and at that hour, 15:00, passed on the game. Vicuña Mackenna While we were on we heard the testimonies of Lota fans who had arrived early for the city of four devils. Few cars and few people were circulating: Between Superclasico and the party that we were going, surely people are starting to save for paying attention. Pardo Advancing through the adobe houses welcomed us. Once on the bus were fans of Lota majority, and some of them we discussed what was happening in Chillán and other things to defuse. On reaching the bus stopped Benitez. A mass of fans Lotina really flocked to the Municipal melipillano, attempting to enter the stadium. In the distance, at the top of the east gallery, were melipillanos some fans. The bus took a detour to reach the Rodoviario, and looked Ortúzar get another trip, this time the blue and white fans. Apparently arriving an hour and a half before a measure was not exaggerated. descended on the highway and then called the man entries. Everything is ready, we were waiting by the door where they enter the ambulance and fire services. She felt the excitement of people as we crossed, and there, in front, jockey and a man bag (not a "man of the bag") raised his hand to say he had recognized me. Made several presentations, had to settle the issue of entries. Three of those who had boarded the bus we were separated, entered by Benitez. The four who were from now on we entered the door Ortúzar girl, and agreed to get in the east against the sun, just because the presence of the bar would make it more entertaining. Then we would realize that we were wrong, and also the sun was not going to be a big hassle. The force of the wind, which ran all afternoon, reversed the effects of the sun. We are located near the bar, then on the "popular" high enough to see the game well. For what was missing for over an hour. Music enlivened the atmosphere of memory, and the Memo we remembered all those songs of Richard and Buddy Zabala Hermanos, which are not the typical repertoire of "DJ" (a term that reminded us complicit in a song of our idol, whom I accompanied the Right) Municipal melipillano. But soon returned to normal, with cumbias. Hunger began to make some cash, and then unsheathed the sandwiches and cookies, in order to fool the stomach. After the "mange" breath. The Lotina began to swell, obviously bothering melipillana bar, and soon to respond. The fans always shouted when t spread Meliadictos giant, with much pride that has occurred in other fields. And we were on that floor when suddenly something for the gallery. The giant flag! With enthusiasm, although the first time without understanding much that went on, people, among which I included, was lowering the flag and shaking with excitement, clapping when they retreated. That guaranteed us entertainment giant flag for the party. Party for not missing much. Nostalgia looked at people, curious about the stadium environment, Memo and Zaldee already with headphones in their ears, and I that of pure anxious not want to listen to the radio Supermarkets notices Emelectric Romanini and I already know by heart, and challenge me to sing the jingle "promotional. Preferred to spend the nerves in silence, wind noise and chants. Meanwhile, we had fun watching Traverso and heating company to make moving your feet to one side to the other. I looked sideways and saw what incredible people standing. Lots of it. I remember the images of "Federico Schwager" with the people behind those bars and corridors of the week I said "no, here we can not get people to stand." There were. The audience had outgrown expectations, subtracting several minutes for the match. When I turned twenty minutes missing the radio and took out the notebook. Everything is ready, and only the kick-off. First came the Lotina, led by its typical miner, who remembered seeing last week in "Balls." And then, Melipilla Sports! We scream for them, and I waved my flag, but soon the screams were silent. Is that the white powder extinguishers covered us, but rarely have I been dusted with more happiness. Dropped from above the giant flag and shouting and jumping shake, to encourage a team that needed it. After the smoke raise the flag and sat down. Played the game. Soon Sports nerves showed on the court Melipilla I passed, and the sweets were made proportional to the errors that showed the team of my loves. I remember having loosed the hilarity of my friends with a long list of sweets that I took a Lotina that one of the Colt fauleó about the gallery visitor: a real string of expletives that made me realize that I had to keep some calm. Quiet it was difficult to keep up with the goals which disappeared Lagunas, and those who let in Lota. It was the first half and ended at zero. And I thought we was going to happen as in all previous matches. anyway to go back I got equipment I shouted waving my flag and to encourage them, though I hear. The prayers of the week were heard, because, apparently, reached the goodness to give him a victory to the fans melipillanos, the usual and occasion. A hand understandable, but it made no difference. When legal Lotina her out from inside, we watched with a face "went, right?". And Osses marked the center of the court, and players could manage to embrace Melipilla. It was goal! Yes, it was scored! Gooooooool! Me-li-pi-llla, I-li-pi-lla! What stops Melipilla! Gol, yes, what did it matter how? Was to smile, to scream, to wave the flag in the wind replying to Pericás and players who called to encourage. That woke the computer and woke up with joy. But there was more. While I expected to face Luis Mauricio and here we are silent remembrance to a corner of Johan Fuentes screaming like in the Roman circus "goal! Goal! Goal!". Then came the other goal. A goal. Pericás him all honor to his nickname, and Reno have been there I would have said "Did you see that it was Master?". Nostalgia knows how to celebrate that goal, that goal that made me jump wildly on the board, even at the risk of falling. Gooool! 2-0, now, now did seem ready! And why not believe it, if the court saw the end the team that won so many matches, the hearing that I had more to do, because he lost to Curico, with Magellan did not play anything, and it almost ended up causing Lota infarction. Now, and earned some ole! enthusiastic and excited because I was the first time I saw something, because in 2004 the crowd was just recovering, and the 92 was too young and my grandmother has not talked to me about this team, I still had the master of flags, and I went solo, she and my father one afternoon in Santa Laura, with fewer people than party meeting Liberal and there, no one around, we play that team in white and blue. the time was approaching. Back in the northwest, where the first time I went to Bravo Roberto Santibanez had to endure a while because I did not know that Dad always comes late Memo to parties, the silence is felt. Here, the carnival was about to unfold. The whistle did more than give the starting signal. Melipilla in First! was the cry, and far away in banking, red melted into a hug. The people who were piling up behind the scoreboard, that same criminal that Sunday before winter had changed without had got the goal, ran onto the field. Led by the checkered flag with blue colts, prouder than ever, approached the players, those who had achieved all this. Those who today replaced the memories of that balloon, U. Conce, evil arbitration before the Catholic, the league ruled that in Rancagua, a joy that was the end and beginning of a dream. giant lowered the flag again waving with more enthusiasm than ever. Then they came to greet excited. We applaud the four standing, watching his excitement. The skinny Medina, one of the interview in the "Triumph" he had a paper tape with my name, looked like a kid goat climbed on the fence, screaming, probably remembering her son. Franco Cabrera thought the head of the bar and had seized the flag with the Colts, making flaming. All-white flags flew, the wind whipping the horses as far away from the visits began. I hugged the boys, the girl, by the company, for joy, for the blessed moment. Players were leaving, but decided to turn around, and again the shouts and poor which had gone before, it is a carnival, a carnival is a carnival, Melipilla is immortal, and was immortal More than ever, at least for me, the journey, the money spent, year and a bit more on the blog, two hours each Sunday and then staying to write on the computer, it was all worth it. finally went to sing with Musrri in the dressing rooms. We took some pictures, and I was sincere. I wanted to go. I thought about going to the Plaza, but it was late, and the city where no one would understand the shirt he wore was waiting, waiting for us. I took a few glances at the "Roberto Bravo" to never forget again, with nostalgia and joy that radiated. We went to Ortúzar and I decided to wave the flag, amid some honking, some of them responded. Was a party. The white paper filled the east gallery, but now we saw in the distance, from the Rodoviario. Already in the bus, the radio never talked about our success, and yes the U. Colo Nothing mattered. There had been, to see it. To not forget it anymore. like in those "things of football" that has its well-earned space on my shelf, it's time for thanks. A Gonzalo, propaganda makes me, contacted me and warned me not to put his picture on a reply. Patricio, who was not problems in buying 8 tickets to this individual and to discontinue its work to letting me go out. A Juan Carlos, who we were sending us mails some mornings, the kind where you could barely sleep. In Mauritius, for all the nervous talk of the week, and especially by the gesture that he had to say goodbye. A Badir, who endured the tears to get me some pictures, which I will in the coming days. Andrea, because someone could rightly required me to spend those hours somewhere else, but she did not, left the stadium with me. A Memo and Zaldee, which were more and some supporters left Santiago in this strange adventure. Diego, who called me "dude fan" when I wrote, since more than ever that I can later go to a party. And my godmother who, as I wrote it, without it I had not been there. From the capital of Chile, a fan of Sports Melipilla, Eduardo Peñailillo. This is a "co" with "The adventures and misadventures of Sports Melipilla" Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
2006 Annual Statement. (Did they think were going to get my annual address? Well this year will not give in taste. I give the taste.) For more background on my annual addresses, visit: http://elpoleno.blogspot.com/2005/10/discurso-anual-2005.html Santiago, October 12 , 2006
(I know that this effort is useless anyway finish typing 15 in the morning, without sleeping. I know that this effort is in vain anyway, does anyone write a speech for his birthday? )
Well, they're 19. This year there are no dreams to give away, or budget to send letters. However, before delving into tragedies, I read someone I should not read, and remembered that the flames of hell have not even touched me. It is necessary, therefore, write something else.
Santiago, October 15, 2006
(6:00 AM)
(prediction fulfilled. With a smile after seeing two bottles of Polish vodka - "to buffalo" - and many stamps of this country, I continue.)
"In the absence" of dreams and hopes, I've tried to give in other discourses, what remains? (Because now I feel I could give those strange assets) That question has been haunting me, and I have found an answer.
In the current context, without Institute far less time than I ever had to go to roam city streets, and many other incidental absences, the moments appear stronger and more valued. And it's not bad to learn to appreciate the moment, to live, to enjoy this moment, although it could well happen later, is unique and unrepeatable (and imperfect, but that does not matter). This year could be said to have missed several things, but moments to treasure. Come to my mind some. A shirt instead of feared water pump, an ice cream to soothe the nerves in days too hectic. An unexpected overnight trip to a neighboring province, and an even more unexpected bike ride, with vertigo of walking the streets and a strange sense of peace. Dances in hidden alleys and walks of micro do in two minutes (but that train could take half a day to do, right?). Everyday life such as the walk every Friday at Alameda, always a good time, or open a box of CDs and there find ...
(O be writing this speech and a song that says there is a place in the sun will stop. )
(And then you stop talking about fighting another lost in your city ... Someone called the radio?)
moments of which has been very full this year are something to be thankful. Another is the
presence ... And here I have to make an explicit reference. Because it was you, Claudia Pavez of words that remain, which I talked about the presence of heart a year ago, and made me see something I had not seen. I have come to believe you were right, that was the most important. And that the others will come to you ... because this year I remember having to fight someone to claim their presence, and have come together on their own moments of roads. Of strange modes appear presences ... As in the Sports Blog Melipilla. Believing an entire year writing for almost anyone, and it reaches the anniversary that readers have names and faces. Not only are, are. Recognizing that many times one hopes, wants, and needs the tangible and visible presence, to know this in the hearts of others and "having" to those who bring in the soul, is a considerable blessing.
and feelings. Those who have avoided for quite a time (rather, I avoided) rephrase that in words, for some, lovely. Until I learned that other gestures do no harm. May have lost the memory of the time or the exact situation, but I can not forget, Seba, the first time I gave you a hug and left to call "Wheel." Remember? Well, although at times been believed to express feelings are not worth it, sometimes that "effort was in vain, I must admit that those occasions are minimal, and that I am wrong in thinking that, because although the moment I think the people and situations have changed, then maybe it was valuable. I think I gained much more than they could have lost (not really know what I lost ... I think nothing) in this process of expressing feelings and stop fearing it. I won enough, many people helped along the way, and continues to help. Best of all is that they are. While we may not be the same, is his memory and his mark.
Last but not least, (and further something which is always) learning. Nor can I forget the phrase "things that everyone has learned from the other", which always travels in my wallet, written in that paper did not expect.
had a doubt, and I have four answers. And I have some poor, because I think that is something for which I give thanks. And if Teiilier
said that the only truth is that "breathe and stop breathing", here I am, breathing 19.
you soon. Those who know me, know I use little "goodbye."
Eduardo Esteban Barra Peñailillo
President Poleni popular (and other nations imagined).
editor, publisher and editor of
"The adventures and misadventures of Melipilla Sports."
ideologue and idle after "micro tickets, The Ticket fotolog!
Webmaster
"Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus in English."
1st year student of BA in History, Universidad Alberto Hurtado.
Member of youth training (3 years, more than 100 meetings, "and yet" we can not have a name !!??) of San Rafael Parish.
the 4th the 7th I 2000-I 2006, National Institute.
"Pepón Doll", "Peñailo", "pollen" ...
And as many titles rather than imaginary. Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
Roll the pencil, roll, roll. Banda Giving oral evidence is not an easy matter, I think, while I, like my colleagues who sit on the benches review their notes, of retaining vast amounts of information that is absolutely impossible that we could retain ten minutes, although insurance would pay if someone can promise that, to put it in a way, become "swallow" those sheets of paper filled with notes, and articles accumulated in those piles of photocopies of which there are only four copies of each and have to fight them before someone else take it early. But it is not possible, and there we are. We are waiting for the executioner cut off the head, to make an analogy. As man is usually a be (forgive the redundancy) unable to keep quiet, especially after suffering a significant accumulation of feelings, the output of the first victims turns out to be something that upsets. The company, which leads to the course for any activity or any of the existing long called for a strike or demonstration, comes out in a state of near hysteria, pulls out his cell phone and vent publicly and privately, crying in a broken voice that he knew the answers to the questions posed to others who crossed the threshold of what is usually a room, but now it has become a torture chamber, beside her, that he did not read one article was devoted to such a "green card", a word that does not sound, I think, as I so often look bored with the same notes and I have decided to stoic for my business, to Medieval Philosophy classes serve me something: The questions I will, two items will be I could not read due to lack of dossiers, so I planted a nice one as a note, and there is not much to ask. Stoicism, I repeat, to convince, as pessimism has worked on many other occasions. are gradually leaving the other mourners of the occasion, with eyes lowered heads, short, and resigned expression. Wonder if he has known someone who has folded his hand to the target, or rather, a executioner questions turn, as in the first class had told us not to be afraid, but in oral evidence to Students usually fare poorly. One, I respond. A. Rather than betting on the chances of emulating, I betting the resigned stoicism, because I know I will not learn or remember the characteristics of the ceramic Molle in the short or long moments of my stay. Suddenly, with slightly satisfied smile and a touch of sadism as they run out dentists find their patients, he, the teacher that the other day looked down by its size and now has become impassable giant, Sphinx to which we are not any Theseus, out to find new victims. Some and some take their backpacks, ready to go. In a couple of faces you see some optimism, or a laugh that they are nervous. In others, frowning. "Missing one," he says, and I, who have tried to keep to quiet all this time that makes anyone would freeze a little blood, look at the rest, and no one stands up. Nobody gets up. Resignation, I think. Let's finish this, as I close the bag to go, last gladiator who bow to Caesar in this fight, and pulled out as the only weapon which trident, a pencil. A pencil, yes. A little trick that I have recommended. And not to write down the answers in hand. If oral evidence before a torpedo no worth. I keep the short hallway, and I join the line of trembling and nervous, sitting, waiting, "a stroke of luck" as that song by Lucho Jara said. You know, know if we will be playing dance with ugly or luciremos us on the track. While asking the names I take to practice with the pen, which has only one useful for me. Roll it. I brought it just to roll with the hands, with that passage from one side to the same side, spiral and endless cycle, I disentangle and relax, if that's possible. Sorry to pass between my thumb and forefinger, moving as if all that happened at the time, like a breeze that comes not know where, setting a different time of the second, different clock ticking . In the midst of this sensation asks my name. I tell you, with acute middle that little voice that I never would contest to win a radio announcer. "Peñailillo" he repeated, and, like all those people, like most people, like my friend's dad, launches a funny anecdote believed, noting that he had a girlfriend in the basic of that name, which he said "Peñagrillo. He laughs slightly, I invent some laughter. Once also told me so. People often have problems with my surname, and others as well. Past. I do not let me disturb the memory. I roll the pencil a little more. begin the questions. The first to respond outlines a response, stumbling, but manages to something coherent. A five award a few drops of sweat that run from the hair. Next question, and is one of an article I read and I can not remember. A chubby seems also passed swiftly by that document is not very useful, do not know. Then a girl who usually greet me, and uses what she calls "bullet lens." Neither succeeds. I would not be the exception, if my turn, I think, and I roll the pencil rapidly, anxiety, someone answers, I do not know. He is someone who has good background. "Do not deliver the job," said the professor. The guy did not intend to outline excuses. Already, the same question. And he knows. Something known. Yes, something known, the intensity decreases and returns my money at that rate of Rosario you purchased while you hear about the weichafe and provide details, of course, could not recall anywhere in my memory. ends, having convinced relative to the teacher, and I looked at the pen spin, twist and turn. Still another, which gives a very clear answer to your question. Then the girl next to me. She is nervous, you'll note in his voice, and I do not watch it. There's the pen, providing the necessary distraction, diverting my attention with its passage through the tips of my fingers, tips of my fingers, I think, as she is pitching ideas, some correct, others that have nothing to do with Culture Llo -Lleo, and Professor calmadita tells you, do not be nervous, and she swallows, returned to the charge, but nothing much happens but again confused. I shake my head, and saying to myself that no, it's not Llo-Lleo, which is Molle, and look at the top of the pen. She finished, and I raise my head, while turning the device that has managed to divert my attention from the nerves and bald head that looks at me, and I look with some comfort and a hint of a smile, and asks me talk to you about Aconcagua. Aconcagua. It took me a moment's rest, two forward and two reverse turns the black pencil that accompanies me to draw an "as is" makes me win reprimanded for using a crutch. Another twist in pencil, safety, and changed to a "is" because it is PIT in Central Chile, and look at me "well" and then I remember the exact dating, which brings a smile to the Inquisitor hear, and then I remember the presence of irrigation canals, there is no rock art, as I said Niemeyer, and even out of my memory the categories of ceramics and serving, remembering the pucos, which had been smoothed brown "look egg "for their coarseness, but that it was essential for its role in cooking. I pause. "Parties and English horse," he says, I remember the colt, a foal that few know, and tell me continue. I remember two or three things. "Anything else?" He asks. I roll the pen with audible clicks and see if the pace gives me another answer. Nothing more. I hope, look at the sheet, and says, "a six ...". Do not listen to what follows. A six is \u200b\u200bthe number that will follow, is more than I expected. Second round of questions. Five truck was in the first two of the respondents, because they just can answer one or two words about what you ask. My prayer has pencil passes slowly between my fingers, and after hearing the number of four letters and mentally I can go with something music, and no longer "Boxers" because though they bring a knockout in the last question, at least I won a round. The first container is removed, and our executioner out of an ace up his sleeve that he had cut many heads in the previous round. Question by a "maca". The fat man laughs nerves, and do not know. A one. The girl with the glasses does not know, and attempts to articulate an excuse for a license that no one can understand well. It is not helpful, of course. It is less people in that room, and not delivered the work of again. And when he says "Inca" I know that is not with "c", that the case is called "makka" and that if our questioner had said "aryballos" probably one of the above questioned could have given the answer. Gives enough detail boy, while I took the face and open mouth with an expression of "I remember everything," as if they had replanted the memory, and then back to the pen, thinking that this question will not be for me, as It skips some details that make a four and remove both, and the lack of work does not give a good grade, but earned the epithet of "intelligent" teacher. It has a good mitigating, however. Not be easy to do a thesis in Sociology at the same time trying to study for a field like this, archaeological items, ceramics incisions tembetá and reticulate. We were three. One response is a rather bad, and a note of that. Then the girl again, and for the current to the nerves, the nerves that I have not been unleashed and myself have been unable to shake the legs, as so often in performances of flute and infinite terminal, I'm going to casting the mill that is my pen and turns, strong enough to expel a channel of peace that the Stoics such as envy thought a while ago, and that it has the girl next to me, this time responds more conclusions than clear, and is about to break, and the teacher tells him to calm down, and this time his answer is not given for good note. Leaves, holding back as he can. Go to the bathroom, I guess. "We are alone, I think, and I laugh to myself. Paul looks outside, anxious for him to touch him, but allowed me a gesture of encouragement, I appreciate the time I try to avoid, because I was disruptive in the rate of pen that has rolled and rolled over the question undetermined minutes; lifeline of this shipwreck. Last question, and after some comments, the inquisitor was given the task of thinking what to ask this guy. Tell me about the Mapuche descent system. And my mouth seem to come out a story when I hear you say "It all started when Jose Toribio Medina ..." and then I remember the controversy Latcham-Guevara, and current, that current strong economy with as little turbulence that has enabled the mill flow through my hands in invisible water, it raises the count of the Indians of the Isla Mocha, and Silva, and double descent, and lakou CuGa. Anything else?, I hear that again. No, no more. "There were some details of the article by Silva, but that's okay." A 6.4 tells me, and paradoxes of fate, I work it down to 6.1. "That's life, I think, still unconvinced that both very existence has brought me a shout well on a test like that, and that those orders have contained pseudo-parkinson my usually break out at times much more trivial than this. I make a few inquiries, I said that those who do go missing, and leave. I ask one or two as I was. It went well, what else could I say?, And their faces are still with them quizzically detail that was a six-one. Enter all, because there are no more, except the thumbs-up, which must cope with the speech, now have to expand on the paper. Let them deal with their own lions, and I go down the stairs and runs down the stairs the girl who goes to meet his lover, with an undisguised smile, and I still feel the spin, good turn, El Salvador turn of that pencil between my fingers, which was more than just a pencil, I think, as I tell myself that I have folded the hand, and that makes me laugh in silence, and makes me want to tell someone. (Any resemblance to reality ... It is no coincidence.) Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
