I remember my first time in Innsbruck. It was the summer of '76 and the world was not yet feeling the toll of our lack of respect for nature. Although, our innocence as sport's fans had been broken four years earlier in Munich. Temperatures were mild, people there were mild... Everything, except the smell, was mild. The smell of cow's droppings!
I remember looking up in awe at the size of the slide for the ski jumping competition of the XII Olympic Winter Games, and for a second there, I swear I could hear still, the roaring of a thousand voices united by sport!
All that was so vividly reproduced in my mind, at the very moment I heard the news of next Saturday's match between Sweden and Spain. I know everybody would expect me to be behind the Spanish team... But the truth is, I don't feel like a Spaniard at all! I know there are Catalonians playing in the Spanish roster, but still... I don't feel it!
I find it hard to conciliate my feelings towards the hopes of those very few compatriots of mine vs. my contempt towards a country, I can't find in me to call it my own. You see, for me this is not a match between two sovereign countries, it is more of a challenge between my heart and my soul! Catalonians' hopes vs. One Catalonian's feelings... that's a tough one!
So, in the spirit of sportsmanship... I must gracefully decline. I wont be put in the position of having to take sides between the only two parts of me that have never been compromised, nor sold!
Only one thing left, then... HEJA SVERIGE!
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