Carlos Alcaraz: the best of the campaign
They are not even good at capitalizing on events that really mobilize the citizen called to the polls. I am referring to the surprising lack of reaction of the candidates before the sporting feat of the twenty-something tennis player from Murcia, Carlos Alcaraz (Wimbledon, Sunday July 16), in the middle of an unsportsmanlike sack race whose outcome we will know after tomorrow night's count.
The overwhelming triumph of Carlitos in London enclosed (encloses) the jubilant proposal of Spain proud of having met. It went practically unnoticed by the campaign teams, probably because it caught them busy exploring new ways of stoning the adversary with yellowing photos, extemporaneous anti-Franco alerts, alleged conspiracies to alter remote voting to the detriment of the candidate and lying twinnings rhymed with a renowned assassin to the detriment of the incumbent..
The brand new winner of the Wimbledon tournament has campaigned for the daily Spain of millions of voters hungry for stability and aversion to fights. From which it can be deduced that the massive applause for the new world tennis star has dwarfed a political class entangled in gesticulating contests on the art of lying, the different versions of feminism, Sánchez's “falcon” or Yolanda's iron.
The already great Carlos Alcaraz rescued us from all that pond for a few days, as an athlete and as a person, as elegant in victory as elegant in some previous defeats. Few, it's true, that's why it's number one in the world.
It seems unbelievable that the gurus of Pedro Sánchez and Núñez Feijóo missed the opportunity to join —interestingly, of course— in the recovery of sensations experienced in the prodigious decade; the one that dazzled in various sports worldwide and from which we still have the unforgettable border of names like Andrés Iniesta, Fernando Alonso, Rafa Nadal, Pau Gasol, Alberto Contador, Carolina Marín, etc..
The Murcian Alcaraz is the sample button of the generation that as a child was dazzled by the aforementioned and now can be the pioneer of a new wave of winners. Who did see it was the King. The image of Felipe VI, a visible figure of Spain that survives the cycle changes in national politics, was associated with the rush of everyday Spain through the graphic impact of his embrace with the tennis player at the end of the match..
It happened in London on the eve of a general election, while the millions of Spaniards who turned their votes into seats on Sunday vibrated with the victory of Carlos Alcaraz over Novak Djokovic.
In a time of reflection, the official time of the campaign having expired, it is time to dabble in the political-media pools that feed on expectations and sensations, inevitably interested on both sides of the wall.. I mean expectations and sensations and not proposals contained in programs that nobody reads.
The last scoring installment was the “three” debate televised last Wednesday night. wet gunpowder. We knew in advance that the three (Sánchez, Yolanda, Abascal) were losing. What we didn't know is that they were so boring. Even the dangerous far-right Santiago Abascal was unexpectedly temperate. “More than fear, it was a pain,” wrote Soto Ivars, who is a virtuoso of literary orality.