Salvador Sostres: An Independent Journalist



The measure of the independence of a journalist in Spain is Florentino Pérez. You are free if you insult the president of Real Madrid and you are a sellout if you think that his club and his company have done well and that he is a man worth his salt. I suppose that in other articles you will have noticed it but just in case I warn you that you are reading slag fallen to the brown side, because I am indeed one of those who think that he is the best president in the history of Spanish football – along with José Luis Núñez – and his business empire the only thing that bothers me is that it is not mine, even if it was only in a very small

part. For more corruption, and more disgusting, I like him very much, I love him very much and having lunch with him or talking to him on the phone I consider him an undeserved great prize of my life. Imagine how rotten my soul is.

Despite all this, Florentino has never given me an interview, not even a news item, and the code that we have and respect is that what he tells me I cannot publish. If we’ve been friends for more than ten years, and I can call you whenever I feel like it, it’s because never, remotely, has this rule been broken. One of the biggest reproaches I have heard from the president’s detractors is that he puts pressure on some media to kick out journalists who annoy him. Asking about me it seems to me that he has never called and this is all I can say about it. Which is very different from what the president of La Liga, Javier Tebas, has done, who clearly plays to intimidate those of us who disagree with his strategy and methods. It is a real pity that the independent journalist card is not given to you for facing the man with the most power in Spanish football, who does not hesitate to use the Government to intimidate those who do not bend to his will, the great ally of Jaume Roures, who at any price wants to stay in power, as certified by his agreement with the British fund CVC and the tip with which he tries to entangle us, and also in the form of credit, that is, of debt. More debt on accumulated debt. Never before as with Thebes had I felt harassed, bothered, violated. Untimely tweets, messages, warnings. It is a pity that you are not considered a fascist for sympathizing with Thebes, because he has covered his half of the way for a long time, as everyone knows.

The war between Florentino and Tebas to control Spanish football, and to try to control European football, is tense, exciting, every day a piece moves, it involves everyone even if they don’t realize it and I really don’t know who is going to win it. I know that I like talent more when it comes together than regional dances. I like the best, and the money they generate. Mediocrity bores me, and I am outraged to pay for its gangrene. I have come to the world to take airplanes and save distances.

And I’m not even trying to argue that I’m sold out for loving Florentino. It only depresses me, and sinks me into the deepest discouragement, the zero interest that he has always shown me in buying me.

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