If you’re young and still have time, try to get a job covering the European golf circuit, or whatever it’s called now. No one will ever give you advice as good as this, seriously. No one gave it to me and that’s why, when I found out, it was already too late.
I found out about golf because Castellón hosted one of the tournaments on the European circuit for several years. The same thing happened in my old newspaper that used to happen with beach soccer or music and festivals: when they didn’t know who to send, they sent me to get some fresh air. I was used to the frenzy of soccer and its weekly skits, and it still shocks me to remember what it felt like to arrive at the golf course and access the tent set up for the media. You could touch the contrast. In football everyone is in a hurry, everyone is tense, everyone is overwhelmed and the tension is clearly perceived in the environment. Everyone seems to have “something” at stake, everyone is affected by what happens. Golf is another story, almost from another planet. As a sport, it belongs to another species.
In golf the cadence is friendly. Toxicity, out; bad vibes, get out You take my place, I give you my hand. In golf, everything was easy. In golf you would hear words like “thank you” or “please.” You smiled without realizing it. I remember this from golf: toasty sun, green landscape, generous catering, beautiful people and unlimited coffee; educated beings in a suitable decibel tone. And best of all: I didn’t care who won. And something even better than the best: my bosses didn’t care even more. He could write whatever he wanted. Nobody cared.
In the days prior to the tournament, in addition, the so-called ProAm was held. The professionals mixed to play with celebrities of different scales. There were bullfighters, politicians and various businessmen, I was Rafael Nadal and super valid people that I can’t remember right now, and there was a collection of soccer cards, which was what interested me. passed Johan Cruyff with your hands in your pockets and you interviewed him. javier clemente He answered questions on the path from hole 9 to 10, and he also crossed something as exotic as Alberto Belsué. And if you got bored you ate an ice cream. That was golf: digging for copper and finding gold.
When the tournament really started, the options multiplied. You could stay in the press area, where the results were updated on large manual panels, or continue on line the day. If you needed vitamin D, you could take a walk: follow a specific match, wander the pitch in silence, or choose a privileged location and let the different matches parade. I found a semi-hidden key tree in the green from the nearest hole. There I could take my laptop and hit the key, calm and happy, advancing teleworking and inventing journalism-picnic.
In that refuge I thought about it for the first time: “I could lead this life.” I could quit football, I could stop going out during the week, I could escape from reality and adapt to this healthy routine. Travel every week to wherever the tournament was, write without trauma until Sunday and repeat the process again, without anxiety and calmly. I could work without suffering, but I found out too late, and I wasn’t free enough anymore. The adult ties, you know. That is why I give the advice now, perhaps, in case it helps someone.
Things I discovered too late: to play soccer you have to run like you’re the bad guy in the schoolyard, the hard part is not taking care of the children but the parents, and work on something you like, but don’t mind, if you can , and know.
