Previously on The Good Football:
How to lose a fan in 100 years
Can football teams gain the world without losing their soul?
Hi everyone!
It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Lately, I’ve been struggling to balance all those famous spinning plates, and this was one of the first to crash to the ground. But I’m happy and excited to be back, with a few half-written drafts ready to be finished and shared with you.
For now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to address my favourite footballer, Aitana Bonmatí.
Dear Aitana,
Ok, how do I start this?
First off, I’m sorry for writing this in English. Last weekend I wouldn’t shut up about how the journalists at the press conference should’ve just used a translator, instead of asking you and Alexia to answer in English. Sigh. But that’s beside the point. Today, I want to write you this letter in response to the interview you gave after the game last Saturday.
I was one of the thousands of culers on the stands of José Alvalade and I need you to know: I wasn’t, and couldn’t be, disappointed in you, or the team. We went to Lisbon hoping and wishing we’d win, but fully knowing we could lose. I know you were in Milan for that fateful Inter vs Barça, so I know you understand how we feel.
But even that doesn’t compare, because what you and this team are doing goes far beyond any single result.
I know we often talk about role models, legacy, and representation when it comes to women’s football. And those words do matter. But we use them so often, they start to feel a bit worn out, and still fall short of what I’m trying to express.
So I’ll try to say it in my own way.
See, I often get frustrated because it’s hard to express how I feel about certain things well enough. Barça Femení is one of those. In fact, last Friday at the fan fest, a journalist asked me what Barça Femení means to me, and I told her it meant a connection with football that I never had before.
And that’s saying something, because the passion for football has been loud and constant in my life for as long as I can remember. But the women’s Blaugrana team opened the door to women’s football for me, and now I feel like this game is mine too.
Being on the stands in Lisbon supporting you and the team was such an honor and a joy. Seeing women on the pitch, fans wearing your names on the back of their jerseys (including mine!), groups of girlfriends together, and little girls who know all of you by name… it feels like we’re all protagonists in this game. Like we have this space where we don’t have to ask to be included or watch from the sidelines. Like we’re creating this world together, where we can be who we were never told we could be.
And a lot of that is thanks to you and the other players. For being so good at what you do, for being so considerate of us as fans, for being in ads around town and on our feeds, for speaking up for causes that matter to us. And, at the same time, being just another one of us girlies.
There is something unique about girlhood, and there is something magical about football. When those two things come together, the result is powerful.
Your presence and your power create incredible experiences for us fans, exciting opportunities for us women working in football, and a future of possibilities we can’t grasp yet, but we know it’s coming.
The loss hurts. It stings. The day after, walking around Lisbon, every time I remembered the result, I got that annoying jolt, like stubbing your toe, but not physically.
But honestly? That’s nothing compared to what you all bring us.
Now we get to dream bigger. We get to travel, make friends, fill out stadiums, celebrate, and cry together. Not as guests, not as plus-ones, but as instigators, accomplices, builders of this movement that is women’s football. Things that were inmaginable years ago and now feel normal.
So please don’t feel bad for us. Don’t think you failed us. We’ll get over the frustration - heck, we’re women. We do this all the time.
Just know how grateful we are for all the doors, paths, worlds you’ve opened for us. For making room for our dreams, our passion, and all the trophies you’ve yet to win for us.
Being on the stands supporting you and the team until the last minute is nothing but an honour, and we’re already looking forward to the next time.
Gràcies i visca el Barça Femení.
If you enjoyed the read, you might like these too:
Watching the world expand - A tale from Bilbao 🏟️
The Good Footballers: Aitana Bonmatí - The player of the hour is a 'crack' off the pitch too
THE GOOD LINKS
🌸 The Football Gal did it again.
🥰 This little girl.
👌 A great example of how to produce good quality, relevant, and impactful content leveraging athletes’ stories.
🙏 We all want these, right?
👏 This jersey and everything it stands for.
🐤 I would like a framed copy of the photo of Ancelotti and the Canarinho Pistola mascot, please.
👯♀️ This video that pretty much sums up the spirit of today’s edition.
Esse é um comentário que eu já deveria ter deixado no seu texto anterior sobre o Athletico e o Barça Femení e que agora (definitivamente) não dava pra deixar passar. Como alguém que torce e vive o Athletico (e sofre com todas as dicotomias resultantes disto), tem no Barça femení o seu refúgio futebolistico e que ainda está sentindo a pancada no mindinho de ter estado em Lisboa no último final de semana: me reconheço em tudo o que você escreveu nos últimos dois textos (tanto que poderia muito bem ter começado esse comentário com: "Oi, vamos ser amigas?").
Talvez Lisboa ainda esteja doendo por aqui porque me lembrou muito do que foi Turim, que foi a primeira final de Champions que fui ver elas jogarem. E que nem seja tanto por ter perdido -- ainda que perder para o Arsenal tenha sido bem amargo, é verdade -- mas sim porque tem aquilo que é bem engraçado quando você passa a acompanhar o Barça: fiquei chateada pela "forma" que foi. Mas, tal como em Turim que a Aitana prometeu o "tornarem", eu não tenho dúvidas de que elas vão voltar e eu já mal posso esperar para acompanhar a próxima temporada tudo de novo :)
Eu amei e amei ainda mais viver isso tudo com você 🥰❤️