An unequal struggle

Carlos Argente

I look at the Liga Asobal table and an inner rage takes hold of me. I am not talking about how hard it is for someone like me to see his beloved club in last place; in that, I believe several thousand others are sharing the journey with me.

 But today I wanted to reflect on a situation that is absolutely unfair and, to me, even immoral. You read the newspapers, study the reports, speak to the players and officials of the sixteen teams competing to be among the best in our national handball, and I end up climbing the walls.

 From other clubs in this select? group of Asobal members, all you hear about is unpaid players and suppliers, budgets drawn up without the slightest certainty, delays in municipal, provincial and regional grants that make you want to tell them: I’ll have your grant for Christmas, even if it is not paid until the next century. You see four youngsters and five veterans who have not been paid since time immemorial beating you; you see teams with debts strengthening their squads in the winter transfer market; you see clubs playing in Europe whose players from last year were growing beards. Ultimately, you see that, curiously, the two bottom clubs in the league are among the few clubs completely up to date with their payments and without debts from previous years.

 Is it a coincidence that Huesca and Puerto Sagunto are bottom? In my opinion—and it is time to say it loud and clear—NO.

 It is a consequence of the farce of turning a blind eye, accepting irregularities and poor management behind the scenes, resulting in the most serious, most proper and most rigorous club not leading the way ahead of many who compete with weapons that honesty and good workmanship would not allow us to use.

 I am fed up with taking competitive examinations in which some people can cheat, are friends with the teacher, while others turn up with only the hours of study that our work to survive each day allows. Clearly, honesty and sound business practices are declining values on Spain’s stock exchange, and in the Asobal league they are a genuine burden for surviving with dignity, if at all, among the bottom clubs.

 I do not have the solution, but what I do have is the conviction—because my elders taught me this at home and my predecessors taught me this during the 60-year history of this club—that we will die standing before we live on our knees.

 Next year in Asobal, in the Silver division or wherever, the people of this town will have the complete assurance of seeing seven men dressed in red and white, defending a shirt that surpasses them in emotion. In other cities, I do not know, but here, yes.

Translation produced using artificial intelligence.