Tag Archives: San Martín

The tv and newspaper output since yesterday evening has been one long love letter to San Martín Palermo. The interview count, at least those pegamequemegusta has seen, stands at about seven thousand and four. Within two minutes of the end of the match he had given two already: one on the pitch, another in the tunnel. This is the story the press has been waiting for – and Maradona, too, qué vindicación! Palermo is of course a very loveable and media-friendly guy – in fact that’s one of the many differences he has with Riquelme, who regards the press with about as much trust as a three-legged rabbit does a hungry fox – but the outpouring of sugary love has left pegamequemegusta reaching for our toothbrush.

In today’s Olé, Leo Farinella writes:

“Palermo’s not caviar in Monaco, he’s not Champagne or Paris, Palermo’s an asado with red wine from Ushuaia to La Quiaca, a couple of matés and dulce de leche. Vamos Argentina, carajo!”

Oh but he’s not done there. No, no, this is the guy who came back from the three missed penalities in the Copa América in ’99, who scored his 100th goal for Boca with torn ligaments in his right knee, who broke his leg when a wall collapsed under him as he celebrated with Villareal, who scored a header from 38 yards, the guy who saved Maradona, saved Argentina with that Shawshank moment against Peru. No, there must be more. There is, of course:

“Messi can’t, Milito can’t, no-one can. He’s immortal, historic, unbeatable. In that impassioned embrace with Messi, yet another mystical embrace with Diego, he’s a miracle worker, faith incarnate on a football field. South Africa on its knees: the ball that no-one can can get the hang of, Martín tames it first time with his weaker foot. And in the net. From time to time God recalls a country that seems like it’s about to diappear off the map. He chooses someone and before you know it he is imbued with the divine spirit. We hail you, Saint Palermo.”

For his part, Maradona revealed after the game that Mancuso and el Negro Enrique had wanted to bring on Higuaín and had even gone so far as to write down the change for the 4th official. El Diego countermanded the order, however: “Bring me Martín.” Despite it being a token gesture, the words will go down in Argieball folklore as another chapter in the Book of Palermo, a chapter written with so much love it comes with a special pair of gloves. Continue reading →