by Ștefan Bolea
Opaque. Yet he smiles. He even plays Joker. But we’re not allowed to know what hides behind the mask. Is he seeking the Northern Pole of being? I venture to say that his warmth drives him toward ES(s)E. I lived in Oslo for one semester, absorbed the coolness of the Atlantic in Bergen. And I contempt anyone who thinks that Ibsen is nothing but volcanic. Economic like Messi, acrobatic like Van Basten, stormy like Cămătaru. One may say that he misses penalties on purpose (not unlike Diesel). And if he’s the equivalent of the GOAT, his coach is nothing else than Phil Jackson in disguise. His one-man army tactics that earn him assists are nothing compared to his inner sacred duty. His coach knows what he’s doing, not being ambiguous at all. Like LeBron and Nadal, he will win against the odds.
But these are only preliminary reasonings. I see something of Edberg’s melancholy on his face. Something of Ronnie’s humility. He reminds me of Alain Delon’s samurai. Maybe he’s just better.