Camp Nou Quotes

The Stadium Have you ever entered an empty stadium? Try it. Stand in the middle of the field and listen. There is nothing less empty than an empty stadium. There is nothing less mute than stands bereft of spectators. At Wembley, shouts from the 1966 World Cup, which England won, still resound, and if you listen very closely you can hear groans from 1953 when England fell to the Hungarians. Montevideo’s Centenario Stadium sighs with nostalgia for the glory days of Uruguayan soccer. Maracanã is still crying over Brazil’s 1950 World Cup defeat. At Bombonera in Buenos Aires, drums boom from half a century ago. From the depths of Azteca Stadium, you can hear the ceremonial chants of the ancient Mexican ball game. The concrete terraces of Camp Nou in Barcelona speak Catalan, and the stands of San Mamés in Bilbao talk in Basque. In Milan, the ghosts of Giuseppe Meazza scores goals that shake the stadium bearing his name. The final match of the 1974 World Cup, won by Germany, is played day after day and night after night at Munich’s Olympic Stadium. King Fahd Stadium in Saudi Arabia has marble and gold boxes and carpeted stands, but it has no memory or much of anything to say.

... dar in "Pivnita de ceapa" a lui Schmuh nu se gasea nimic de mancare si cine voia sa manance ceva trebuia sa mearga in alta parte, la Fischl si nu in "Pivnita de ceapa", fiindca aici nu se taia decat ceapa. Si de ce asa? Pentru ca pivnita se numea astfel si ce era cu totul iesit din comun pentru ca aceasta ceapa, ceapa taiata, cand o privesti cu atentie... nu, clientii lui Schmuh nu mai vedeau nimic sau doar unii dintre ei nu mai vedeau nimic, li se scurgeau ochii, nu pentru ca aveau inimile prea pline; caci unde scrie ca daca ti-e inima plina, trebuie sa iti planga ochii, unora nu le reuseste niciodata asa ceva, mai ales in deceniile din urma, de aceea secolul nostru se va numi candva, in viitor, secolul lipsit de lacrimi, desi a fost multa suferinta - si tocmai din acest motiv, din cauza lipsei lacrimilor, oamenii, cei care isi puteau permite, se duceau la "Pivnita de ceapa", se lasau serviti de patron cu o scandura de tocat, cu un cutit de bucatarie si cu o ceapa ordinara de camp sau gradina care-i costa douasprezece marci, o taiau atat de marunt pana ce sucul reusea. Ce reusea? Reusea ceea ce lumea si suferinta acestei lumi nu reuseau sa produca: omeneasca lacrima rotunda. Si atunci se puneau pe plans. In sfarsit se punea lumea, din nou, pe plans. Se plangea serios, dezlantuit, in toata legea. Apa curgea si lua totul cu ea. Apoi venea ploaia. Apoi cadea roua... Si dupa acea calamitate naturala de douasprezece marci si optzeci de pfenigi, oamenii satui de plans incep sa vorbeasca. Inca ezitand, mirati de propria lor limba goala, dupa ce savureaza ceapa, clientii pivnitei se predau vecinilor lor, acolo, pe lazile incomode imbracate in iuta, se lasa intrebati, isi schimba felul de a fi cum iti intorci paltonul.

At one particular moment, with my eyes closed, I was crying and asking the question over and over aloud, „Does true love exist? Does true love exist in girls? Does true love exist? Does Sabrina love me? Does true love exist? Does true love exist?” - I had suddenly seen a flash. As if I was poking the Devil in the dark, staring too long into the darkness until it looked back at me as they say. I have never told anyone about this before. I try to describe what I had seen that night in that windowless, dark, and cold place deep inside under that big, old building, with my eyes closed. It made a half turn, flashing one of its eyes at me for a moment before disappearing again into the dark. As if it was nodding to me, I still get goosebumps years later when I try to describe it. As if it had been standing there all along, and just tried to reassure me that it had heard my question and would answer. Quite close. Just to make me be quiet finally. His eyes were yellow and red. I'm not actually sure if it had two eyes; I only saw one of them. One Evil Eye. Perhaps he had lost an eye, that's why I had seen the light of only one of them. His eye was malicious, but not particularly. It was more tired and angry yet understanding, as if he had heard this question over a billion times before from fools like me and I did not amuse him with my question and demand. As if he was about to show me a trick he had known for a long time. As if Satan had seen it all already. He knows all the tricks, he invented them, he inspired them all. As if he was bored of humanity already. (There is only One Evil Eye. The planet Saturn.) I was cuddling with Adam's cat, crying a lot, asking the darkness, about Love, and reflecting on Sabrina. Perhaps it was merely an optical illusion. I leave it up to the reader to decide what they believe about what I was facing and how I miraculously survived, as an atheist goy, as well as who truly supported me throughout the ordeal. If anyone or anything supported me in Spain at all. I had seen an advertisement somewhere saying that Miss Kittin would be playing on Saturday night, November 16th, 2013 in Barcelona at The Marhes. Satan. Saturn. Saturday. Coincidence? Maybe. So far. Perhaps. I knew I had to see her again after such a long time; she had been playing drum and bass in the early 2000s across the globe, and also in Budapest. I checked the map; The Marhes was next to Camp Nou, the FC Barcelona stadium. I thought of buying a bottle of champagne, which I didn't like, unless it’s Italian, but I wanted to celebrate, and I would walk along Avenida Roma to get there straight. I knew I'd get drunk; I didn't want to drive, I wanted to arrive intoxicated. I re-posted the Miss Kittin party’s flyer, on Instagram, writing underneath it : ‘All roads lead to Rome.

El camino es la clave 11 Enero 2011 / Diario Sport Hay un camino que empieza en La Masia y termina en el Camp Nou. Es el camino que los canteranos del Barça recorren desde hace treinta años. No es un camino fácil ni está trazado con tiralíneas, ni los chicos tienen dibujada una hoja de ruta desde la cuna hasta el cielo. No es así porque jamás hubo un ser superior que dijo: “¡Hágase!” La Masia es fruto de centenares de voluntades y miles de incertidumbres. Ese camino que empieza en la venerable casona de piedra y alcanza su meta en el gran estadio de los sueños es un recorrido tortuoso. Sería necio negar que hubo dudas a su alrededor. Es necesario recordarlo en estos días de exaltación sublime del modelo, cuando tres de sus hijos copan el podio del Balón de Oro. Reconozcámoslo: el barcelonismo ha dudado de su cantera en épocas de zozobra. Pero en esos momentos tormentosos hubo mucha gente que se mantuvo fiel a la idea y evitó que el club se apartara del camino. Esta ha sido su verdadera fuerza: persistir en los malos tiempos. Hacerlo cuando sopla el viento a favor es sencillo. Hoy, el mundo entero está rendido al encanto de La Masia y se deleita con las historias de sus pioneros, la excelencia del método y la exquisitez de sus alumnos más destacados. Aplaudir el sistema cuando tienes a Messi, Iniesta y Xavi y cien mil más por detrás tiene escaso mérito. Lo valiente fue hacerlo en los días de rayos y truenos. En esas tardes de ventisca y tempestad, el Barça se hizo grande. Gente con profundas convicciones mantuvo al club dentro del mismo camino que hace treinta años recorrió Ángel Pedraza, el primer hijo de La Masia en tomar el ascensor al Camp Nou. Esta gente terca, sabia y persistente, entrenadores, directores técnicos, educadores, aspirantes a futbolistas, directivos, es la auténtica ganadora del Balón de Oro. Supieron permanecer en el camino cuando la jauría pedía a gritos salirse por otra vía. El éxito actual, reflejado en el rostro feliz del mejor jugador mundial acompañado por los dos mejores repartidores de caramelos del universo, nace en esa tenacidad de pioneros y continuadores. Al éxito le salen padres por todas partes, pero los únicos verdaderos de La Masia son el camino elegido y la persistencia en el modelo: la capacidad del club para capear temporales y seguir la línea marcada. El esfuerzo de maestros y alumnos por llegar arriba y vencer a partir de un estilo de juego concreto. El camino elegido siempre es decisivo: el Barça busca ganar todos los partidos, por supuesto, pero otorgándole trascendencia a la forma de hacerlo, al camino a recorrer. No es una cuestión estética, sino muy profunda: vencer a partir de una idea, sin apartarse del camino. De esta perseverancia nacen hijos de la luz como Messi, Xavi e Iniesta.