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involuntarily attended the "after the game." The third episode of the biggest sporting event in the world. What I tell the world! In the galaxy! In a little while journalists will have to find which is the next dimension astronomical. The galaxy has been small. I avoided sports areas thoroughly, knowing that, insistently, we tried to raise awareness of the vital importance of the shock, the interest generated around the world. (Everybody! I imagine the Australian Aborigines or Eskimos outstanding Messi or Ronaldo).
Those same sports areas in the years (and many) could find news about other sports, were now entirely dedicated to provide all the details (irrelevant) of a Real Madrid - Barcelona's soccer semifinal of the "champions league" . Wow! The microphones of journalists open to anyone who had anything to say about the confrontation. A more outrageous the more repetition, more disclosure. If you say something stupid replication other surpasses it. Statements taken out of context to "warm the atmosphere." What tostón
! So to kick off. I caught a supermarket doing the shopping. He was almost alone. The world had stopped. All outstanding event. Shock. Party. The classic. What excessive bombast!
still fell into the trap and I sat down to watch twenty minutes of "party? What I saw was actually one of the less sporting events than anyone can imagine. I saw twenty-two players face kicks, elbows, shoves, slaps and smacks. "Manly sports", they call some idiots that have no sport in your life. I saw twenty-two types trying to kick your opponent when the referee was not looking, rolling from the ground to fit a boot in the stomach of the opponent. I imagine that physical violence would be accompanied by an entire concert of words spoken to emphasize the fray, it would not be the only thing that would come from the mouth of these guys and maybe, if capable, is leading him to farts, a circumstance that we saved, for now, viewers, while television may not develop technology to measure olfactory made it visual and sound. I saw twenty-two athletes suspected fake pain to confuse an arbitrator for the sole purpose of injuring the opponent.
If I avoided the prior, the consequences of the party fled directly. While opening the happy news with "classic" I could not help continue to listen to nonsense about it. And now I wonder
Can you think of a Real Madrid-Barcelona track in these conditions? Indeed, it could have occurred because Barcelona is now one of the strongest clubs in athletics and Real Madrid had the section in its day. Imagine
two athletes in the sprint "milqui" a clean trip. In the 3000 m steeplechase push the rival (when judges do not see you, of course) in flight over an obstacle. Or better yet, jump to trip before to see if the teeth are left against the tree. In the signal length to change your heel, so carelessly, and without meaning. Or slip on a banana peel jumping in the hallway while the rival is in the race. Or loosen the starting blocks in the 100 for "esmorrar" to rival against the tartan.
And worst of all is that the party focuses sports information. And it is the example that is set over 80% of our youth because there should be around for the proportion of those who play football in relation to other sports. And adding fuel journalism.
And there is yet another.
Puagh!
Those same sports areas in the years (and many) could find news about other sports, were now entirely dedicated to provide all the details (irrelevant) of a Real Madrid - Barcelona's soccer semifinal of the "champions league" . Wow! The microphones of journalists open to anyone who had anything to say about the confrontation. A more outrageous the more repetition, more disclosure. If you say something stupid replication other surpasses it. Statements taken out of context to "warm the atmosphere." What tostón
! So to kick off. I caught a supermarket doing the shopping. He was almost alone. The world had stopped. All outstanding event. Shock. Party. The classic. What excessive bombast!
still fell into the trap and I sat down to watch twenty minutes of "party? What I saw was actually one of the less sporting events than anyone can imagine. I saw twenty-two players face kicks, elbows, shoves, slaps and smacks. "Manly sports", they call some idiots that have no sport in your life. I saw twenty-two types trying to kick your opponent when the referee was not looking, rolling from the ground to fit a boot in the stomach of the opponent. I imagine that physical violence would be accompanied by an entire concert of words spoken to emphasize the fray, it would not be the only thing that would come from the mouth of these guys and maybe, if capable, is leading him to farts, a circumstance that we saved, for now, viewers, while television may not develop technology to measure olfactory made it visual and sound. I saw twenty-two athletes suspected fake pain to confuse an arbitrator for the sole purpose of injuring the opponent.
If I avoided the prior, the consequences of the party fled directly. While opening the happy news with "classic" I could not help continue to listen to nonsense about it. And now I wonder
Can you think of a Real Madrid-Barcelona track in these conditions? Indeed, it could have occurred because Barcelona is now one of the strongest clubs in athletics and Real Madrid had the section in its day. Imagine
two athletes in the sprint "milqui" a clean trip. In the 3000 m steeplechase push the rival (when judges do not see you, of course) in flight over an obstacle. Or better yet, jump to trip before to see if the teeth are left against the tree. In the signal length to change your heel, so carelessly, and without meaning. Or slip on a banana peel jumping in the hallway while the rival is in the race. Or loosen the starting blocks in the 100 for "esmorrar" to rival against the tartan.
And worst of all is that the party focuses sports information. And it is the example that is set over 80% of our youth because there should be around for the proportion of those who play football in relation to other sports. And adding fuel journalism.
And there is yet another.
Puagh!