No, Junito has not announced a reversal on his all too premature retirement. He is still blissfully playing hurling, impervious to medium sized balls and nets draped over sticks. But this series ended without paying tribute to the olive-skinned and gorgeous woman behind the world’s future greatest player. And that is a tragedy which requires remedy.

First, a word on Junito’s sister. Her name is Angie. She is one year older. A few people asked – why not do a series on her? Was it male preference? Or, perhaps, there ‘sa unique bond between father & son? The only answer is painfully simplistic and practical – for the longest time, Angie showed no interest in soccer. She preferred dance. After a few soccer sessions, she would let out a loud gasp and say “No soy hombre, no tengo fuerza para esto.” I would correct her sexist assumption, but to no avail. I then realized it was an excuse to leave goals behind for plastic kitchen sets.

My own sister was and is a girlie girl, so I let it slide. But, to my delight, Angie has started to show an interest in soccer. I’m ecstatic. She has her mother’s natural two-footed grace. She also lives and breathes the Real Madrid-Barca rivalry, having remarked on a few occasions to her play friends that “Madrid is de oro, Barca es de inodoro.” Is a sequel possible? Possibly. Although Real would first need a female side.

The other lady in me and Junito’s life was also curiously absent from the series. With no good excuse. Continue reading “Junito: the Epilogue & a Tribute to the Morenita behind the Man” »

Junito, I’m sad to say, was born a politician. Or a Manuel Pellegrini. But definitely not a decisive and partisan political talk show host. Conspiracy theorists be damned, Junito is no Glenn Beck. Why am I so sure?

Well, in the Turner household, a raging debate fumes. On the one hand, as a Mexican American, I was raised to love Real Madrid by their association with Hugol Sanchez. However, the little lady does not share this passion. As a gorgeous morenita bonita raised and reared in Nicaragua, she rejects abundance for that which was scarce: white males, known as cheles. What player leads the Barca flock? Leo Messi, a prototypical mullet-laden Argentine of epic chele proportions.

Che may mean “friend” in Argentine Spanish, but the tensions threaten household hospitality on game days. And Junito sadly sits on the fence. Continue reading “Junito: Paternal Persistence and the Pastorcito Mentiroso” »

Junito’s ankle is on the mend. While my little bebe saltamontes did not need crutches, he does have to wear a cast. He also had to miss a week of la escuela, confined to couches and camitas before he could put weight on his right foot. After a few days, he grew restless, and the sound of him hopping on one foot echoed throughout the house. He also began to beg and plead for a return to school. Yes, a four year old male that actually wants to go to school. I find it equally odd.

But, of course, he probably missed his lady love, Mariela Gabriela la pequena, right? WRONG. Junito informed me that he and Mariela were no longer on speaking terms.

And I suspected the worst. Continue reading “Junito: A Hurt Ankle & Some Very Hurt Feelings” »

Life is like American baseball pitching ace Tim Lincecum – just after a change up comes your way, a nasty curve ball twists your head in circles. And by that, I mean, Junito’s transition to goalkeeper has been anything but smooth. And, even worse, he’s suffered his first serious injury. To…his…foot!

First, the background. Real Madrid’s greatest player has long stared at the neighbor kids’ bicycles with lust in his heart and longing in his eyes. Thus, despite a few objections from the missus, we allowed Junito to ride a bike with a local neighbor watching him, Wilmer. And disaster struck. Junito had barely pedaled a few feet when he struck his tender little foot in the spokes and screeched to a halt. Wilmer deserves credit for reacting quickly, grabbing Junito, and preventing any head impact.

But the news was bad for Junito’s golden piecito. Continue reading “Junito: The Test of Mental Endurance vs. Physical Injury” »

We would like to believe that in an open and democratic society, with an abundance of resources, that clannish tribes would cease to exist. Yet sports fuel the local association, the desire to exclude the other and thereby improve self-worth.

I’ve never had reason to hate Barcelona. True, they are the eternal rival of my beloved Madrid, but I never wish them harm or worse than second place. The tyranny of geography and birth restrict my nativist tendencies. Yet have I betrayed the faith of the blanquillo?

In regards to my family, have I kept too loose a grip? Am I raising a snake to someday bite  my hand? I ask because….the other day Junito said good things about Barcelona. Continue reading “Junito: Changing His Position, Losing My Religion” »