by Layla Carlsson
One summer evening in 2007, I attended the Amsterdam Tournament for Ajax versus Arsenal. The first match that evening was Atlético de Madrid — Lazio Roma. Armed with snacks and drinks, my friend and I took our seats and enjoyed the atmosphere.
Two goth-rock chicks with pink-red hair at a football event; we certainly stood out in a crowd which consisted mostly of families on a day-trip and a handful of away-fans. It wasn’t long before we saw our own mugs on the big screen in the Arena and, only minutes later, Atlético scored.
The man sitting beside me had tried to start a conversation a couple of times, much to the embarrassment of his two teenage sons. As the stadium applauded the goal, the poor, clumsy dad saw a chance to approach me again.
“Looks like you brought Atlético luck!” he called out over the noise, nudging my arm with his elbow.
“I am Madridista,” I smirked. “If I bring Atléti luck, the Universe might just implode.” The guy looked at me with confusion — in my delusions of grandeur anyway — as I then smiled regally, “Great goal, though, I’ll give ’em that.”
Aww, Atléti. As much as I enjoy having a laugh at them once in a while, I also have a bit of fondness for Real Madrid’s angry, underachieving neighbours. They can be quite ballsy when they want to. Plus, they employed my Forbidden Fruit: Sergio ‘Kun’ Agüero.
It was easy to declare I didn’t care for Atléti to the guy sitting beside me at the Amsterdam Arena, but truth was I would have loved to see Agüero on the pitch that day. However, Kun was enjoying a vacation after the side he captained won the U-20 World Cup for Argentina. And when Kun plays for his country, I can watch him without feeling dirty.
Because he does make me feel dirty, and not just in a pervy old lady way. I have often wondered why I stared at him with awe, because it is not only his talent that caught my interest. If I were a romance novel author, and he was a character in my books, I’d have the heroine fall for the fire in his dark eyes and the passion in his heart.
When Sergio Agüero played the Madrid derbies, he would add fire and spice to the already heated atmosphere, especially at the Vicente Calderón stadium where hatred oozes from the stands as Real Madrid enters the pitch. You could see it in his eyes, read the tension from his determined face; that drive to win, to defeat the Nemesis, send them home with their heads hanging in shame. Never in a million years would I want Atléti to beat us, yet I could not stop my heart from beating faster in admiration whenever Kun waved his arms at his faithful crowd to ask for support and the stadium roared in response. Or when he scored against us and his eyes would flicker dangerously, leaving me fascinated with him.
He makes me laugh. For example, the silly sod knocked up one of El Diego’s daughters. He’s a drama queen, a very bad diver, throws tantrums and has a tendency for exhibitionism — tauntingly showing the ref his ripped abs while being booked. Above all, Kun is entertainment.
Atléti were damn lucky to have him. With him on board, they — even though perceived as perpetual underachievers by many La Liga watchers — were one of the few teams to beat the seemingly unbeatable Barcelona in the 2008/2009 season. And in 2010, after a season that left Real Madrid with no silverware, Atléti won the Europa League. Well done, congrats, meh.
This summer saw the persistent rumour that Sergio Agüero was going to make a move to Real Madrid, and I think it is safe to say many of us would have welcomed him with open arms. With his speed and fast turns, combined with Cristiano and Higuaín or Benzema, it could have been mouth-watering; a front line that would have torn any defence apart. But it wasn’t in the cards. Kun signed for Manchester City, scored two on his debut and provided excitement. Having had to compete for a spot on the Argentina National Team with the likes of Messi and Tévez, Kun has shown remarkable determination and scored when others failed. Lucky City. Again, I say meh.
To make matters worse, he comes across as a very likeable person, as he shares photos of his personal life on Twitter and on his website. Hearts melted and ovaries everywhere popped eggs when Kun shared a video of him playing football in his living room with his son Benjamin.
You’d almost forget he’s a manipulative little shit, that Agüero. Always did his best to get Sergio Ramos booked or sent off. One time after a derby, Kun rolled up his sleeve to show the journalists a scratch on his arm, and claimed Sergio had caused it. Since I form the one-woman-Sergio-Ramos-defence-unit, this should have been a reason for me to dump my Forbidden Fruit. But no, he got away with it; with the help of his boyish smile and the dimples in his cheeks.
Damn you, Kuniebunny.