Royal Asylum CF

Real Madrid has turned into an asylum and that is exactly what Mourinho wants. Because he, let's not forget, is the one who poked Tito Vilanova in the eye and it was also he who built an unbreathable, disgustingly toxic climate that concluded in a schism between the Madridista players and the Culers. Mourinho has returned, he has finally taken off the mask of a mature gentleman with white hair and a calm temperament and is back to being what he has always been: an agitator.

The climate of hysteria experienced at the Bernabéu is only the prelude to what awaits us: only eight matchdays have been played and we have 30 left to go, so we had better get used to the idea that this will end just as we feared when Madrid announced his signing. Badly. Meditation, yoga, mindfulness, or anxiolytics, choose your own adventure because in the mud, in the filth, quoting Pep Guardiola, Mourinho is the fucking boss and he will continue wallowing until he manages to drive us all crazy. As long as he continues to point at the referees and in the stadium they chant "Corruption in the Federation" there will be no talk of football, which deep down is the key when his team continues to stumble around and is six points behind Barça.

The worst part is that their plan, as of now, is working and the noise is consuming the football debate. Just as it is useless to argue with flat-earthers because rational arguments do not work, it is better not to waste time trying to convince the hyperventilating Mourinhistas that Vinicius's hair-pulling is a red card, here and in the People's Republic of China. And that he will most likely miss the Clásico in two weeks because those are the rules and I didn't invent them, nor did Flick, nor even Negreira. In the ultra, denialist mud, it's better not to get involved because the only certainty is that you will come out scalded.

Barça would do well to ignore it completely and continue on its path: full of victories, equaling the best start to the League, with all the players hungry and plugged in and a coach who knows what he is doing. Playing into Mourinho's hands is a bad deal and there is no need when on the pitch they show there is no doubt. Let them turn up the decibels of the loudspeaker at the Bernabéu, let them rend their garments on Real Madrid TV, let them scream and stomp their feet, let the asylum continue with its commotion, because in the end, the ball rules.