AAAAAANNNNNNDDDDDD, CUT!

I would have loved to be able to use poetic flights of fancy to describe the city of Paris to you, to paint a warm and perverse portrait of the elegance of its ladies, to talk about philosophy and to discuss certain ideas that come to us from this city known as the metropolis of the human race. Unfortunately, I am not Victor Hugo or any of those eloquent lyricists of whom history speaks.

Suffice it to say this: The comedy has finally come to an end. Neymar Jr has left FC Barcelona for the glamour of the City of Lights, not without a few imponderables, it has to be said. Papa Neymar, the great dramatist and architect of this farce, from which some of my close friends are suffering, began to make his presence felt a few months ago when the extension to his son's contract was signed. He made it a condition that Barcelona would pay him a very small renewal bonus of fifty million euros gross (which would be twenty-six million net), at a rate of 10 million per year for the five years of his son's contract. And despite breaking the contract by paying the release clause, the scoundrel still wants to be paid the rest. Worse still, LaLiga, the Spanish league's governing body, has refused to accept the famous cheque for 222 million euros, arguing that PSG is not complying with the financial fair play rules imposed by UEFA. Neymar's lawyers were therefore obliged to deposit the cheque directly at Barcelona's offices.

The main reason for the divorce. Neymar wants to be the leader of a sporting project. He wants to be the one around whom the project is built. The one who doesn't have to run 40 metres back to defend. The one who is responsible for penalties, direct and indirect free-kicks, corners, the last kick in a penalty shoot-out and being the glorious liberator of his team. Sorry Neyney, there's no room for two kings in Catalonia.

Piqué said se queda, the Da Silvas (Neymar father and son) said nos vamos. Fortunately for them, they didn't go home empty-handed.


Jean Richard Bastien

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