Gone are the decades in which Deportivo Cali humiliated – with enough footballing arguments – its eternal rival patio, when it first placed the name of the country in a final of the Copa Libertadores de América. They were years that preceded narco-football, therefore it was possible to say that the checkbook did not matter so much, but simply the development of the colorful game that always characterized him. It had a luxurious leadership, guided by Don Alex Gorayeb and some enterprising men who helped to forge the Valle del Cauca business community. All that legacy is maintained, but without sports results and with executives who prioritize the business more than the glory that we never lacked.
Although it hurts, Cali fan, this leadership accustomed us to follow some colors without perceiving the sporting enjoyment. Lose or win, from Cali to death, there is no doubt about that. But every mediocre spirit will sooner or later be called into question, so all the mismanagement to which the club has been subjected is condemned. You cannot accept what is palpable year after year: the frustrations of a bad campaign. It is not possible to accept that some players believe that this is a team to escape and earn some pesos, when months ago they made 15 or 20 goals with foreign currency that does not pay them what they earn here. It is rejected that managers allow all this to happen, and that they are passive when it comes to demanding respect for the shirt and for the fans themselves.
Nobody forgets, Cali fan, the final in which Jefferson Duque voted a penalty and cried for scoring a goal against Nacional. If that had happened in Boca Juniors or River Plate, the most certain thing is that that player would not wear the jacket of any big club in Argentina. However, in Cali, Duque’s unprofessionalism was applauded and he missed a final that with Gorayeb or Arias would have fought to the death. I could put more examples, such as what Marco Pérez ate against Chicó, but my intention is not to preferentially condemn the mediocrity of the players, but to strongly reproach the little concern of the green and white leadership, which only goes out of its way to sell players and thus cover their bad results. That is not the Cali that my parents knew: as a local and as a visitor we always set an example.
These days the sale of Palavecino, the novel of the season, is being awaited. Once the Argentine leaves, Caicedo and his combo will be made for a few dollars and the chicken is ready. They will celebrate with a good Scotsman, while the true fan will suffer the disasters of a team that no longer steps on the ball and worships Arboleda, Benítez and Scotta. With these people, who perversely overshadows the glory of old afternoons, no Pereira is reached. They are a managerial disaster, because they lack the necessary inventiveness to move the team forward and make it shine, as it happened on two occasions, in all corners of South America.
The ñapa. It is known that the teacher Arboleda will no longer work in Cali, according to Marco Caicedo, because he is already retired and because there is no money to pay him. Let’s say that this excellent exponent of good football will not lack sustenance, but what is true is that the old glories (Caicedo, Escobar, Ñato Torres, Umaña himself, in short, those who sweated their shirts ) in Cali they are not given the treatment they deserve. How bad are leaders: River Plate honored Amadeo Carrizo, its mythical goalkeeper, until the last moment. Boca Juniors has Rattin, Marzolini, Rojas, Mouzo and Maradona on a pedestal. Boys, learn that there are no idols left.
