London is Blue Dispatch #054

For a week, at least, there was hope.

You are 16, going on 17 could well have been Lamine Yamal’s song – his twinkle toes dancing to the sound of music Spain were composing on German pitches. Nico Williams, on the other wing, scored the winner that placed the crown of European Champions, befittingly, on its young but reliable shoulders.

“We’d all like Nico and Lamine to only, and exclusively, symbolize the magic of football,” wrote Marco Schwartz in eldiario.es. “And that’s what would happen in a normal world. But it has turned out to be inevitable that in turbulent times that are charged with racism and xenophobia, the two young sportsmen have acquired a political significance they did not seek.”

That euphoria-infused hope dissipated within days. Dani Carvajal, a key member of Spain’s triumphant squad, seemed to deliberately avoid Spain’s socialist PM Pedro Sánchez’s gaze as they shook hands, prompting a joyous reaction from the Spanish far-right, the most prominent of which (Vox) Carvajal is alleged to have links with.

And then came Argentina’s chant of shame, captured on Enzo Fernandez’s grainy Instagram story, a poisoned hex at the origins of France’s NT superstars, some of whom, like Kylian Mbappe, actively helped turned the tide of a national election that could have spelt disaster for many with similar stories.

To those wondering if or why the lyrics of the chant are racist, consider this – the Argentinian national team did not see the irony & downright stupidity in mocking a team for having immigrant parents from countries like Angola. 97% of the population in Argentina, of course, have either partial or full European ancestry. The song then, implies that it is not bad per say to be the child of an immigrant – unless of course, your parents came from the African continent.

Equally humiliating and ignorant, is that Argentina also owes one of its cultural gemstones, the tango, to the very country its players took glee in insulting. Milonga, considered the antecedent to the tango, a musical genre immensely popular in the Rio De Plata belt stretching across Argentina, Uruguay and Brazil, comes from the Buntu language of Angola. The melancholic verses of tango classics in this age, which bemoan the tragic loss or heart-wrenching parting of a lover, have root in milonga, mu longa, word, conversation, of victims of the Trans-Atlantic slave trade gathering together and sharing tales of grief, loss and unspeakable horrors.

Compare that to the origins of the chant itself, concocted by a group of Argentinian fans taking advantage of a live TV segment at the 2022 World Cup in Qatar, to sing their crass rendition to the camera. By the end of the chant, even the Argentinian reporter can be shouting - “no, no, censurada!” No, no, censored.

The Argentinian National Team only had to look across to the European Champions and Nico Williams, whose Ghanaian parents crossed the Sahara, climbed the Melillia border fence that separates Morocco from Spain, in the hopes of giving their children a better life. Nico and his elder brother Iñaki both were born in Spain, grew up Basque, play for the same club but one plays for Ghana and the other for Spain. The branches of one family tree have yielded fruit for two different nations 5,500 kilometers apart, on two different continents.

Enzo’s moment of disgrace is but a small symptom of a larger issue in Argentina. The country’s incredible history is rife with insidious spells of conquest and genocide against those of native and African ethnicity. In the 18^th century, nearly half of the population of multiple cities in Argentina were afroargentinos. Today, in most of Argentina that number is less than 1%. In its long, illustrious football history stretching over more than a century, only three Afro-Argentine players have played for La Albiceleste. The first one, Alejandro de los Santos, was born in 1902. The last one, Héctor Baley, in 1950.

This is not an Argentina problem alone. As is the case, tragically, with ethnic minorities in most countries across the world, lack of representation, social empathy and relevant education leads to a majority of the population standing on the fine line that separates ignorance from racism. Correcting both of those issues begins with an epiphany – sometimes by oneself, at times by an intervention by those close to you.

Finding your place, your identity, when you belong to two worlds can be complicated, often emotionally gruelling. In Mesut Ozil’s message announcing his retirement, two poignant statements echoing that sentiment stood out – I am German when I win, I am immigrant when I lose, and more importantly, I have two hearts – one is German, the other Turkish. It is impossible for a majority of the world to fathom that.

As the young star of a global club, based in a multi-cultural city, representing an entire continent, Enzo should have known and done better than to grossly offend those he spends 3/4ths of his present life with in the trenches before battles. Forgiveness and acceptance from his teammates and his club are far from guaranteed. However, the best apology is, almost always, changed behaviour. It will be a long, arduous penance, but a necessary one. Every action of his from here on will speak louder than his words, especially hollow ones crafted with comic sans.