Breaking the Rules for La Roja
“I’ve always followed the rules, but La Roja made me realise that sometimes breaking them is the right thing to do.”
30 June 2010. It’s 10 o’clock in the morning, and I’m about to go into class. Naturally, I’m wearing David Villa’s number 7 jersey: the win against Portugal in the 63rd minute was mind-blowing, and I’m still buzzing with excitement. Today I’m getting my marks for the last year of secondary school, and to say I’m nervous would be an understatement. Just like La Roja, I’ve got a lot riding on today.
My friends Pablo and Víctor are wearing numbers 1 and 5 – Casillas and Puyol. But the euphoria of reaching the quarter-finals is short-lived. My headteacher Don Fernando enters the classroom and, without making a big fuss but with unquestionable authority, orders us to take off our La Roja shirts and put on our school uniforms. Officially, the holidays are just around the corner, but we have to wear our school uniform right up until the very last day.
Far from being disheartened, I start thinking about how I’m going to cheat the system and wear my colours with pride. I’ve spent the whole school year following the rules and studying like mad, so a red jersey doesn’t seem like such a serious offence to me.
Now dressed in white and green, I find myself holding my report card… and feeling rather strange. I should be celebrating my marks even more than last night’s victory. But the fact that they’ve imposed such an absurd rule on a day like this keeps gnawing away at me, and I decide to take action.
I make the most of the break and dash off to the loo. There, I take off my white polo shirt and swap it for Spain’s colours. And the fantastic number 7 home kit my parents bought me on our last holiday in Asturias – yes, Villa’s homeland – feels more apt than ever.
I head down the stairs to the playground and burst out laughing when I see that Víctor and Pablo have had the same idea. Except they’ve gone one step further and are wearing the official shorts, too. There we are, three lads dressed in red in an almost deserted religious school – quite the sight.
We go back inside and, once in the corridor, we discover that practically the whole class has put on the jersey. Don Fernando knows time is running out, so he has no choice but to succumb to the red tide. The real surprise comes when I notice he’s wearing a tiny badge with the Spanish national team’s crest on his jacket lapel. Small victories, I suppose.
Like a last-minute goal, the most important lesson comes right at the end of the school year. I realise that it’s not about disobeying for the sake of it, but some occasions and teams bring a whole class together and are worth breaking the rules for.
That day, we weren’t living it up for La Roja, but the fact that we’d found a cause to pull together for in such a challenging school year. Personally, I was celebrating a small act of defiance that has stayed with me to this day and helps me know what’s right and when I should speak out. Or put on the jersey.
