King Football – some thoughts that are burning on my palette

When I look into my computer these days, I am immediately asked to identify myself as a fan by means of football decorations. This is completely absurd for me, of course.
It is not my intention not to identify myself with ball sports in all their fun, but rather not to apply for a mass hype, let alone one with all my “friends”, which has no other purpose than to satisfy a huge injection of capital into the football industry and to stimulate masses of fans whose sport is above all to drink and mob – in a bad case. On the bright side, they buy bravely fan articles and national jerseys the size of beer jugs and cheer about barbecue sausages.
But how can I cheer for a championship of corrupt officials in a country that persecutes, imprisons, tortures and even sometimes murders homosexuals? A country where artists, intellectuals are oppressed and people are starving? On whose orders thousands and thousands of dogs and cats were slain, poisoned, so that the cheering tourist does not see that they are made to starve? The blood of the thousand poor dogs of Sochi is not dried in my memory yet, there is kicked on fresh suffering. I am aware that even if gas chambers were built in Russia, the fun of football would not decrease. The joker doesn’t care where he spits on the floor, worldwide. Precisely because I appreciate the beauties of Russia, the landscape and culture and don’t feel far from the communist idea, that’s why I feel particularly horrified before this event.

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