Stories of Salta lives: Pablo “El Viejo” Méndez who remained in the hearts of the crows

Blessed lands if there are. Mystical places with magical corners and illustrious characters. Well, stepping on salteño soil, at the far point of northern Argentina, seems insignificant but I assure you that it is quite the opposite.

Among such a crowd, I managed to visualize a short being with a handbag in his arms. It seems that the match Central Norte in the North neighborhood begins with total normality until suddenly there is a strong clash between two players. With the speed of lightning a gray-haired guy runs out, and athletic on par with a doctor. The man kneels while the doctorate dictates with his gestures the low seriousness of the case.

Pablo “Old” Mendez it persists on the ground sheltering its player. Like a son, he rubs, massages the affected area and hits his buttock with the back of his palm, translating that everything is fine and that he wants it strong as a bull, to jump back into the ring.

Thus thousands of ninety minutes passed. How that afternoon there were hundreds, where in the very pit, the green oil prepared with who knows what kind of dressings, he was shaking and uncovering to kiss some wound of a foot ball athlete.

Dressed in black, with his classic three-strap pants. Short lemon hairstyle, with parting. Thick, furrowed eyebrows. Pronounced lips and a stiff, hard type appearance. Old Mendez was the locker room. Nurse by profession. Masseur of passion. Healer, healer, a whole, in conclusion.

The smell, the heat, the stretcher, the injection, the aspirin. doWhat kind of masseuse is one who, in addition to massages, dries your sweat in battle, walks away in the hubbub and in cruel defeat, hugs you?

One black day, he went his way. Without much noise or honors. The gods will know about their massages, the sweets before each game and the perfume invaded by the air as a salvation ritual. Piece of soccer history, tears and abuse. Of contempt and ingratitude. Immense, passionate and remembered.

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