Kumari without code…

From the 60's until today the same phase. Not once did the championship start without a maneuver. No maneuvers. Is it necessary to add something else for the observer to agree that in Greece the championship is released on the basis of permanent, traditional type, leprosy?

Team bosses have a completely adventurous relationship with the subject. Not a business relationship, as required. They got involved with the ball to help their team. But they stun us. They spit on football, they slander it. At every opportunity. Publicly and officially. Close up of the leaflets, which also do not treat football as an industrial product, as a spectacle, as popular entertainment, but as a means for the supposedly crazy fans to make their mark. These patients really have no idea about football, they are not interested in the subject.

Two gentlemen playing gunpowder on the street. The blanket is spread on the sidewalk of the Stadium. Kumari without code. That's why the two rams are constantly fighting. And their personal rivalry is advanced by an audience of labeled lechers, fans and journalists, while politicians are making a fool of themselves.

Playing in an illegal bar is respectable. Reliable. And he has morals. Rules. Alas. It does not sound like more words. Not a word. Only measured rules, necessary in the smooth process from one roll to the other. The barbuti that we said was made on the terrace, a few meters from the corner lanterns, is a night owl. The pinballs do not stop. And from those who hold the bones in their hands, and from the gypsies who flattened to set the scene.

The championship will start, if it starts, and no one knows if it will end normally. If there will be breaks again, postponements, because the crap minister has to do his part. And if one or two groups leave early. This is the miserable situation. And to think that the big PAEs are in the hands of big businessmen who are already maneuvering, equally and behind the scenes, the public life of the country.

Unbelievable, so to speak, culturally, is the local championship. And the first conversation with the eye, with the thought of the gambler is far from shit. How to bet on this resilience thing? And yet! The unreliability of this particular championship has its… gambling grace. You take the place of the papatzi. That is?

Here a priest, there a priest, who is the… priest, asks the victim the priest who has set up a shop on the side street, always ready to pick them up and run away if a policeman comes out, who is not in the bay either. You are playing with Papatzis. For sure. Foukaras the carpenter, for the daily wage he goes, not the fat grabber. So are you. In a few moments, the pocket money will come out of the bloat of the Greek championship.

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