The last
chapters of Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby
depict the toil of Nick Carraway at attempting to give Gatsby's body a
decent funeral. No one, from the streams of visitors that had flooded Gatsby's
mansion during his many parties, cared to show up and say a last goodbye to the
otherwise mysterious playboy. 'They were careless people', mourned Carraway at
such a desolation.
The tragedy
of Miguel Herrera at El Tri can well
be compared to that of Mr. Gatsby if one takes into account that both
characters share personal histories of truly humble past whose rising star eventually -and temporarily- made them famed, rich and beloved by everyone. The
tale of the self-made men. Coming from a poor town in Hidalgo, Herrera made a
football career as a diehard defender for Mexican clubs typically identified
with the working classes like Atlante and Toros Neza. Fitzgerald is said to
have based Gatsby on the story of Greek slave Trimalchio, who legally obtains
liberty and through hard work amasses incredible wealth that subsequently
squanders giving lavish banquets to impress his guests.
"¡Hay
tiro! ¡Hay tiro!" shouted a cheerful Paul Aguilar using a country parlance
which equates to something like "Let's get ready to rumble!" when his
now former boss approached pundit Christian Martinoli at the immigration and
customs spot somewhere between Philadelphia and Monterrey. Aguilar, known for
his exuberant goal celebrations and his tendency to collapse when a rival
whispers at his ear, would have shown Herrera his support in such a way
according to Martinoli's coworker and former Mexico player Luis García. He went
further on Guillermo Ochoa: 'You seem to me an average goalie, but even more
average as a person with that mocking laugh during the whole flight back'.
García's words
regrettably reveal what we all began to know when the Dos Santos brothers pandered
to Herrera's misbehavior via Twitter. Many of the players, perhaps those most
questioned, formed an entourage of much self-indulgence and scarce
self-criticism in the world of El Piojo. Not all were like that, but the
images of a paralyzed and speechless Carlos Vela before a furious Herrera
approaching Martinoli to give more verbal abuse in the boarding queue, and the
apathetic remarks of Héctor Herrera ("I wasn't in charge of him"),
also reveal how lonely Herrera was within a group of thirty or more individuals.
El Tri has no leadership on moral
grounds.
Soon after
Herrera's sacking was made official, Javier Estepa, an Spanish journalist from
Marca, tweeted that with the gone boss many of his former footballers may
refrain from the national team too in retaliation. As much as anything happens
in Mexican football lately, it is nonetheless true that national bosses have come
and gone without any player voluntarily withdrawing from international duties out of a sense of solidarity. 'Professionalism', is how Andrés Guardado named it
after the Panamá match.
