To Cesc-With Love and Squalor on The Night Before Spain's First Game

Hey, Cesc. Can you hear me? You seen any elephants yet? Oh, right. Stupid question, Liz. Ok. I know it's late there. It’s just that- I’m gonna see you for the first time tomorrow and it’s hard. I mean- to see you with them. No, not Switzerland. Them. All of them. And him. Pique. Do you have any idea how it feels watching you guys laughing and joking and having cool hair together? No. I know we've been over this: it’s not your fault you have cool hair. I know Pique's hair just does that. But hey- we've got good hair too. Arshavin: babysoft. Rosicky: bohemian chic. Sagna! What about- ok. You're right. The hair's not the point. But I still can't bear the thought of you all listening to dance music together and you getting that glow you get when you hang out with them. You know you do, Cesc. Your Catalan glow. 

And I get it- I mean, who I am anyway? Just some lousy fool who against every contrarian impulse has chosen to believe in Arsenal and its built-in suffering. A club that’s made me believe in the RIGHT WAY OF DOING THINGS, in- oh. Rhetorical question. Right. That’s another conversation. But- is it? I mean:  think about it. You are the most perfect product of our footballing philosophy. Yes yes I know. You are not a product. You are a person, Cesc Fabregas, you are a person. I’m not being sarcastic. That’s just the way I talk. I’m American, remember? Hey, don’t forget: we have the same birthday. That should count for something shouldn't it? May 4 buddies in the house! Ok ok. I'm sorry. Weak. Won’t bring it up again. 

And I know it’s not like you're running away from me. You are going home. Where the sun is warm and the dancing lasts all night. Yes of course you need to train while you’re there. There at your more than a football club. Please. It’s not like there’s a pool. There is? Oh. Several? Awesome. But I did want to ask you- what does that make us? Have you been playing all this time at less than a football club? I know I know we've been over it: it's your destiny. But guess what: I don’t care! What about my destiny? To not always have a losing fucking side? Who else is gonna give me balls with "intelligence" on them? Are you there, Cesc? Oh. Sorry. Yeah no. No I didn't- yeah. A translation issue.

I know that at this rate one of those defenders from the North will go straight for your knees by the first week of the season. But you don’t need to play forever do you? I could take care of you. I mean, it's only a rental, but- hey! They won’t love you like I love you. Hey! They won’t- Fuck. Sorry.  I know. I promised. I know that song makes you cry. It’s Pique’s favorite too? Oh yeah? Fuck Pique. Just go already. Just go. 

But the thing is Francesc- oh sorry, Cesc, got it- the thing is you and I grew up together. I mean, footballing wise. At first I probably thought you were hot, though I don’t remember that. No no I didn't- no sad face! I can hear your sad face. ¡Cesc Fábregas Soler, el más guapo del carrer!  Better now? Ok. Where was I? Anyway, then I wanted to watch you play. And then: I wanted to BE you. No, it’s not creepy. I just wanted to be able to think like that. I wanted to understand space the way your body understands space. Cool. See, I knew you’d know what I meant. 

Cesc, tonight I found myself thinking back on the time we spent together, and I wound up watching this video over and over. It was the last time we were truly happy, wasn’t it? What a great fucking afternoon. Damn, I want to hate you. I do. It would make everything easier. I want you to sit on that bench for every game. But I don’t really. I want you to run out onto that pitch and show the world what we made. Yes of course that’s what I meant: what you are. Because If I am Arsenal and Arsenal is me well then you, Cesc Fabregas Soler, are my best self. Best selves move fast, they leave, and they leave us behind. It’s what they do, Cesc. It’s just what they do.