I know the deck is stacked against me.
Sid is a doctor. I enjoy Doctor Who. Sid gets paid to write for Guardian Football. I write this blog (mostly) for free on my off days from working a mundane administrative job. Outside of football, Sid is a published author and respected Spanish historian. Outside of football, I sing countertenor in between watching reruns of Air Crash Investigations on YouTube. Sid speaks Spanish fluently. I speak barely enough French to order a cab. Sid lives in Spain. I live in Hogtown.
But is it really responsible to entrust one English-speaking man with basically everything we know about La Liga? Of course not. And although I don't speak a lick of Spanish, I've never read anything ever published in Marca, and I only ever used to watch La Liga if El Clasico was on or I happened to be at home late on a Saturday with nothing to do, I have decided to set the bar freakishly high by being Mr. Lowe's sober second thought when it comes to all things La Liga.
I have a lot of catching up to do. I don't have a team to support. Do I need one? Maybe not. I've decided to let osmosis take its course, and will be considering everything from the colour of the shirts to the look of the stadium to help sway me one way or another. I'm also not going to ruin things by reading up on club histories or anything like that—that's way too Sid Lowe.
I do know I don't like Barcelona anymore. Poaching Mascherano from Liverpool? While that obviously pales in comparison to the devastating loss of Dirk Kuyt to Inter, that's some buzzard-type shit right there, like picking away at the ropy flesh of a Liver bird with both it's feet and eyes missing. And Pep Guardiola is now a bona fide Hipster—the man could walk through the Lower East Side or Mile End, bike lock in one hand and Americano in the other, and no one would bat an eye. That to me is tantamount to evil.
So basically, the rule for my La Liga coverage will be to think What Would Sid Write? (WWSW?) and do the opposite of that. Apologies in advance.