$BTC USDC Cerginho, the truth is that money has ruined human beings. And I’ll say more: money has ruined football and the dignity of life in society.
Without money, Cerginho, man finally rests. You don’t have to worry whether the dollar went up, whether the bitcoin price crashed, whether the stock market melted down, or whether the credit card bill is due on the tenth. There’s no bill! The stress is over. The guy wakes up in the morning with nothing to his name and thinks: "Great. I have nothing to lose, including because I have nothing." It’s total liberation through voluntary misery.
And in football, Cerginho? Without money, football goes back to its purest origins. This nonsense ends: a spoiled player earning two million a month just to get the ball to the second post. Without pay, the ones on the field are there out of sheer desperation or because they have no other choice in life. It’s the real grassroots football: the kind where the left winger runs for 90 minutes not to buy a Land Rover, but because if he loses the ball, the fans will catch him on the way out of the stadium.
Money brought modernity, and modernity brought advanced statistics, sideways passing, and the defensive midfielder who won’t put in any harder challenge at the byline. Without money, there’s no VAR, no transfermarkt, no greedy agent. It’s every man for himself—the referee whistling in blue jeans—and the trophy at the end of the season being nothing but pure soap or an overcooked chicken.
Financial poverty, Cerginho, is the only condition that guarantees peace of mind. Whoever has no cent is immune to scams, immune to inflation, and immune to the system. It’s the victory of the simple man over the greed of capital.
Without money, Cerginho, man finally rests. You don’t have to worry whether the dollar went up, whether the bitcoin price crashed, whether the stock market melted down, or whether the credit card bill is due on the tenth. There’s no bill! The stress is over. The guy wakes up in the morning with nothing to his name and thinks: "Great. I have nothing to lose, including because I have nothing." It’s total liberation through voluntary misery.
And in football, Cerginho? Without money, football goes back to its purest origins. This nonsense ends: a spoiled player earning two million a month just to get the ball to the second post. Without pay, the ones on the field are there out of sheer desperation or because they have no other choice in life. It’s the real grassroots football: the kind where the left winger runs for 90 minutes not to buy a Land Rover, but because if he loses the ball, the fans will catch him on the way out of the stadium.
Money brought modernity, and modernity brought advanced statistics, sideways passing, and the defensive midfielder who won’t put in any harder challenge at the byline. Without money, there’s no VAR, no transfermarkt, no greedy agent. It’s every man for himself—the referee whistling in blue jeans—and the trophy at the end of the season being nothing but pure soap or an overcooked chicken.
Financial poverty, Cerginho, is the only condition that guarantees peace of mind. Whoever has no cent is immune to scams, immune to inflation, and immune to the system. It’s the victory of the simple man over the greed of capital.