It Was Not a Champions League Broadcast,

although the screen was truly large—even by Atlas standards. We did not sell crisps or settle down in front of the screen. The games are not included in the subscription. It was merely a modest showing in our city. A demonstration.

In any event, it was not about how large and extravagant a screen we had. We soon realised that we were staring—that all of us together were staring into the same mirror. This is a painful and, if prolonged, very dangerous kind of gaze. 

Folk wisdom has always reminded us that the ‘evil eye’ is the beginning of trouble. What should we do when we begin to realise that this is precisely the eye we see not on the screen, but in the mirror?

There is no point in seeking a preview of the next—even more interesting—season in such an image; there is only this season. There is the difficult and dangerous now. 

With a touch of hypocrisy, we worry about children sitting before screens… Do we know what to do—with ourselves—when we cannot tear ourselves away from staring in the mirror? We are approaching the point when it will no longer be possible to pretend that we can cope with images.  

Long ago, the exotic corrida and the proverbial ‘red rag to a bull’ described the kind of spectacle which, after a brief lapse of attention, ends with a blow to the belly and one’s guts being torn out. Are we truly ready for such a national performance? It is time to look for volunteers. Olé!