On my favourite colours
(2 December 2025)
It is not enough for a football kit to look right on its own: we have to see how it looks on the ten players — moving — on the pitch.
There are colour combinations, however, that are inherently attractive. The flag of the United Kingdom is aesthetically my favourite. One can therefore easily deduce how much I also liked, for instance, the kit with white shoulder trim that Kappa made for Barcelona.
I also love the crest of Club Atlético de Madrid, the kit (by Puma) they wore during the period of the aforementioned Barça kit by Kappa, and the flag of the United States of America.
I do not remember whether it happened while I was absorbed in one of my evenings drawing and colouring on sheets of paper, or while we were driving along the M-30 beneath the VIP box of the Vicente Calderón Stadium, but my mother — a Real Madrid supporter — noticed my attraction to the aesthetics of Atlético de Madrid and asked whether I was going to become an Atlético supporter. I denied it. She then told me that my brother had been an Atlético supporter when he was little. As soon as I saw him, I asked him about the incident, which he confirmed and maintained that he had simply liked the colours. I have often wondered whether he eventually became a Real Madrid supporter because it was the winning team, because of our family, because of his own particular biographical circumstances...
My uncle Mariño had been heard claiming to support Celta de Vigo, Deportivo de La Coruña and several other clubs (mostly Galician) depending on the weather and the day, in such a fashion that these professed allegiances could not (according to my mother) be taken seriously. In any case, his passion for Atlético de Madrid (‘Atlético Aviación’ until 1946) was unwavering, enduring and beyond question.
One day I showed my uncle, who had served in the Spanish Paratroopers Brigade, an uncoloured drawing I had made of the Calderón Stadium as seen from a car on the M-30 just before passing beneath the stands. I asked him what he thought, and he asked me if the drawing was a bus.
(My perception of that particular drawing and my reputation as a good draughtsman made such a reaction inconceivable and shocking: in fact, as we can see, I still have not forgotten it.)
Another day, also in my early teens, I shared with him my observation about the coincidence of colours, stripes and stars between his football team and the American flag. He agreed with me, yet reluctantly, with a sombre expression and a wrinkled nose, and I have often reflected on his evident displeasure. Was he bothered by the obvious lack of exclusivity in his club’s colours and visual identity? Was he bothered by the specific resemblance to the American flag? And, considering the latter, what would he have against the United States? Was it against the nation itself, in relation to Spain, in relation to the Second World War?...