It was only a matter of time before Luis Rubiales had his own film. I think about it while I wait for the plane that takes him from the Dominican Republic to land at the Barajas airport and the former president of the RFEF is detained on the same landing strip by special units of the Civil Guard. Perhaps it was an idea that was always there, a youthful dream that one day would serve as a vital review of all the adventures that were to come: from his surprising debut as a footballer in the Spanish First Division to his even more surprising coronation as a strong man. . of our football. There would be, without a doubt, the plot thread of a story that is difficult to believe and that could begin to be told at the end.

There is a moment, just after the final between Spain and England, where Rubiales exhibits for the first time and without any concealment his arts as a cinematic villain. The Spanish women’s team has just won the World Cup and the euphoric president celebrates the victory as his own without sparing a single gesture, not a single shout, not a single excess. He jumps, points his finger at the playing field and grabs his genitals in the presence of the Queen of Spain and one of the princesses, also the other FIFA authorities, who sense the effervescence of the character and separate themselves a couple of steps from the epicenter. . : Nobody likes to be around when a volcano explodes and Rubiales is, at that moment, a dangerous mix between Jason Statham and Krakatoa.

The first reports say that the attack on Jenni Hermoso will not be part of the film. Or the piquito, as Rubiales himself baptized it when he stood before the RFEF assembly after verse eight times The wolf of Wall Street, excited and defiant, to announce that he was not going to slow down. He did it surrounded by his family, with his daughters present and taking advantage of the trance to educate them about what he understands as the dangers of false feminism. “You are a crack”, he says Jenni told him almost by way of consent. And we all understood that, in reality, it was Rubiales himself who was directing himself. That he was the funny one Rubythe simple man, congratulating himself at the haggard look of our football while repressing the urge to grab his genitals again and leave the stage with his index finger pointing to the sky.

Rubiales got off the plane last, neat and tanned, as one would expect from a senior manager who has just spent a few days in the Dominican Republic prior to his arrest. And for a moment we curious people fantasize that Luis, the crack, became strong in the device. Or that he would flee across the track with one of those carts in which suitcases are transported, who knows if he would skid in one of the curves and use one last violent caper to jump the fence and flee across the field. Action movies usually bring us all kinds of surprises, but in this case we had to settle for seeing the protagonist of our story entering a black van on his own two feet, docile, almost defeated, at least in that scene.

“You have achieved success in your field when you don’t know whether you are working or playing,” Warren Beatty once said. Now it’s up to a judge to tell us who the artist formerly known as Rubiales really was: sometimes a hawk, often a dove.

You can follow EL PAÍS Deportes in Facebook and xor sign up here to receive our weekly newsletter.

_