Clarified the skill concerning the table football, my reflection takes me to times of memories, of nostalgia, of companionship, of frustrations, of punishments … Of all this the table football was guilty.
The first memory that I have of it is newly bulging of the den of my people, years 60, when I moved to Valencia of Don Juan to estudir in the school of the Augustinian ones.
The one that first was coming to the games room was taking position. The Main Father was distributing the ball, the table football was free, and the one that had the ball was initiating the game. My first scare happened after topecientos days of catching neither table football nor ball; the Father me approaches, concentrates on me, and the ball happens to me. I was considered to be the uncle more important, finally someone realized that those of my people existed. Mi primer sobresalto ocurrió después de topecientos días de no pillar ni futbolín ni bola; el Padre se me acerca, se fija en mí, y me pasa la bola. Me consideré el tío más importante, por fin alguien se daba cuenta que los de mi pueblo existían.
The second scare I took it in an attempt of coming to the table football to full career for the corridors; it was prohibited but it still had not recorded in my neurons of people that it of running was when we were playing football and when they were punishing us. There mismito, me one had left engraved forever. Allí mismito, se me quedó grabado para siempre.
The above mentioned Main Father took me to the courtyard, and to ten more incautious ones. Imagine the scene: In December, Siberian time, courtyard with a finger of ‘icicle‘, still had not come the climate change and when it had to be cold, it was cold, not as now that when it has to be cold, you see the youngsters in shirt sleeves. Well, I continue with the neurons recording: Diciembre, tiempo siberiano, patio con un dedo de ‘carámbano’, aún no había llegado el cambio climático y cuando tenía que hacer frío, hacía frío, no como ahora que cuando tiene que hacer frío, ves a los jovencitos en mangas de camisa. Bien, continúo con la grabación de neuronas:
- Descálcense pollinitos, - it was one of the affectionate phrases that I had left engraved, to fire and to cold-. Give me 125 returns to the courtyard, - I do not always know porqué he was punishing us with an odd number of returns-.
I was leaving neither of the body nor the color nor the heat. Iván, more bold asks:
- father: can we take the socks from ourselves?
- not, pollinito, that your father pays the socks.
Of that happiness, the chilblains came out from me …, and the neurons and the table football will remain recorded for my eternity.
It keeps on costing the expression: filly goes!, what I learned concerning the table football. Another day more. Otro día más.

A saltito and I present before myself in the 70s, where the pollinitos did chickens to themselves, the table football was already not free and the chilblains went on to better life. And it of running? It was already not so vital: if you pay, do not run, they hope for you! Ya no era tan vital, ¡si pagas, no corras, te esperan!
Anyway, Valladolid and the room of table footballs that there was in the street Marina Escobar was the coffee, the glass and the cigar of my years 70; good the budget was giving for a few games and Celts, I cut and without filter …, and without music, the group was not invented yet, although it must already do noise for the stores of the Delights.
On these evenings of winter Saturday in the table footballs room it is part of a fascinating memory of youth. We initiate the exit at large of the Real School, we were doing proofs of aspiring to everything. Many problems evenings dawned; there were our years posconcilares. Amanecieron muchos atardeceres de pro-blemas; eran nuestros años posconcilares.
Good do not discuss to me that about a fubolín we could reflect on the Gaudium et Spes; it was later, when we were returning, relaxed. I do not remember who the winner was. It was playing of defense and it was always losing. But there is not this the affectionate memory that I have. It is the moment that we were joining, initiating the walk along the Big Field, or the Campogrande, that I never know how he writes himself and strolling, speaking and discussing, were ending concerning the table football …, I of defense as always and to break the ball. No recuerdo quién era el ganador. Jugaba de defensa y siempre perdía. Pero no es ese el cariñoso recuerdo que tengo. Es el momento que nos juntábamos, iniciábamos el paseo por el Campo Grande, o el Campogrande, que nunca sé cómo se escribe y deambulando, hablando y discutiendo, terminábamos en torno al futbolín…, yo de defensa como siempre y a romper la bola.
Years spent … Of those revelries these muds. And in the 80s, expelled from the school …, for villain, do not doubt it, I remember a game again to the table football in a pueblecito of León.
It had a leg plastered, for a sad and pernicious accident. Neither nothing nor nobody was entertaining me and the visit of these friends who have accompanied me in the 'icy' courtyard, in the evenings / night of the street Marina Escobar, they expelled me from my sadness and in pedacitos I turned to put in the defense of a table football, breaking the ball …
What they want that he says to them! Really LuisJo: filly goes!
- A partidita? I of defense.

Tinuko

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They will not play already again, not even cheating that of the inn with the old trick of the jammed currency.

Little by little, the arms of the stars of the ball will begin to splinter.
Its legs, which so many mornings of escaqueo and evenings of secret storage for the cold, so many goals gave, will suffer the gangrene of the moisture and of the time.
Agony of the soccer player of bar of people, martyred, to the little of being born, with a metal pole crossing and breaking its ribs.
The woodworm will do the rest.
The webs will do of gray the one that was for years the field of all the teams and of all the sleep of the kids.
Of little it serves now to do pitfalls.
They all have left.
Nobody stays in San Valero.
Because the one that loses, the pay.

Diego Hermoso

It can see its blogs

http://diegohsmar.blogspot.com / 2009/11/el-futbolin.html

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I know that many of you like the writing. So it is already time to extract these histories that you have there well kept in your drawers and announce them. If you want to send your texts you can do it across the e-mail. Si queréis enviar vuestros textos podéis hacerlo a través del correo electrónico.

Also I know that many of you like the photo. Since also it is time for you to order these photos that with so much you keep fondness and zeal for sé for that I declare bankrupt or that you do not want to announce for fear of that they copy the motive to you. So I cheer you up to send also by e-mail your photos that it can serve of inspiration for some history. Of course that do not occupy any more than one megabyte. This way Jesus Arenales and Alice González have done it. Así que os animo a que enviéis también por correo electrónico vuestras fotos que puede servir de inspiración para algún relato. Eso sí que no ocupen más de un megabyte. Así lo han hecho Jesús Arenales y Alicia González.

 Today I propose to you to put title to this photo of Alice González and to dedicate some letters to him. The title The table football is an obvious tag that I have put him. But up I cheer you to write a small history, microrrelato, poetry or what should inspire you (not more than thousand words). There is no award. Sorry. At the moment we are poor, but perhaps soon change the thing. The only reward is to see her here publish, in this web and the best they will go on to the electronic edition of Magazine Atticus. Until December 12 there is time so that they enter the number 9 that will go out at the end of this month.es una etiqueta obvia que yo le he puesto. Pero os animo a escribir un pequeño relato, microrrelato, poesía o lo que os inspire (no más de mil palabras). No hay premio. Lo siento. De momento somos pobres, pero tal vez pronto cambie la cosa. La única recompensa es verla aquí publicada, en esta web y los mejores pasaran a la edición electrónica de Revista Atticus. Hasta el 12 de diciembre hay tiempo para que entren en el número 9 que saldrá a finales de ese mes.

Sure. It could not be otherwise. With the example it is preached. So I have cheered up and leave to you my history that goes for title: Filly goes. Con el ejemplo se predica. Así que me he animado y os dejo mi relato que lleva por título: Vaya potra.

- Filly goes that you have uncle!

- Of that not at all.

 Some days us pirábamos the class to go to play the table footballs.

 Of that already a few years ago. The habitual thing between us was to play in the courtyard of the school, to play in the playtime or but in any street place. At that time the street was a good place. Also there were many raised areas since innumerable lots existed without building since there were times in which the real estate boom just was a figment. Por aquel entonces la calle era un buen lugar. También había muchas explanadas ya que existían innumerables solares sin edificar pues eran tiempos en los que el boom inmobiliario tan solo era una quimera.

 The favorite game was undoubtedly the soccer. But there existed the version of dessert that was demanding neither the ball of regulation, nor the goals, nor the network, certainly that the last one in my times was a luxury. Only the goals were dressing themselves in the network in the official parties, when the streaks of the field were making up and the umpire was coming to try to clear up. The linieres there was another luxury that was only accessible by the finals of the different championships. Solo se vestían las porterías con la red en los partidos oficiales, cuando se pintaban las rayas del campo y el árbitro acudía a intentar poner orden. Los linieres era otro lujo que solo era accesible para las finales de los distintos campeonatos.

The table football, the dessert soccer was an entertaining game that was occupying us a few hours. It had a small snag. While in the courtyard of the school in the moment that we join a ten lads we were starting playing without much ado, for the table football it was necessary to have money to play. Yes, in agreement that was cheap, but it was necessary to have bitches to play. Mientras que en el patio de la escuela en el momento que nos juntamos una decena de chavales nos poníamos a jugar sin más, para el futbolín había que disponer de dinero para jugar. Sí, de acuerdo que era barato, pero había que tener perras para jugar.

 It was possible to play an one against one. You were looking like the man it orchestrates, now with the doorman, now with the front part, from here for there following the ball. Also it could be two against one when you had not left any more remedy. The habitual thing in the game was to have a good partner. These were the games buenonas, those of two for two and the game excellently it belonged to that of throwing a pierdepaga. There were friends who were specializing in the goal, which they were doing of the defense, of three rear ones, an authentic impassable bastion. If some of the balls was already happening there was the doorman who was doing real boasting to realize a few stops of daydream and that that was fastened for the fixed bar. There was times that it seemed to demolish in search of the ball. And then they were dominating the art of extracting. A good one extracts, rapidly and guided, it could be a half a goal. I remember one extract that it was putting the doorman in horizontal, mouth below and the ball placed in its backs of the knee. With a doll draft you were planting the saque in the middle of your front part. These friends, the doormen, were very valued. But those who were taking all the leading role, as it happens with the soccer, he was the forwards. Memory is more right now the somewhat contemptuous phrase: "it avenges you of doorman”. Also there were usually the chops of the panda. A lad weak and reduced for doorman costs, but for forward since like whom not. The forwards were skillful like few ones. It was impossible to believe how with a sibylline doll touch they were doing to you a dodge that they were leaving to the double defender and to the doorman to see them coming. También podía ser un dos contra uno cuando no te quedaba más remedio. Lo habitual en el juego era disponer de un buen compañero. Esas eran las partidas buenonas, las de dos para dos y la partida por antonomasia era de la de echar un pierdepaga. Había amigos que se especializaban en la portería, que hacían de la defensa, de los tres zagueros, un autentico bastión infranqueable. Si alguna de las bolas pasaba ya estaba el portero que hacía verdaderos alardes para realizar unas paradas de ensueño y eso que estaba sujeto por la barra fija. Había veces que parecía volar en busca de la bola. Y luego dominaban el arte de sacar. Un buen saque, rápido y dirigido, podía ser medio gol. Me acuerdo de un saque que era poniendo al portero en horizontal, boca abajo y la bola situada en sus corvas. Con un giro de muñeca plantabas el saque en medio de tu delantera. Estos amigos, los porteros, eran muy apreciados. Pero los que se llevaban todo el protagonismo, como sucede con el fútbol, era los delanteros. Es más ahora mismo recuerdo la frase un tanto despectiva: “venga tú de portero”. Además solían ser los chuletas de la panda. Un chaval canijo y apocado para portero vale, pero para delantero pues como que no. Los delanteros eran habilidosos como pocos. Era imposible creer como con un sibilino toque de muñeca te hacían un regate que dejaban al defensa doblado y al portero a verlas venir.

 The good games were surrounded with a big sense of expectancy. One was proceeding to choose the table inside the table footballs. It was known that one or it had other one fallen. Then also we knew some table that with some small trick you could be staking practically the whole evening because you were manipulating the knob of discharge of the balls. Those games had no time, they were regulated by what you were taking in playing eight balls. Then they were already reducing the number and the meetings were shorter. As soon as the table was chosen it was necessary to choose the team. We were looking at the bars because there was some that were running better than others, they were lighter. It was clear that someone was settling the situation with a gob for lack of better lubricant. The party was starting with one extract to the way, of as impartial as possible. You were striking the ball in the rim of the table as if you were going to crack an egg and zas … that rolls the ball for the way of the table. Then with every goal the saque was corresponding to the team that had fitted so much and was doing it from the rear. Se sabía que una u otra tenía caída. Luego también conocíamos alguna mesa que con algún pequeño truco te podías estar prácticamente jugando toda la tarde porque manipulabas el tirador de descarga de las bolas. Aquellas partidas no tenían tiempo, eran reguladas por lo que tardabas en jugar ocho bolas. Luego ya fueron reduciendo el número y los encuentros eran más cortos. Una vez elegida la mesa había que elegir el equipo. Mirábamos las barras porque había unas que corrían mejor que otras, eran más ligeras. Claro que alguno solventaba la situación con un escupitajo a falta de mejor lubricante. El partido empezaba con un saque al medio, de lo más imparcial posible. Golpeabas la bola en el borde de la mesa como si fueras a cascar un huevo y zas… que ruede la bola por el medio de la mesa. Luego con cada gol el saque le correspondía al equipo que había encajado el tanto y lo hacía desde la zaga.

 There was a resource that was an object of living discussions. Her against. “It does not cost, does not cost why you have done it against”. Her against consistía in a hypothetical beating to the air when the opposite was going to extract. The forwards usually did it opposite to the defenders when these were preparing to extract the ball. Of the result of this action the fact was that there was taking place a violent rebound that was surprising the most wide-awake doorman. So, before initiating the game, it was necessary to make it quite clear if it was costing or it was not costing against.“No vale, no vale por que has hecho la contra”. La contra consistía en un hipotético golpeo al aire cuando el contrario iba a sacar. Lo solían hacer los delanteros frente a los defensas cuando estos se disponían a sacar la bola. De el resultado de esta acción era que se producía un rebote violento que sorprendía al portero más avispado. Así que antes de iniciar el juego había que dejar bien claro si valía o no valía la contra.

- Come: do we throw a table football?

- It costs.

- A pierdepaga. And it does not cost it against.

- Why not?

- Since why not. And also to turn.

- It costs. You, Juan, with me of doorman.

- Very well, but then we change.

 - Goooool!

- Certainly the first one that you throw and goal. Filly goes! Filly not, chorra, you have a chorra that I do not even know. Potra no, chorra, tienes una chorra que ni sé.

- You if that you have. It avenges big sack and he is already quiet.

Luisjo

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One day Paco Umbral said that “the reality is always necessary to invent it from four information that there gives us the life, which utopizar is to be saved from the reality”. He was referring to inventing clearly, across the writing, but the true thing is that the reality can be rescued of other ways, it is possible to sublimate. It is possible to avert with reading the routine and to submit it with words like a dilapidated dragon, whose fire, after the literary prodigy it cannot already burn us. Se puede conjurar con lectura la rutina y someterla con palabras como un dragón desvencijado, cuyo fuego, después del prodigio literario ya no puede quemarnos.

The persons form the cities, and there where there is some anxious spirit, the provincial thing happens to be only worn-out adjective. From August, a new called bookstore LETTERS tries to open, we would not say even a way, but for the time being a small by-path, a minuscule path in the oficializado intellectual drowsiness of the city of Avila. It is not going to be easy, but it was necessary to try it, it was necessary to present cultural alternatives from the private ambience. After the different activities that the bookstore of San Roque has realizing 12 from its opening, today we greet the new club of reading that will start shortly, the first one in blooming far from the garden of the public libraries. Welcome is this initiative. No va a ser fácil, pero había que intentarlo, era necesario presentar alternativas culturales desde el ámbito privado. Después de las distintas actividades que viene realizando la librería de San Roque 12 desde su apertura, hoy saludamos el nuevo club de lectura que arrancará en breve, el primero en florecer lejos del jardín de las bibliotecas públicas. Bienvenida sea esta iniciativa.

One does not start from the beginning, although the experience is new. For any serious trip (“wonderful adventure is the reading”, that would say my eight-year-old daughter) there are needed awake and passionate guides, persons like Concha Dávila, that navy of illusion and of metaphors, has decided to submit the memory and the future to the grammar. For incredible that seems, before the civil digital anesthesia through that we live, it does not stop being subversive the fact that a few souls win concerning the reading and try to turn the subjective thing into group. Por increíble que parezca, ante la anestesia digital ciudadana que vivimos, no deja de ser subversivo el que unas cuantas almas se concilien en torno a la lectura e intenten convertir lo subjetivo en colectivo.

The Bookstore Letters, with Gemma Orgaz to the head, will be the temple where on a species of Castilian round table, a book sacrifices itself from time to time. A bloodless sacrifice of printed letter that allows to its participants to light the sacred flame of the good literature, a flame that saves the physical and mental walls, a light of words that illuminates our steps towards the ground of the knowledge.

                                                            Juan Antonio Sánchez Hernández

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First of all, we apologize to the participants for the delay in announcing the result of the mistake of this contest.

 Also we thank from here all the candidates for its participation. 

  The organization of the same one remained exceeded before the answer received in this first call.

   The councillorship of culture of this small population of Carpio Bernardo (Province of Salamanca) proposed the contest integrating it in the program of holidays of San Miguel 2009, with the intention of claiming the figure of Bernardo del Carpio, our local hero. Why across a literary event? Precisely because Bernardo de Carpio was for centuries an inspiration source for many writers. Some of the size of Lope de Vega (Félix Lope of Vega Carpio) who was saying to be a descendant of the personage in question going so far as to use like his the coat of arms of Cistercian. Precisamente porque Bernardo de Carpio fue durante siglos fuente de inspiración para muchos literatos. Algunos de la talla de Lope de Vega (Félix Lope de Vega Carpio) que decía ser descendiente del personaje en cuestión llegando a utilizar como suyo el escudo de armas de Bernardo.

It is documented the fact that Miguel de Cervantes died without making a novel finished narrating the exploits of the good Cistercian one. And the list does not end here. But perhaps it is better to sum the legend up: Pero quizás sea mejor resumir la leyenda:

Bernardo del Carpio  

Cistercian it had like parents to two furtive lovers who paid face its bravery. The progenitora, Jimena, was the sister of King Alfonso II the Chaste one. This one got into a passion on having received the news about the town hall not withstood by him. Father of the creature, shut the count of Saldaña up in the castle of Moon (after extracting previously the eyes) and it confined the mother in a convent of for life. Éste montó en cólera al recibir la noticia del ayuntamiento no consentido por él. Al conde de Saldaña, padre de la criatura, lo encerró en el castillo de Luna (tras sacarle previamente los ojos) y a la madre la confinó en un convento de por vida.

 The child was not stopping being a nephew of the monarch and this one treated it as such, without any resentment. It grew in the court and turned into a formidable warrior. The happiness of the boy truncated the same day that knew, by means of a secret, the luck of its parents. Immediately it requested the king its liberation. And this one refused. This way the heirs of the crown did successively. La felicidad del muchacho se truncó el mismo día que conoció, por medio de una confidencia, la suerte de sus padres. Inmediatamente rogó al rey su liberación. Y este se negó. Así hicieron sucesivamente los herederos de la corona.

 Before the denial of a third monarch our gentleman stops begging. He gets fed up … and rebels.

  It is in this moment when he decides to found the initial nucleus of the current town of Carpio Bernardo, constructing a castle and inviting to repopulate the environment. This way the general chronicle of Alfonso X testifies it. And from here it fights against the kingdom of León, in a quite explicit way of resigning from the supposed from Leon "nationality" that some of them attribute to him.Y desde aquí lucha contra el reino de León, en una forma bastante explícita de renunciar a la supuesta “nacionalidad” leonesa que algunos le atribuyen.

 In the end the from Leon king manages to cheat our good Cistercian one. In exchange for the fortification (which ruins can still be visited today in Carpio Bernardo) it liberates the father …: dead person! Cistercian, desperate, he decides to go into exile definitely. ¡muerto! Bernardo, despechado, decide exiliarse definitivamente.

 This is an extraordinarily shallow summary of a beautiful legend gathered in a few literary works.

  The innovation is that Cistercian it seems to be able to jump from the legendary world to the history with more force that never. In an international congress celebrated not long ago in Oviedo some historians contributed information in this sense. But this is already different matter … Pero esto es ya otro asunto…

 Carlos Sá

Member of the jury

The jury solves that the winning microrrelato of I Contest Bernardo del Carpio is the one that takes for title Autobiography of an inopportune one being the authoress Mar ia Jesus Arias Vega, with residence in Bilbao.

Our most sincere congratulations.

                           AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN INOPPORTUNE ONE

I was born to the grapes of a New Year's Eve and married the evening of 23 F.

One day I happened without calling and found my chief being proved a bikini.

When I felt indisposed and returned soon to house, I surprised my wife gone to bed with its lover.

I am inopportune and generous. I invited my mother to a big dinner with my first salary. To the wedding I gave free bar to the guests on the following day. I gave a few red leagues to my chief. And to my wife a weekend for two in a state-run hotel. A mi jefe le regalé unas ligas rojas. Y a mi mujer un fin de semana para dos en un parador.

 From Magazine Atticus we make the mistake of the contest public and congratulate all of all that they have taken part in the same one giving, especially, the congratulations to the winner of I Contest of Microrrelatos Bernardo of the Carpio, Maria Jesus Arias Vega.

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