Where I am writing these lines, in the heart of the Mediterranean sea, Soccer (fútbol, they call it here) is the way of life.

It is not a way of life, but the way of life.

Soccer is everything. Peoples from Spain, France, Germany, Italy, England, all the way to Russia, or the Middle East, live and breath, pure soccer— all year long.

Above any other sport, soccer is the game, the game of life— The Real Game.

When national teams lose or win, the economy goes up, or down; politicians can win or lose; women give birth faster; or children, staring at the TV screen, smile or sadden and you, the adult, grin or grieve...

When national teams lose or win (Germany, for example, lost this week to France) the economy goes up, or down; politicians can win or lose; women give birth faster; or children, staring at the TV screen, smile or sadden and you, the adult, grin or grieve.

The “Pecosa” (the black & white ball the soccer ball) bounces up or down, or draws a magnificent curve, or hits the vertical in route to an spectacular goal, or becomes an ellipse before landing in the net, and the uproar happens in this new coliseum, and then mood of nations change…

...People cry or laugh…

...and the economy goes up or down.

Like any other fan, French President, François Hollande, is religiously watching his country national team beat Germany in the Stadium new VIP seat. Circumspect at times, fully joyful at others, specially when the players dressed in blue, his country flag colors, score twice against the Germans.

Deep under the skin of society, soccer is a revolving, non stop dynamics that determines everything— delicately, intuitively, but, nevertheless, powerfully.

Deep under the skin of society, soccer is a revolving, non stop dynamics that determines everything— delicately, intuitively, but, nevertheless, powerfully.

More than the emotions of baseball, or basketball, or American Football, so popular in America, Soccer emotions in Europe, as they are in Latin America, can be more intense, and lingers longer.

They can be so  intense that, when they happen, the emotions overflow from the field and can transform the reality beyond the stadium brick and mortar structure.

This week Leonel Messi, the Argentinian soccer star, was forced to go Court, in a process against him in Cataluña, for allegedly having avoided to pay taxes to the Spanish Government Treasury.

He was condemned to deferred penalty of 21 months in prison, and publicly humiliated for supposedly using deception to avoid paying taxes to “the Spanish IRS.”

Spain, who worships the Argentinian player, stop and watched while the prince of soccer walk down the shameful carpet to the “Audiencia,” where the judge listened attentively to his case and summarily ruled that, on top of fines that totals over $10 million Euros (over $12 Million of U.S. Dollars), he was required to spend 21 months “in prison.”

Enough to drive Barcelona F.C., when he plays, bankrupt, if the team were forced to bench his star player for almost 2 years, at the salary he earns: $70.5 million Euros (over $80 million U.S. dollars)

Like Maradona, like Pelé, like Cruyff, today Messi makes or breaks teams, makes or breaks banks, makes of breaks hearts, makes or breaks you and me, the soccer fans.

What would be like if Philadelphia were to bring a Messi and his magic to our city? Just take a look: