Writer Eduardo Galeano described football as the 'great pagan mass'. Rightly so. It is everywhere in the world. The one which arouses greater passion, boundless enthusiasm, football is played in almost all corners of the globe. To the point that in civilized Europe and the underdeveloped Latin America, fans of either team enjoy, cry, insulted, assaulted and sometimes killed in the stadiums. Or in the alcoholic and calamitous celebrations after their team meetings. Have a huge joy and popularity uniting the most disparate humans beings, deserving both praise and diatribes from rant known intellectuals. Some, like Vargas Llosa, hate football and write that is a matter of commoners, of 'dangerous fanatics'. Others, like Albert Camus, consider it an art, an applied science in the green pitch. Nobel Prize, Camus said, he would gladly change his status as splendid writer for being a good goalie. Vargas Llosa hates sport and football in particular. In his novel 'The Notebooks of Don Rigoberto', wrote the diatribe: "I have to say that the practice of sports in general are extreme forms of imbecility that bring human beings to sheep, geese and the ant, three instances of gregariousness aggravated animal. " Then qualifies the athlete and the fan as "maniacal beast, an antisocial, a hysterical ... a potential murderer willing to kill officials, scorch all the fans of the opposing team, devastate the stadiums and the apocalyptic end result for your club to load a fake silver cup, or see their idols on a podium, flamboyant ridiculous in their short shorts and striped shirts."I love football. I enjoy his secret geometry and the great orgasmic experience of the goal. I have always believed that football is played with the head rather than with the feet. The instant court vision and position of the adversary, the accurate mastery of the passing, is an act of intelligence. Just as the dribbling, the 'tunnel', the 'walls', and the flight of the goalies. Galeano, in his book 'Football in Sun and Shadow', exalts Pele: "The ball, he says, seeks him, recognizes him, needs to come to rest on the bed of his foot, she rests and hammock. The Joe Nobodies, and the somebodies may feel touched and blessed by the grace of this game. " The players are gods of modern society that lost its heroes. Short-lived, devoured by the fierce demands of the crowds.