More Zozulya, more Marca and more Spanish football politicians. (10th March, 2017)

So Zozulya has officially terminated his contract with Rayo and returned to Betis, where he can't play (but is allowed to sign for a fourth club outside Spain), and the relegation battle has never been tighter at this stage since the 1971-72 Segunda, with four points separating the bottom eight teams. And Marca cited the season incorrectly as the 1970-71 Segunda (read it here):

Yes, it was an innocent mistake. But the fact that it was Marca makes it really, really funny.

Because I've been working on some other long-form pieces I almost don't want to post today. However, I was trying to find something quick to write about and....realized that there are no shortcuts. Quality content or no content at all. All or nothing.

So I focused on adding to a previous article on Spanish football politicians, given how much I love politics and football.

And while updating a previous article is far less interesting than creating a new one and clicking "Publish", at least I wrote something today - and that's the whole point of this daily blogging venture.

So, the Spanish football politicians article (here) has been updated with the following players: Savo Milošević, Sergi Guardiola, Eñaut Zubikarai, Eduardo Teus, Salvador Artigas, Tomás Reñones, Jesús Gil.

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Ismael Urzaiz and Salamanca. A 22 team La Liga. Trust and Víctor Casadesús (9th June, 2017)

Salamanca traveled to Albacete to compete for promotion to La Liga with an impossible task on their hands. They had to overturn a 2-0 deficit away from home, against a side that entered La Liga's relegation playoff spots on the final day, and who had scored 44 goals in the league - just four less than Salamanca themselves. As the clock ticked towards the 90th minute, Salamanca were winning 1-0 yet in danger of losing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Born in Tudela, Navarre, Urzaiz began his professional career at Real Madrid's B-side, making his debut in Segunda División in 1989. Despite being a successful youth international, he did not make any La Liga appearances for the first team (however, he did play one game against Odense BK, in the 1990–91 European Cup). Urzaiz spent the 1991–92 season on loan at Albacete Balompié, making his top flight debut when he came on as a substitute against Athletic Bilbao in October 1991. In early 1993, he was loaned to Celta de Vigo

Non-league Incider: St Helens Town 3-0 Atherton Laburnum Rovers

Last game: 8th August: Dulwich Hamlet 2-1 East Thurrock United The previous day, I was blown away by my first ever football match experience. Dulwich Hamlet impressed me, but what impressed me more was the journey. The travel to the stadium was just as enjoyable as the football itself. I had caught the groundhopping bug. There were no games scheduled for the 9th of August. There was one, near Wigan, and all I had booked earlier was a refundable bus ticket from Manchester Airport leaving at quarter past midnight. I should have refunded it. This was a mistake. This whole day was a mistake. I was only slightly hungover from the previous night, but that was nothing compared to this feeling of loss - I couldn't handle the fact that there was a game happening. And I wasn't too far away. Just three hours and a bit. They'll fly by , I thought. I was in autopilot. Something within me made me get up, grab a bag, and get out the door. This wasn't me. I wasn't trave

Non-league Incider: Cray Valley Paper Mills 4-4 Punjab United Gravesend

Last game: 9th August: St Helens Town 3-0 Atherton Laburnum Rovers After ripping up my groundhopping calendar, mostly because I was determined to avoid overnight travel, and partly due to other commitments, there was a period of time where non-league football took a backseat. But that period did not last long. Because of course it didn't. Secretly, I'd loved travelling over ten hours back-and-forth to watch some 10th division football. And this was 9th division football in London. When I had gone to East Dulwich exactly a week back , I had commented on how the amount of graffiti struck me as I watched from on board a southeastern train. I was going the exact same way, but much further this time - then I had stopped at Denmark Hill, now I would have to go six stations further. The graffiti I had thought was so emblematic of south London quickly disappeared, as did the tall buildings desperately cluttered together. We, and by we I mean me, were going to the suburb

The Pride of Vallekas

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