Brate: 23 May 2025

Another Juninho Farewell Letter Edition of the Daily Merengue

A Series of Farewell Letters From Juninho.

別れの挨拶の練習をしているだけ

I’m just practicing how to say goodbye.

Welcome to The Daily Merengue — a place where you can feel free to discuss all things football. Do not be alarmed by the overt RMCF bias. It’s in the name!

Shoutout to the Mods who do a fantastic job, Valyrian Steel, KungFuZizou, NeRObutBlanco, Felipejack, and Juninho (the “The Greatest Mod”).

Letter #4 — BRATE

Dear MM

Or Actually Dear Modric. I’m not going to wax lyrical about your accolades because you already know them. You already know about your Real Madrid accomplishments. You laugh every time that you need two hands to show the number of CL trophies that you’ve won. The Madrid sunlight shimmers on your Balon D’Or every morning that you wake up. Standing ovations intertwined with chants from foreign languages constantly ring in your ears, and highlight how much you mean to world football. You are a colossus and truly a titan of the football world. You are one of the greatest. Therefore, I’m not going to wax lyrical today about your accolades. Anyway…Kiyan is probably about to do that 10x better than I ever could.

So today, I’m just going to write about what you mean to me. I’m going to write about your resolve. I’m going to write about how – more than anything, to me, you’re a lesson. You’re a reminder that we need to give footballers time before damning them to irrelevancy. Through every trivela pass to Rodrygo and corner taken in the 93’ against Atleti, you showcase that “La Liga’s worst signing” can suddenly become one of the greatest midfielders in football history. That a wasted 40M can eventually become a bargain with just the right touch of better positioning, some defensive help (thanks Casemiro), and a new voice (thanks Carlo). In my eyes, you will forever be a symbol of tenacity. You will forever be a reminder that where you start doesn’t indicate where you end. That a country with a population less than London can touch glory. That a small kid born in a stone home can grace the highest stages of football excellency. That you must fight and claw for what you want from this world. That there is no room to give up. There is no Plan B – only Plan A. We’re wolves…right? We work until they etch our names into history.

But again, more than anything, you’re a lesson. A lesson of time and its cruel callous nature. You’re a lesson about how you’re often defined by your last moments rather than your peaks. And how difficult it is to find the right moment to walk away and to preserve your greatness. As I write this farewell letter and contemplate my own goodbye, while debating the temptation to succumb to Val’s persuasive arguments to have me continue at MM, I reflect on my relationship with you. I’ll admit – I wanted you to leave Real Madrid years ago and at the very latest last season while holding a CL trophy. This wasn’t because I refused to see your greatness or didn’t think you could still pinpoint a pass with the same accuracy as when you were 33. I wanted you to leave because of time. Because time robbed your legs of their speed. Time robbed your physical Fede-esque box-to-box nature. Time and younger talents began to showcase chinks in the gold statue of your legacy. Time comes for us all. So I began to relentlessly advocate and admit that maybe it was time for you to step aside too. I’ll be honest, I now understand why you didn’t…I said that a few days ago. And I’m sorry for how callously I disregarded the emotional toll of your decisions.

But it’s a silly quote and in many ways, it still rings true. “You either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain” or as I believe Jamie Carragher once said “Leave football before football leaves you.” And I’ll admit Luka – I personally struggle with that. I think at times I struggle with that as I say goodbye to you too. I struggle and wonder if I (and at times you) prolonged our stays. I struggle and question whether we’ve just become villains. If our peaks were in the past, and if it’s possible for us to ever recapture that glory. Because maybe there have been too many mistakes and too many untracked midfielders into the box and too many arguments in each DT and too many altercations for us to ever find some semblance of redemption? Maybe our send off won’t be as grandiose simply because from their perspective we overstayed our welcome? Maybe they just won’t and can’t love us the same? Maybe the light shining on our celebrations are dimmer than they ought to be? But idk – I’m rambling at this point because maybe that’s all fine and who cares? We’re just mortal men — beautifully flawed creatures.

Anyway, watching you take on the responsibility of the #10 shirt and the captain’s armband has been a joy and a lesson. I’ll cherish these moments for the rest of my life. I wish you nothing but success in your future and earnestly believe that this isn’t as much of a goodbye as a “we’ll see you a bit later.”

Cheers,

J

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“is there a heaven for a G?”