The goal, wrote Eduardo Galeano, “is the orgasm of football”. “And like the orgasm, the goal is becoming less frequent in todays’ modern life”. And as the goals become scarce, the goals begin to resent becoming abandoned at the extremities, full of rust in these small fields, between pine trees, cedar trees and vegetable patches. Sunday after Sunday, the places on the stands have been losing fans and the weeds on the pitch began to spread to the box, where the dives of the goalkeepers lost applause over time, and now creep up the rusty goalposts that were once white and in days gone by reflected great saves. In Portugal, near the national road, rarely do you hear the scream ‘goal’. Portuguese version