We're going up for sure, watch out, Larcamón is coming: chronicle of a burned-out fanbase

There are phrases you don't say in Gijón anymore—you whisper them in fear, like naming a ghost. And the favourite one this June is the mother of them all: «this year for sure». Again. Number… I've lost count, honestly. But don't worry, because this time it's different. This time Larcamón is coming. And with Larcamón, apparently, comes promotion, beautiful football, El Molinón packed to the rafters, and probably world peace too.

We're going up for certain. The gaffer said so, Riestra blessed it and Orlegi signed off on it. Close your eyes, buy your season ticket and let yourself be carried away.

Same old speech, just with a new accent

Look, I've nothing against Larcamón. Argentine from La Plata, 41 years old, intense, the type who walks into El Molinón and says «when this place ignites, it explodes». He comes fresh from Cruz Azul where he left a good impression, and before that he won the Concacaf with León. Brilliant. I love it. The problem isn't the speech—it's that I've been hearing the same speech every summer for so long I can recite it word for word in my sleep, like the Happy Birthday song.

Every new manager arrives convinced he's the chosen one. Every president swears we mean business this time. Every pre-season is the one that'll do it. And every May we end up eating a playoff defeat or, straight up, a mid-table finish looking more down than up.

The bit that makes me laugh the most: now it's our turn to pay

Here comes my favourite part of the script. The club, after a season to forget, writes a lovely letter to the members. Takes responsibility—nice, fair play for that, seriously—and then extends an open hand. An open hand. Palms up. You know where this is going.

Capital injection, brand new squad with ten or twelve signings, total revolution… all very nice. And us, the supporters, putting in the faith and the wallet, as always. Mind you, they say the season ticket prices won't go up. Well, that'd be the least. After what they've put us through, raising them would be proper villain energy. But the underlying message is the old one: «trust us, we're going to do everything brilliantly this time».

Going up… or settling for a medal nobody wants to wear?

And here's the fear no director will mention in a press conference. Because this very season we've seen the two possible endings, live and in person, with two historic clubs like us.

The happy ending: pull a Depor. Deportivo fell all the way down to the depths of Primera RFEF, touched genuine rock bottom, rebuilt themselves from the rubble and this season have returned to the top flight eight years later. That's the beautiful path, the one we'd all sign up for blindfolded. And it's not a fairytale they tell the kids—it just happened, this very season.

And the bitter ending: pull a Zaragoza. Another historic club stuck in eternal Segunda, promising a First Division charge every summer… and this season, instead of going up, has gone straight down to Primera RFEF. Bottom of the league. Relegated to the third tier. And get this detail that really stings: with one of the most expensive season ticket prices in the entire category—prices that were right there above ours on the list. Charging top-flight prices to end up playing in the dirt.

We've spent so many siestas in Segunda that the alarm clock barely rings anymore.

Which path will we take? No idea. But after so many «this year for sure», you'll understand if I save my faith for when I see points on the table, not headlines in June.

So should I just give up on it all?

Nope. And that's the trap of supporting Sporting: no matter how much you burn, you come back. We all come back. Because deep down—and this stays between us—a part of me wants to believe it. Wants Larcamón to be right. Wants to see El Molinón on fire, promotion sealed and the whole board telling me «we told you so» with a little smirk. I swear I'd eat my words whole, with chips on the side.

But until then, let me keep my armour of irony. It's the one thing this fanbase still has as standard that they can't charge us for in the season ticket.

We're going up for certain. Larcamón's on his way. Whatever you say, mate. Let the ball roll and we'll talk when it does.

Market update: what about the talent up top?

Since we're talking about being bold, the name that really got me excited was Óscar Trejo. The Rayo magician, Argentine, 38 years old, a lifetime in the top flight and a familiar face around these parts (wore our red and white between 2011 and 2013). In May, El Partidazo de la COPE reported the deal practically done: Trejo to Sporting once he wrapped up with Rayo and the Conference League final. He was THE exciting signing, the guy who pulls magic out of nowhere.