If there’s one Achilles’ heel in my longstanding boast of being more Romanian than you, it’s the fact that I don’t really give a shit about football (⚽).
Don’t get me wrong – it’s a really fun and healthy activity for people of all ages and genders, and I’ve enjoyed playing it myself. But I just don’t find watching other people do things all that exciting, and that includes playing sports.
Normally, this lack of enthusiasm for spectator sports doesn’t affect my life very much at all, but a few weeks ago, the local football team (Sheriff Tiraspol) qualified for a playoff series known as the “UEFA Champions League.”
As such, a lot of international attention was drawn to Tiraspol, along with the requisite bullshit “journalism” about how the club is owned by the KGB and other nonsense.
Due to the complex rules (which I freely admit that I do not understand) of this championship playoff series, the Sheriff Tiraspol team had a home game this past Wednesday against a team from Spain known as “Real Madrid.”
When the game was announced, the local media was quite excited, and the reports that I heard were that the game was going to be completely sold out. I’ve been to the Sheriff stadium once (not during a match), and it’s quite huge, perhaps too big. I don’t think that there has ever been a completely sold-out event in its history.
For a brief moment, my wife and I debated whether or not we might want to go to this historic game. On the plus side, it would be cool to see some Spanish fans and to see the stadium rocking with a lot of very enthusiastic spectators (including many from across the border in Moldova).
But on the minus side, the game started at 10:00 pm on a work night, and it’s getting pretty cold here in Tiraspol, and neither my wife nor I are all that enthusiastic about watching sports. So, in the end, we decided not to go.
For the record, Sheriff lost the game 3-0.
Sheriff’s Traore was born in Mali (🇲🇱) in West Africa. Without trying to offend anyone, I think it’s fair to say that he has quite dark skin, certainly far darker than most of the folks here in Tiraspol. As such, he isn’t exactly easy to miss when you see him walking down the street.
I never met young Mr. Traore (he just turned 26), but I certainly saw him quite often. During the first year of the Great Panic, there weren’t any games to play, and the borders were closed, so he (and the rest of the team) spent a lot of time jogging and doing other kinds of group workouts on the streets of downtown Tiraspol.
Later, when things started to open up a bit, I saw Mr. Traore enjoying more casual things with his friends, including dining at restaurants, zooming around on rented (electric) scooters, and laughing and talking in rapid-fire French with one of his French-speaking teammates.
Until a few months ago, I was living in an apartment with a balcony overlooking the main street in downtown Tiraspol, and one time, he was (quite literally) standing directly beneath my balcony while doing something on his phone. I remember looking down and seeing him scroll through social media and feeling very odd about it, but it was just a brief moment in time.
My impression of him was a) that being stuck in Tiraspol that first year of the Panic was pretty boring and b) he was a very high-spirited, active, and energetic young man in the prime of his life.
I don’t have the foggiest idea of how good of a football player he is, but he certainly was in excellent shape. Even when he was just walking along with his friends, he was always smiling and talking and moving at a rapid clip.
All quite normal for a professional athlete in the prime of his life.
At close to midnight on Wednesday night, in the course of a rather boring and uninteresting play (the ball scooted out of bounds), young Mr. Traore clutched his heart and then collapsed onto the grass.
It’s impossible to know exactly what happened, but the medics rushed out there and had to give him smelling salts to revive him, so it’s obvious that he lost consciousness.
Prior to that, he had not been in any collisions or clashes with another player. Before he collapsed, he had just been standing there in an ordinary way as the ball rolled out of bounds and one of the Real Madrid players went to go get it.
A few minutes later, Mr. Traore could be seen sitting up on the sidelines, so he definitely regained consciousness, and then he was able to walk back to the locker room.
After that, nobody knows what happened to him.
I’ve scoured the local news (and Sheriff Tiraspol’s official website) and there’s not a single word about his condition, which I find highly unusual. This is one of Sheriff’s starting players, after all, on the best team they’ve ever fielded.
I even forced myself to watch the anodyne post-match press conference (🇷🇺) on YouTube. Aside from the comic inability of the local translator to speak Spanish, the press conference is noteworthy for the lack of any word about Traore’s condition, something at least one commentator noticed:
Certainly, none of the local (Russian-language) media showed Traore’s collapse. The only video I could find of it was from one of the Spanish-language broadcasters covering the match:
In England, the live coverage of the game on the talkSPORT channel was immediately cut off when Trevor Sinclair asked if Traore’s collapse might be related to his vaccination status.
How Many Will It Take?
At some point, even the most dedicated members of the Vaccine Cult are going to have to wake up and realize that everything that they believe is a lie. I know that may seem highly unlikely now, but keep in mind that even after 20 or 30 years in cults like Scientology, people do eventually wake up to the truth.
Do I know for a fact that Traore was injured by a vaccine? No, I don’t. I’m not even sure if he was vaccinated as it does not seem to be required for players in the UEFA league, and Sheriff Tiraspol has never published any information about the vaccination status of its team members.
What I do know is that there is a long, long list of extremely fit athletes dying or becoming seriously injured this year after getting “vaccinated” with mRNA poison. That includes Sergio Aguera of the Barcelona team whose season ended after he, too, collapsed with a heart problem in the middle of a game.
I also know that the majority of vaccines being offered in Tiraspol are of the mRNA variety, even though a lot of people here prefer the Chinese and Russian ones.
Again, I’m definitely not a well-educated sports fan, but a tiny bit of research shows that healthy young men and women did not collapse and die in the middle of games very often before 2021. In fact, on the rare occasion when it did happen (Fabrice Muamba in 2012, etc), it was an earth-shattering event.
Wikipedia has a rather grim article on football players who died “while playing,” including bizarre incidents such as a players being struck by lightning while training, a player who died from head trauma after crashing his head against another player, at least two players who were beaten up by fans of the opposite team, and one poor bastard of a player in Romania (Cristian Neamtu) who died in 2002 after his teammate’s jaw somehow caused internal bleeding that killed him several days later.
Looking through those entries, there are definitely several entries about players who suffered heart attacks long before mRNA “vaccines” were invented. In some cases, heat was clearly a contributing factor, but not always.
So yes, it is certainly possible that Mr. Traore had an “ordinary” heart attack that had absolutely nothing to do with being injected with poison. Or maybe some other medical condition afflicted him that caused him to collapse unconscious for no apparent reason.
But here’s the thing – in the past, whenever an athlete suddenly collapsed or suffered a major medical issue, the teams always quickly announced what happened. Furthermore, in these modern days of social media, the players often also post information about their condition for their fans and well-wishers.
Adama Traore has an Instagram account, and there’s been no posting there since before the match against Real Madrid. There’s also no smiling pictures of Traore in the hospital posted on Tiraspol Sheriff’s Instagram either.
For all I know, the poor guy is dead. I certainly hope not. But I have a sinking feeling that his football career is now over, forever.
What a fucking waste…