Aritz Aduriz’s bicycle kick goal reminded us that the world is full of wonder

Aritz Aduriz shook us from our boredom and reminded us to never take a moment for granted.

Time marches on forever at a steady pace, but whenever something spectacular is about to happen, the perception of time seems to slow down just a bit. There’s an eerie calmness, a stillness as if the environment is holding its breath. This phenomenon is well-documented in moments of extreme danger, but that feeling of mortal peril isn’t necessary.

Just as the build-up to a car crash feels like it moves in slow motion, so did the build-up to Aritz Aduriz’s bicycle kick goal to beat Barcelona in the 88th minute.

Before Aduriz was substituted in and gave Athletic Bilbao the win, Ray Hudson, the beIN Sports commentator, regretfully admitted that Barcelona were boring to watch. Barcelona had hogged possession throughout the match but couldn’t create chances. Even more damning, their play was full of pointless passing, careless turnovers, and a lack of urgency.

Part of the reason why Barcelona had a dull day is that Athletic Bilbao are hard to play against, and has historically flustered Barcelona. The other reason is the charge often levied against Ernesto Valverde: the manager’s style is boring. He has been accused of forcing Barcelona’s wondrous talents to play with less ambition, valuing practicality to the detriment of maximizing and elevating his players’ capabilities.

In the context of Aduriz’s goal then, Valverde should be thanked. The blandness of his style set the perfect stage for Aduriz’s spectacular goal.

It’s crude to say that soccer is like life, but it exists within the world, and thus shares some characteristics with life. Or rather, the experience of both can be similar. One major similarity is that it’s easy be passive to the wonder of both.

In every soccer game, as in everyday life, we are witness to incredible things, but because we’ve seen these incredible things so often, they feel ordinary.

Every insect we step over is a life and world in itself, and if we took the time to pay attention to even the smallest creature, learned its history and particular qualities, we would be as amazed as we are when we see a picture of the cosmos. In the same way, every crossfield pass is a work of art made by the manipulation of the human body and laws of physics, and the only reason we’re not excited for each one is that we expect them to happen at the professional level.

This diminution of the world’s wonders is understandable to a point. That we are unimpressed by truly miraculous things seems tragic, but if not for the ability to become acclimated to the expected elements around us, we would be overwhelmed by the gravity of everything. In order to be able to do anything at all, we need to be able to look over so much of what we experience.

That boredom creates opportunities for us to be shaken awake by the sensational things that are so far out of routine that they seem magical.

When Aduriz came on for Inaki Williams in the 87th minute, the match had become background noise. Those 87 minutes had felt like three hours. I started paying attention again when Hudson mentioned that this campaign would be Aduriz’s last, and marveled at the fact that Aduriz has had his best years past the age of 30, when twilight sets in for most other players.

I didn’t expect Aduriz to do anything incredible, but his being on the field made me more open to the chance that something could happen.

Then in the 88th minute, less than a full minute from Aduriz’s introduction, a lofted cross by Ander Capa from the right wing went over the heads of three Barcelona defenders in the box who watched the ball sail past them with eyes and mouths open. Time lingered. The ball seemed to hang in the air for so long.

Aduriz, who was in the middle of the box and had moved to make a run to the near post, instead turned away from goal, jumped to make his body horizontal in the air, and struck the ball so perfectly with his right foot that Marc-André ter Stegen could only dive in vain in an attempt to keep the ball out of the right corner of the net.

The goal was an indictment of our boredom with the world, and a reminder that its wonders are endless if we’re open to looking.