If you took a cross section of Futbol Club Barcelona, and then analysed the goopy interior under a microscope, you would see an ant pile of minuscule Carles Puyols running about, blocking shots, passing out from the back and shouting. Of this, I am certain.
If I can get to the core of what he represents to me, I’d say he is beyond what we recognise as ‘image’. He exists outside of the branding construct that professional athletes now exist within. He is a bridge between the Tony Adams generation and the Neymar generation, having the modern dedication to training and lifestyle that maximised his effectiveness but crucially he was formed as a pro before it was expected that all players were media companies. His character was off stage, inaccessible to us the viewing public and this type of distance creates and enhances mystique. The myth of the player can ferment and become more in this type of void, more is left to the imagination; a type of burlesque approach to reputational construction.
With anything that stays in the mind there’s always one odd element, the ingredient that allows for memorability. With Puyol, it’s this frizzy scribble of brown hair, obscuring his eyes and adding a stark ‘anti-footballer’ vibe to what was a modern super-club captain. I’ve read that he listened to death metal on headphones in the changing room before matches. Match the hair with the musical taste and it’s like the Barca scouting department waded into a mosh pit at a Slayer concert, picked some guy at random and he just turned out to be their best ever captain. That’s why he’s memorable.
You can watch a 30 second time-lapse of this artwork being created here.