This man looks like a cigarette. Magico Gonzalez, mythical Salvadoran star for Cadiz in the 80s, has such an awesome weathered look, especially for an athlete. It's always great to see a sportsperson who clearly doesn't take care of themselves. You know that Magico is sipping Old Crow in some fake wood-paneled dive on the archipelago, face inches away from the bar in a lean while his teammates doze at home. He's got dirt and flecks of paint in his hair and beneath his fingernails. I'd imagine he'd like to put "When I Paint My Masterpiece" by the Band on the jukebox and become wistful at the string and saw of Arcadia. He'll shuffle out after being told by the barman that he may not fall asleep in his stool and when he wakes up on the couch, joints stiff and befuddled, his mouth will taste of vomit. In the previous century this picture would appear on Wanted posters, not bedroom walls. Seeing this faded outlaw makes me want to support Cadiz CF, now in Spain's third tier, and also hang with extremely weathered cult heroes from the 1980s who weren't in hair bands. I definitely want to buy the shirt.