Well, the big day is over for this year, but there are still some residual Christmas stories. Here is one that I was reading, a perfectly normal Christmas sports feature — new house, young superstar, proud little brother — when the sentence took a hard left turn into folklore madness.
Lamine Yamal, freshly 18, global football prodigy, owner of Gerard Piqué’s former house (yes, that one, the Shakira one), casually reveals his favorite household item is a statuette of… himself… squatting… mid-defecation.
Displayed.
On a shelf.
Under a trophy.
Right on cue.
At this point, you probably have questions. Sensible ones.
Why does this exist?
Why is it a gift?
Why is it considered festive?
Why is the three-year-old obsessed with it?
And maybe the most unsettling question of all — why is this the object on display, while luxury designer items sit unopened in boxes like forgotten luggage?
The Caganer: Holiday Cheer, Pants Down
This is where the Catalan Christmas tradition steps in and refuses to apologize.
The caganer — literally “the pooper” — is a standard element of Catalan nativity scenes. You’ve got the Holy Family, shepherds, animals… and then, tucked off to the side, a man squatting behind a bush, doing his business with total commitment.
He isn’t hiding out of shame.
He’s hidden for sport.
Finding the caganer is part of the ritual. Leave it out, and folklore says you risk bad luck in the coming year. Apparently, blessings require fertilizer.
The traditional figure is a Catalan peasant wearing a red barretina hat, trousers pooled at the ankles, expression somewhere between focus and relief. It’s meant to symbolize joy, humor, and the stubbornly human need to remain human — even in sacred scenes.
Divinity, meet digestion.
Celebrity Status, Squatting Edition
Since the 1990s, the caganer has gone celebrity. Politicians. Pop stars. World leaders. And inevitably, footballers.
As FC Barcelona rose through its modern golden eras — Ronaldinho, Guardiola, then the Messi years — the market followed. Because success in Catalonia eventually leads to one place: a ceramic crouch.
Lionel Messi remains one of the best-sellers of all time. Some years, Donald Trump outsells him, which feels like information you didn’t ask for but now have forever.
Today’s generation is fully represented. Yamal. Pedri. Cubarsí. Fermín López. If you came up through La Masia, this isn’t mockery — it’s inclusion.
Not everyone gets one.
Not just anyone earns one.
Everyone looks ridiculous in it.
The Shelf Placement Is the Point
What makes Yamal’s caganer perfect isn’t that it exists. It’s where it lives.
Front and center.
Below the silverware.
Above unopened luxury nonsense.
It’s not tucked away like a joke gift you pretend to love. It’s in the pride of place. His little brother demands it every visit. Wears it out. Treats it like a prized possession.
Meanwhile, expensive clothes — curated, branded, aspirational — sit untouched in boxes.
Roots over reach.
Tradition over flex.
Ceramic squat over couture.
And If You Think That’s the Weird Part…
Catalonia also celebrates Christmas by feeding a smiling log orange peels throughout December, then beating it with sticks on Christmas Eve until it “poos” presents from under a blanket.
This is real.
It’s called cagar el tió.
Children sing while it happens.
Compared to that, a footballer owning a statuette of himself mid-dump starts to feel restrained. Almost minimalist.
Some cultures do reverence.
Some do spectacle.
Catalonia does a squat behind the manger and calls it luck.
Some traditions don’t ask to be understood.