In fact, he doesn’t sing. It’s 8:05 p.m. on Saturday, the sun still doesn’t want to leave and Benito has just burst onto the stage elevated by a platform. He remains silent for one, two minutes, delighting in the panorama, a packed Metropolitan stadium in Madrid with 64,000 people. The Puerto Rican turns his head slightly, gives a half smile and contemplates his work: people jumping, thousands of spectators shouting. And the music hasn’t started yet. Mobile phones record, mouths open. “This has started well, bastard,” describes a compatriot fan of the star to his companion, both standing in the stands wearing caps with the Puerto Rican flag. Benito wears an impeccable cream suit and sunglasses that are not completely tinted. Still not speaking. Then, he grabs the microphone and shouts: “A round of applause for mommy and daddy…” An extensive band of brass, maracas or percussion, all in uniform, drives scorching salsa rhythms and, now, the protagonist begins to sing. The move with a voice full of promises: “No one takes me out of here, I don’t move from here. / Tell him that this is my house, where my grandfather was born.” A warning that is unnecessary today, here and now: no one wants to “be removed” from this stadium in the next two hours and 50 minutes, all the people did what Benito wanted.
