In Füssen, a small town in the south of Germany, a young Tan Uygur rose every Monday at six in the morning in the nineties. He ran to turn on the TV and tuned Eurosport to see the summaries of the big leagues. On that screen he discovered a striker who did not stand out because of his height or his physique, but who had a virtue enough to conquer him: he always found the way to the goal. It was Carlos Muñoz. Thirty years later, that admiration r…
This story is only covered by news sources that have yet to be evaluated by the independent media monitoring agencies we use to assess the quality and reliability of news outlets on our platform. Learn more here.
In Füssen, a small town in the south of Germany, a young Tan Uygur rose every Monday at six in the morning in the nineties. He ran to turn on the TV and tuned Eurosport to see the summaries of the big leagues. On that screen he discovered a striker who did not stand out because of his height or his physique, but who had a virtue enough to conquer him: he always found the way to the goal. It was Carlos Muñoz. Thirty years later, that admiration r…