Many have tried interpreting Tuchel. Some cited existing philosophical works such as Bordiga, Hegel and Plato. The former saw Tuchel as the progenitor of a spontaneous revolution, his football being so boring it had deep ideological significance. They viewed his football as the cry of discontentedness with the neoliberal consensus, and a legitimate philosophical work in it’s own right. The modern Hegelians saw Tuchel-ball as the dialectical synthesis between two states of being, that of anguish and that of ennui. Those using the works of Plato are conflicted on whether to see Tuchel-ball as a concrete object, real and tangible, while all consider the feelings the games elicit to be abstract. Others saw it as post-modern performance art and tried to categorise it as the intended catalyst of a yet to materialise Neo-Fluxus movement. Alas, others even ascribed it a theological value, arguing for the canonisation of Tuchel and compared our pain watching to the pain our lord felt on the cross. A contingent of these worshippers split recently and alleged Tuchel was inherently heretical, no mortal man had ever suffered like Jesus did until he watched the Argentina or Spain game. The truth is, Tuchel-ball defies what the human mind is capable of interpreting. We can only bask in its majesty.