Torres (5 page)

The conversation takes place in June, 1995, in the Ernesto Cotorruelo sports facility in the Carabanchel district of Madrid. The protagonists: Manolo Briñas and Manolo Rangel. One is the deputy director of Atlético Madrid football school and the other is one of its coaches.

The two find themselves, one summer morning, on three hard, bare playing surfaces, lost in the middle of a huge boulevard full of cars and in front of a row of sad-looking buildings. They have to select some youngsters to form part of the junior team, which will take part that August in an international tournament at Bierbeek, in the Brabant province of Belgium, a few miles from Leuven. Briñas holds the notebook, Rangel gives the points. He gives a score for each of the would-be footballers from one to ten but when that freckled one with the blond hair appears in front of them, the guidelines disappear.

‘After five minutes,’ recalls Antonio Seseña, today aged 66 and retired but then director of the Atlético Madrid junior players, ‘we told him, ‘Go and get dressed, lad.’ He looked surprised, he wanted to keep on playing, he thought he was no good, that he’d failed. He asked me, ‘Am I doing something wrong?’ On the contrary, he had completely won
us over. We saw an intelligent lad, who moved well on the pitch, had pace and good technique as well, qualities which, at that age, really stand out.’

‘Yes, Fernando Torres at eleven was a very smart kid – fast, able to lose his marker and beat his opponent. Without having participated too much in the action, I realised that he was doing everything fantastically well. And above all, he seemed to me like a kid who wanted to be a footballer,’ explains Manolo Rangel, aged 55, who worked with the Atlético junior teams for twelve years.

In that June of 1995, Fernando had already passed the first selection test to enter the ranks of Atlético. Like lots of other kids of his age, he had gone to the Vicente Calderón stadium, filled in the registration forms, and had been invited – along with 200 others – to go to the ground in the Tres Cruces park between Aluche and Carabanchel. An 11-a-side match to sort out what each of them was able to do, then after that another 22 kids and so on. ‘Victor Peligros, Antonio Arganda and I were there that day,’ recalls Briñas in his office at the Calderón. Behind him, and framed in a glass-fronted case, is one of Fernando’s shirts. It’s the one he was wearing on 23 February 2008, when he got a hattrick at Middlesborough. Alongside is a photo of an ecstatic El Niño, having just scored a goal for the Reds, and on it is written in felt-tip pen: ‘For my great friend, Manolo Briñas, a heartfelt embrace in return for all the affection that you have shown and continue to show for me, Fernando Torres.’ On re-reading this dedication, 77-year-old Briñas is visibly moved and points to the walls covered with cuttings describing Fernando and all the other youngsters from the Atlético junior teams who have ended up in the top division. The only exception is the Uraguayan Diego Forlán (formerly of Villarreal and Manchester United), whose impressive tally of 32 league goals last season was a huge factor in taking
Atlético into the Champions League for the second year running, as well as earning him the Spanish
Pichichi
trophy and the European Golden Boot for the player with the highest number of league goals in Spain and Europe respectively.

After this diversion, the veteran coach continues with the story of that team in the Tres Cruces park: ‘From those 200 youngsters, we had to choose 40. If I remember rightly, Fernando scored four goals but the coaches didn’t choose him for that. Apart from the goals, he was marked positively for his involvement in the game and for his unselfish attitude.’

In the official test notes for that day, in strict alphabetical order, one can read, alongside the name Fernando José Torres Sanz: ‘Suitable (to be seen in our teams). He will be sent instructions.’ To be more precise, he would go to the Cotorruelo ground, where Manolo Rangel, some time later, would give him the mark of eleven.

But why did Fernando end up taking his chances with Atlético and not Real Madrid, the city’s ‘first’ team? It was all down to Eulalio Sanz, Fernando’s maternal grandfather.

By way of a short preamble, the Torres family was not very football-oriented. It was not one of those Spanish families glued to the radio listening to live match commentaries, nor was it one of those where, when there was a big match, all the relatives and friends joined together to experience the event on television. The passion for football and particular clubs in the Torres household was pretty lukewarm. There was certainly a fondness for Deportivo La Coruña because of the father’s family origins. But nothing special. The real fan was his grandfather. A lifelong
rojiblanco
(supporter of Atlético Madrid).

In the sitting room of Elulalio and Paz in Valdeavero, there was an impressive-looking ceramic plate with the
Atlético badge. It was an object that fascinated Fernando. He could remember it from when he was two or three years old. At that time he knew nothing about football matches or clubs, but his grandfather – thanks to that plate – began his ‘sentimental education’. Each time the small Torres went to look at it, he repeated to him: ‘When you’re grown-up, you must be with Atlético.’ And with the passing of the years, he began to explain the club’s ideals and values. He began to explain that Real Madrid was everyone’s team, the one that always won, while Atléti was the other side of the coin, where defeats had to be suffered and where being a fan required real effort.

The seed of support took hold and grew. When he was nine, Fernando’s father took him to the Vicente Calderón museum, where they keep the trophies, cups, old photographs, footballs, badges and pennants – a trip that left the youngster in awe. Some years later it will be Manolo Briñas who explains to Fernando, one-to-one, the symbols and the 106-year-old history of a club founded in April 1903, which boasts nine league titles, and which, historically, comes to be considered Spain’s third-best team in terms of trophies and supporters, behind Real Madrid and Barcelona. So when Fernando qualifies to join Atlético, he’s hardly got home and in through the door before he’s on the phone to his grandfather to tell him the great news. A grandfather who will have the greatest satisfaction, before his death on 23 February 2003, to see Fernando in the shirt of his beloved team, playing in the Vicente Calderón.

But going back to the summer of 1995 and to the first impressions of Briñas, the person who began to train him:

‘Fernando was an open, amusing, happy and very responsible lad who gave everything. He wasn’t the typical joker who took his attitude into the matches. He already had his head well screwed-on. And all that was due to his
parents, who told him, “enjoy yourself at football but study”. And he followed that to the letter. I remember once, when I went to meet him at Atocha station, he was coming back from winning a tournament. He got off the train, he had a copy of
Marca
in his hand, where it was talking about him. I thought that he would want to show it to me but no – under the newspaper he had his end-of-term reports. He proudly showed them to me, “Look Manolo, I’ve passed in all subjects. And I’ve got quite a few top grades.” Yes, very often parents think they have a Maradona, they think their son can score the second goal before the first but life isn’t like that. To get there, you have to make sacrifices, not leave school and move forward bit-by-bit.’

And to explain how Torres was, he remembers the away match in Belgium: ‘At dinner, in the hotel, they served a vegetable soup and lots of the lads put their plates to one side without touching it, saying they found it nauseating, so much so that Rangel shouted ‘You don’t play if you haven’t eaten everything.’ It wasn’t necessary to say it to Fernando. He ate anything.’

Bierbeek – the first away match, the first foreign trip, the hotel, the team-mates, the first team base, the first international tournament. A lot of excitement for Fernando in those days of August 1995. Around 30 different teams are taking part in the tournament, including Ajax, Anderlecht, Werder Bremen and Bayern Munich – clubs that boast a long tradition of bringing through new talent. Atlético, on the other hand, has only just set up its junior teams. Manolo Rangel is worried about making a bad impression because his lads don’t know each other well. They haven’t even had time to train together. So, in-between matches, he gives them sessions with the ball and while walking round the hotel grounds, tries to explain how they should position themselves on the pitch.

During one of these sessions, he realises that ‘one of them, I think it was Fernando, had kicked a stone and unfortunately it broke a window in someone’s house. The owner came out shouting and protesting, with us not being able to understand what he was saying. We went through some difficult moments before someone from the organisation came and sorted things out.’ A stone that stayed in the memories of the coach and the youngsters. And it may actually have helped to unite the team because, in spite of the improvisation, they finish in sixth place. ‘Fernando stood out quite well and there were a lot of positive comments about him,’ adds Rangel.

It was then 1995–96, the first season in the red-and-white shirt. An important season for the club, which won a league and cup (Copa del Rey) double for the first time in its history. It broke the dominance of Real Madrid and Barcelona. A success for the team managed by Radomir Antic, whose leading players included Kiko, Pantic, Caminero and Simeone. A double that reinforced the emotional ties between Torres and Atléti. And the pride of wearing the shirt of the Spanish champions.

Fernando was doing his part in the junior divisions. He gets 67 goals and is top-scorer, the sporting leader of the team and the focal point of the group. His skills are showcased in the
Torneo de Brunete
(the Brunete Tournament), a competition in which about twenty junior teams from clubs in the Spanish first division take part and where many young Spanish champions make their early mark. The youngster is fascinated by the atmosphere, the terraces at the Estadio Los Arcos, the television cameras filming the matches, the fans and the watchful eye of the observers and trainers at the games. He scores a succession of quick-fire goals, one after the other, and runs to tell his grandfather.

The following year, the shots of him used by regional television channel,
Telemadrid
, always show him at Brunete on the pitch against Milan, tall and thin, with his blond bob haircut and the Number 9 on his back. Fernando puts away penalties that the keeper can’t get hold of, dribbles past opponents even with a backheel and scores to make it 3-0 and then 4-0 in a perfect counter-attacking move going round the onrushing keeper.

‘Fernando was a born winner. He also wanted to win in training. I was 39, I had to quit playing football but I was in good enough condition to run with them,’ remembers Rangel, ‘I enjoyed making bets with him regarding a game, penalties, or who would score the most goals from a free-kick. And Fernando was really competitive. At the end of training, he would be waiting with his sports bag to inform me, ‘Coach, you owe me a Coca-Cola for what I’ve won from you.’ He was very bright, very smart.’

And Rangel is keen to stress, like Briñas, the importance of grandfather Torres Sanz: ‘A fantastic family, very close and well-balanced, which helped him enormously to be a footballer.’ His parents, José and Flori, his brother Israel and Mari Paz, his sister, help him in every way. On many occasions, his father has to get permission from work to take him from Fuenlabrada to Orcasitas, where he trains. His mother waits for him in front of the school gates in the wind and the rain, goes with him on the bus or on the train to the ground, and waits for the training to end to bring him back home. And without ever insisting or demanding that he become a professional. On the contrary, she tells him many times that ‘if you are tired or you don’t want to play, tell me and we won’t go again’. His brother and sister also assume their responsibilities for the 15-kilometre (about 10 miles) daily trip. They have to study and do their homework sitting on the terraces at the ground. Years divided between
school and training, with matches at the weekend. The best thing is when Fernando joins Atlético’s residential Colegio Amanecer school, just outside the centre of Madrid where, today, around 30 youngsters between the ages of fifteen and eighteen study up to the Spanish equivalent of A-levels. ‘Fernando was a student who knew how to combine books with the ball,’ recalls school coordinator Rafael Bravo. ‘His parents wrote us a very emotive letter when Fernando got his
Bachillerato
(equivalent to A-levels).’

A good student and an excellent footballer, so much so that he regularly ends up being the youngest in each of his Atlético junior teams. He plays with youngsters who are one, two or even three years older than him. It is a way of growing up more quickly and a way of learning more rapidly the rules of football because the older ones are stronger technically and physically and better-prepared mentally. Fernando works his way up through the junior ranks. Manolo Rangel is his teacher for three seasons.

Then it is Pedro Calvo’s turn to take charge of him for a year. Fernando is fourteen. How was he? ‘His manner and professionalism were the same as they are now,’ explains 40-year-old Calvo, enjoying a cafe
latte
in a central Madrid bar. ‘He was already the team captain but the responsibilities didn’t weigh him down. You would tell him that we eat at two o’clock and that everyone should come properly turned out. And ten minutes before time, he would be there with his team-mates, all properly dressed. He was always thinking about the group. He was very humble and he didn’t like too much praise. He didn’t get nervous, a normal thing at that age. He didn’t get angry. I remember that once I blamed him for the behaviour of the team and, instead of giving me a dirty look, he thought the problem over and it never went further than the dressing room. In a footballing sense he
was the same as now: rapid, sharp, skilled, very calm in front of goal and, above all, a sponge – he liked to learn.’