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  In the second move, a long cross from Iván Amaya comes into the area from left to right. Fernando pretends to go one way, then the other, gains ground on the central defenders and gets behind them. It seems the cross will end up being too long, but the youngster moves rapidly without taking his eyes off the ball falling out of the sky. He stretches out his neck, hitting the ball decisively, accurately and powerfully, directing it towards the opposite post. He fears that it’s hit the post and gone out of play. But no, it rebounds into the net. The keeper looks at his defence with disgust while Fernando runs towards the goal line and, beside himself with joy, embraces Aguilera and Hernández – men almost twice his age. It is his first goal at national club level and a happy ending of the fairy tale for him and the team, which, with those three points, can continue to dream of promotion. The referee blows his whistle to end the encounter and El Niño succeeds in getting his hands on the ball that marked his first goal. He wants to keep it as a souvenir of his fledgling career. But then he changes his mind and kicks it hard and high towards the south end, where the Atléti fans are concentrated.

  Meanwhile, on the pitch, around twenty journalists are following him, microphones at the ready, to interview him and hear his first impressions. Hernández and the others lift him up and take him to the dressing room.

  After the shower and celebrations, there is time for comments, thanks and dedications. ‘Very emotional. I feel very emotional,’ is the first thing he says. Then he explains: ‘It was what all my family were waiting for, it’s what I wanted, to score such an important goal as this for Atlético to return to its natural home, which is La Primera División (the first division). We’re a little nearer thanks to this victory. I dedicate it to all the members of the Frente Atlético (the group of fans with whom Fernando usually watches the matches in the Calderón. He also gave them the match shirt) who have come here to cheer us on. They are fantastic and it’s worth battling on in order to get them the promotion.’ He also has words of thanks for his team-mates: ‘They’ve helped me so much and have accepted me into the squad. Without them, the goal would not have been possible.’ He’s in Seventh Heaven and you can understand why. But he wasn’t the only one jumping with joy. Paolo Futre declares: ‘Torres is a star player, a phenomenon who will bring a lot of joy to the fans of Atlético and will be fundamental to the future of Spanish football.’ And Cantarero adds: ‘Fernando is going to be this week’s leading figure. He deserves it and let’s hope he’s going to be the leading figure for the next few years.’

  There is no mistaking the following day’s headlines, all of them about him: ‘A Magical Apparition in Albacete,’ said El Mundo, while El País screams: ‘Fernando Torres Saves Atlético.’ The TV channels call him into the studio to comment on his goal, to talk about himself, the two remaining matches of the league season and the chances for his team. From that Sunday on, little-by-little his life changes. From Albacete he gets to Fuenlabrada around two in the morning and, as his parents remember, ‘he went into his room and about five minutes later he was sleeping. But the morning after and for the following two days, his usual wolf-like hunger at breakfast disappears. His stomach shrinks due to the effects of all the emotion and his new-found fame. But the youngster gets over it easily enough.

  What’s nothing like as easy to get over is the huge disappointment at Getafe two weeks later. In the Coliseo Alfonso Pérez (Getafe’s stadium, to the south of Madrid city centre), Fernando starts in the team for the first time and is the principal figure for the first 45 minutes. He has only matches behind him but he shows a maturity and coolness that some of his team-mates, with much more experience than him, do not display on this occasion. In spite of the numerous errors in front of Atlético’s goal, they chalk up a 1-0 victory but at the end of the match, there aren’t the celebrations many were hoping for. Everyone is quiet on the pitch, in the dugout and in the stands. The news from the radio has already reached the players, technical staff and the 10,000 Atléti supporters that Betis and Tenerife have won, which means Atlético will remain in the second division solely because of an inferior goal difference with the Canary Island team. The fans slowly slip away with heads bowed. Some vent their anger against the stadium, ripping out seats and throwing them towards the pitch. The police escort Jesús Gil and his wife out of the ground. Around 50 of the radical ultra fans call for heads to roll, shouting: ‘Gil, you bastard, get out of the Calderón!’ Paolo Futre kicks the wall and throws his ever-present cigarette into the far distance, muttering: ‘It’s been a huge disappointment but this pain is over. We’ve lost the battle.’ Cantarero declares: ‘We’re distraught. I’ve seen a lot of sad things in football but this has been the worst.’ The players depart in silence. It’s a big blow for everyone. And for Fernando Torres in particular. He’s shattered. He just wants things to move on as quickly as possible. He just wants to forget. He is experiencing the disappointment more as a fan than as a player. And it’s massive. What had been a dream has now turned into a nightmare. That night he takes refuge in his room in Fuenlabrada but this time he can’t sleep. He is inconsolable because of all the missed opportunities and the promotion that has now disappeared. The next year Atlético will have to start all over again in the second division. But first, Fernando still has to resolve, once-and-for-all, the strange matter of his phantom transfer.

  It hits the headlines on 11 May. ‘We were coming back in the coach from Sevilla where we had lost the final of the Copa del Rey (King’s Cup). It was night-time and we were about 7 miles from Madrid. Someone was listening to the radio when suddenly one of the sports programmes on the Cadena Ser station announced that Valencia had signed Fernando. He knew absolutely nothing about it. No one knew anything about it. It seemed very strange to us given that Jesús Gil had been in the dressing room with the lads before the game and, as always, had sung along with us ‘Atlético 1-2-3 Go get ’em.’ It seemed impossible that they would have sold El Niño but the news spread like wildfire and when we eventually arrived at the Calderón there were loads of media there, all waiting for Fernando but he had got off outside Madrid at the Hotel Los Olivos. Recalling how it all started is Miguel Ángel Gómez Gonzalez, aged 45 and known to everyone as ‘Cirilo’.

  At that time he was the Atlético kit man and had followed Torres’ progress step-by-step through the junior ranks. The news on Cadena Ser is like a bomb going off. It turns out that on 15 March 2001, the Madrid club had received 400 million pesetas (about £2 million), which, including VAT, became 464 million, from Valencia Football Club to deal with a liquidity problem – and the Atlético directors had put up the rights of their ‘golden boy’ as guarantee. If they didn’t pay the debt within the time stipulated (by 25 June), then Fernando Torres would become a Valencia player on 1 July. It was an operation that provoked a huge row, stirred up the anger of the fans and ended up being the subject of a legal investigation. Miguel Ángel Gil, director general of Atlético Madrid, maintained that it was ‘a usual thing between clubs, to use players’ transfers to disguise loans’. The professional league said that it had never seen anything like it before. Torres denied having signed a contract which obliged him to leave and denied absolutely having any preferred option for that club. His representatives talked of compensation of 2,600 million pesetas (about £13 million) if Atlético did not pay up and Torres was forced to leave for Valencia. It wasn’t the case. The debt was paid off. El Niño’s adventure in Atlético Madrid continued.

  Chapter 12

  Yogurt

  Conversation with former Atlético de Madrid striker, Francisco Miguel Narváez Machón, better known as ‘Kiko’

  A baseball cap above his black curly hair, wearing a leather jacket, coloured jersey and a weary look is how Kiko appears in the hotel bar at Madrid’s Ciudad de la Imagen. He has just emerged, battle-scarred and breathless, from a game of indoor football, during which he has scored the equaliser, but which has left him completely drained. In little more than an hour, he will be on television c
ommentating for the Spanish channel, Sexta, on the Copa del Rey (King’s Cup) tie between Atlético Bilbao and Sevilla (Seville).

  Born in Jerez de la Frontera, Andalusia and now aged 37, Kiko has a long career behind him. After three years in the Cadiz team and a gold medal with the Spanish national side at the 1992 Barcelona Olympics, he became the figurehead player at Atlético Madrid. Chalking up eight seasons (from 1993 to 2001), 278 appearances and 64 goals, he played a key role in the squad, which, with the Serbian ex-Luton Town (1980–84) player Radomir Antic as manager, captured a league and cup double in the 1995–96 season – the last silverware won by the club.

  Tall (1.89m/6ft 2ins) and rangy, he was in a class of his own, a striker but not in the classic sense of the word. He played behind the main striker, combining great imagination and vision with decisive assists and scoring many goals of his own. He was Fernando Torres’ hero.

  Kiko takes a long drink of water to rehydrate himself before recalling the end of May 2001 – the debut of El Niño.

  ‘The team was in the Second Division and the situation wasn’t good. Results were mixed and we weren’t playing well. To sum it up, we had a lot of problems. At the beginning of the season, we’d been hovering above the relegation zone and getting promotion was looking unlikely. To raise the fans’ hopes, they decided to give a debut to El Niño, a true atlético, someone with whom the fans could identify. It was a marketing exercise, something which would divert the public’s attention from the day-to-day happenings at the club.’

  And how did the dressing room view him?

  ‘We thought we’d have to have some kind of arrangement with a children’s nursery. What was a kid of seventeen doing in a team of experienced professionals? And above all, we were suddenly being asked to look after this youngster when we were right in the middle of our final, crucial matches. I remember the first day he introduced himself to me in the dressing room. He was thin, freckled, with an extremely slight build and very shy. As he went to shake my hand, he was very emotional. I was the team captain and his idol.’

  Why was that?

  ‘I was tall, like him and, like him a forward, although Fernando is more powerful and more direct. I played in a different style. I’d won the Cup and League title just when a young boy begins to idolise footballers and to admire a player who plays in his position. I was a committed atlético, like him. It’s normal if you come from the junior team to have someone as an example, a role model. Raúl in (Real) Madrid had El Buitre (Emilio Butragueño, a goal-scorer for Real Madrid during the 1980s), Fernando identified with me.’

  So much so that Fernando, to pay homage to you, celebrated some of his goals by posing as an archer, an unusual celebration which you yourself made famous.

  ‘Yes, that’s true – him and Dani Güiza. They repeated it. I really appreciate that.’

  And some people say that Fernando, during the 2006–07 season against Real Madrid, repeated the goal that you scored in the Champions League ten years earlier?

  ‘Yes, the two are very alike. In that match against Ajax, Caminero, playing deep, began the move for Aguilera on the right wing continuing up towards the goal line before passing the ball backwards. It came to me just in front of the penalty area and, half-turning, I shot towards the far post and it went in. I remember Fernando’s goal perfectly well because I was in the Calderón (Atlético Madrid’s stadium, the Estadio Vicente Calderón) as a TV commentator and because it’s the only goal that El Niño has scored at (Real) Madrid. Fernando got hold of the ball before passing it to Galletti who went down the right wing, putting a cross into the centre, where Torres controlled it skilfully with his best leg, the right, on the outside of his foot, and shot towards the post to the right of (Iker) Casillas (the Real Madrid goalkeeper) who could do absolutely nothing. Two important goals, especially El Niño’s. Real (Madrid) was his obsession.’

  Can we go back to Fernando’s debut in the Calderón?

  ‘That day I wasn’t in the team. I was having problems with the club – and with my ankles. They weren’t calling me up for home matches. But Fernando had already taken everyone by surprise, with his personality, self-confidence and willingness to learn plus his professional qualities and maturity. No, he certainly wasn’t a kid you had to look after. In training, he came up against defenders like ‘Super-López’ (Juan Manuel López Martínez, an Atlético stalwart who spent ten years at the club) and Hernández (Jean François, a Frenchman who had joined from Rayo Vallecano) and he didn’t give an inch. He was strong and determined to show what he could do.’

  And he showed what he could do at Albacete, in his second game with the first team.

  ‘Yes, at Albacete I was in the team. When Torres scored I thought ‘Bloody hell, why didn’t they take me off half an hour earlier!’ That was because he came on as a substitute for me. I had told him something like, ‘Good luck, come on kid, you can do it,’ and five minutes later he scored the winning goal with a superb header. What a kid …’

  In the pictures of that match, one can see you alongside the subs’ bench smiling and kissing the badge.

  ‘I was very happy to pass the baton to El Niño. It was rewarding for a true atlético to see that, after you, there was someone you could have confidence in. I could see myself reflected in him and his happiness. We’ve all been junior players – our dream was to get into the first team and score a goal wearing the shirt. Fernando achieved that.

  That goal was the subject of much celebration both in the stands and on the pitch.

  ‘That’s right. It gave us an important victory. It kept our promotion hopes alive. The fans came onto the pitch and we had our own celebrations in the dressing room. Fernando came and asked me if I would give him the captain’s armband as a present. I told him not be so silly, that it was covered in dirt and worn out, but he insisted so much that in the end I gave in and handed it over. Someone had got hold of some bottles of champagne, which we opened to toast our win. I offered a glass to Fernando and realised he was only seventeen and wasn’t able to drink alcohol and neither did he want to. So we rummaged around in the bag of a team-mate who’d brought in some things to eat – some sandwiches – and we came across a yogurt carton. I opened it and told him ‘You, lad, can make the toast with yogurt.’ And, with plastic carton in hand, that was how he celebrated his first goal!’

  But at the end of the season, the celebrations weren’t repeated.

  ‘We stayed in the Second Division and I left the club – with a lot of problems and a particular thorn in my side: I never managed to play in a match with Fernando. In training, we understood each other well. Once I gave him two goal-scoring passes and he beamed at me, saying, ‘Let’s see if we can repeat this on the pitch.’ It wasn’t possible. A real shame.’

  Eight years have gone by since then. How do you view Fernando now?

  ‘Now I see him as the finished article. Going to Liverpool meant he could take three steps up in one. He’s more relaxed, more himself, without the suffocating responsibilities and the mental wear and tear that were crushing him at Atlético. He didn’t have time properly to evolve. At just eighteen, he had to take up the baton and be the flag bearer. In footballing terms, he has seen a lot in a very short space of time. But he’s an intelligent lad, who, thanks to his family and the right kind of environment – without any false praise where people always tell you you’re great when you’re not – hasn’t lost his way, as has happened to other youngsters. No, he’s gone in the right direction. In Liverpool, he’s made his match.’

  What do you mean?

  ‘That he’s found the right kind of environment. Reina, Aberloa, Xabi Alonso have taken him under their wing. Steve Gerrard and Jamie Carragher have been able to guide him. Benítez, who is a perfectionist with great attention to detail, has helped him to iron out those imperfections his critics have always accused him of, like his passing and moving, his finishing, his ability to lose his marker, his shooting … Before, his shooting wasn’t so good, now it is.
And then you have to recognise that English football, with its end-to-end games and spaces in which to run, is ideal for someone with Fernando’s qualities. Yes, without doubt, Liverpool has given him a big step up.’

  Did you think it would all happen so quickly?

  ‘When he scored the first goal against Chelsea, I saw that as the turning point, I saw a player who had been liberated. From there on in, he had a marvellous season. And now he’s Number 3 in the world (in the FIFA World Player of the Year 2008 results).

  It’s also thanks to the goal in the final of Euro 2008.

  ‘Without doubt. That match made his name. The injury to Villa was fortunate for Fernando because he’s a footballer who needs space, who needs to be able to run across the line of attack from one side to the other. And he showed that he is a man who doesn’t let one down on the big occasions.’

  The conversation is interrupted. Patxi Alonso, sports presenter at Sexta arrives for a coffee. Between smiles and jokes, the talk comes back to that demanding match of indoor football, the result and the remaining ties up to the final. A glance at the watch means that it is time to head for the TV. A good piece of programming.

  Chapter 13

  In El Niño’s hands

  There are 20,000 of them in and around the Neptune fountain in central Madrid. ‘¡Adiós a Segunda, adiós! ¡Adiós a Segunda, adiós!’ – ‘Farewell to the Second Division, Farewell!’ they shout. After 721 days in purgatory, Atlético are back in the First Division. On 27 April 2002, in the Calderón, a victory against Gimnàstic de Tarragona would have given them the mathematical certainty of promotion but on 90 minutes Ángel Cuellar equalises for ‘Nastic’ to make it 3-3 and the torment goes on. But only for a few hours. Thanks to a chance set of favourable results they can celebrate the next day. Not since 1996 – the year in which Atlético won the league and the Copa del Rey – have the fans had a reason to get together around the fountain dedicated to the god of the sea, their ‘temple’, their altar for club celebrations. They do it in style. They jump with joy, sing, wave flags, light flares, throw bangers, mock Real Madrid, their eternal rivals, block the traffic in one of the main thoroughfares of the city, and even clash with the police. The most repeated songs and chants praise manager Luis Aragonés, who has achieved the miracle, and Fernando Torres.