Now let me say something to start with, all the Rio Grande players happen to be some of the most spiritually enlightened footballers you are ever likely to meet. Yet even they seemed unprepared for the sight of Gargagno ( the swarthy uruguayan midfield enforcer) arriving at the training ground dressed entirely in a long flowing brown robe and his stubby feet covered in willowy leather Zakopane slippers. Aromga's face said it all one of entire disbelief and as Gargagno walked around the entire team kissing each player goodbye, tears flowed, including my own. This feels like the right time to tell Gargagno's story.
Even as we were about to board the plane to Polska a month ago, Gargagno had come to me with his doubts " I lovio Rio Grande" he told me " I love the club and everything it stands for, but most of all I love the village and its people" " High up here in the mountains with these people is where I found my peace, I do not think I can leave it" I chose not to argue with him as I had always respected him as a player and a man, but just as i was ready to accept the loss of one of my most impotantio players something happened that would change his mind.
The mercurial winger Pastore sidled up towards Gargano, he was clinging on to two leggy blondes Ola and Annenka, he was clearly very drunk and i could see the dissaproval spread across Gargano's face. I fully expected him to storm off telling me about how Europe is a Godless land of money, whores and moral collapse. Instead what happened was Pastore nodded at the tallest blonde woman Ola, who then leaned forward giggling and whispered something in Gargagno's ear, i kne not what. Then Gargagno rushed up to me, his face lit up like a small boy, showing his grandfather his new train set on his birthday.
" Can you imagine it bossio, i will come to europe with the squadio and do you know who else will be on the flight" he could almost not spit the words out fast enough. "Gabriele? Gabriel Garcia Marquez Dios mio"
Now as many of you football fans will already know, when a combative midfield enforcer like Gargagno is asked who inspires him, one expects to hear a list of names such as Dunga, Makelele and Mattheus. But many a journalist has been left somewhat bewildered by Gargagno's post match comments that often quote Hamsun, Kafka, Castaneda and more often that not his hero himself the great Marquez.
At that very moment i could have kissed Marquez myself, not least because I was a huge admirer of his work personally, but more importantly that merely his presence on this flight had allowed me to keep one of the most valued members of my team ole.
All seemed well, then just as we were getting the final call to our gate disaster struck, Gonzalo the reliable if slightly psychotic Argentinian right back had dissapeared. This was strange as he had been extremely enthusiastic about our impending trip to Europa, but there was one small obstacle, that had stopped him seeing more of the world before now, he was petrified of flying. Earlier I had given him 3 valium at the airport, with the strictist instructions to only take one now and maybe a second when we were over the Azores if he started to feel anxious again. It quickly became apparent that I had not made instructions clear enough; when a attractive stewardess approached me to tell us that my right back had just been discovered fast asleep in the stewardesses changing rooms, Pastore let out a snort of laughter which quickly subsided when the stewardess told us the airport polizia had been called.
After a great deal of remonstrating on my part, which involved me telling the airport security staff that Gonzalo was in fact a sleep walking Narcoleptic, the security staff decided not to press charges and even provided us with a wheelchair to transport the sleeping Gonzalo onto the plane with. it took 4 of us to haul this comatose Argentinian into it but finally we were on the plane and off to Polska.
Thankfully by Rio Grandes standards the flight was for the most part uneventful. The main problem was the long queue for the whole fight for the toilet, as Ola, Pastore and Annenka seemed to need the bathroom a lot and for long periods of time and for some reason they all had to go together! The youngest player in the squad Acosta commented on this to me and I told him it was best not to think of such things.
Gargagno had somehow managed to snag himslef a seat next to the great writer Marquez and had emptied the entire contents of his had luggage out, swathes of notebooks covered all the chairs and tables by where they sat.Marquez gracefully read through Gargagno's scribblings, nodding intently as theUruguayan discussed what he thought were the finer points of writing.
As for Gonzalo he slept through the flight and the first 3 days in Europe!
Aromga the club captain sat there fretting the entire time about how Pastore's sexual exhaustion, Gonzalo's narcotic induced coma and Gargagno's obsession with mystical literature were going to affect Rio Grandes chances in the coming season.
I spent the whole 15 hours of the flight with Young Acosta, the 18 year old blonde haired and blue eyed winger we had recently signed. During the journey he uburdened himself to me about his sexuality and whether I thought his team mates would shun him if they knew he was gay. I gently explained to him that Rio Grande was not any football team and that the players, the village and everyone connected with this wonderful club would never judge a man by who he chooses to love. Buoyed by this news he stood up and as lound as he could shout, he pronounced his love and plans to marry his true love Xavier baratopopopoliopo the famed Spanish Flamenco guitarist, the team cheered, the champagne flowed and the stewardesses arranged an impromptu engagement party for Acosta, the highlight of which was a beautiful speech made by Marquez himself on the nature of love.
As I sat there mineral water in hand watching the festivities unfold, I felt like a proud and loving father to these brave young men and as the plane landed finally in Polska, everyone was either drunk with champagne or joy; all except Gonzalo who, was still in a valium induced blissful sleep dreaming of crunching goal line tackles!!
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