Red Txetxu, forever in memory

There was always something divine about him. His elegant walk, as if he were floating, made him look like an artist, like a cowboy before the final duel. For me, born months before his Athletic debut, he was always a magical player. Those who whistled at him, some are smart. In the games in the courtyard, we all want to be Red – being the goalkeeper is not so cool. On the cards, he stands out in his appearance between Pirris, Asensis or Del Bosques.

My aitite idolizes him. “A dribble from the ordiga”, he said as he watched him leave his marker. I don’t know what that “ordig” thing is, but it sure is very good. He didn’t even know where Begoña was, his neighborhood, or where that Firestone team came from, where he came from Athletic.

The only notable picture I keep from my childhood is one where I am wearing a cotton shirt, already wrinkled, with eleven Txetxu on my back and with a rubber ball under my arm and a happy smile We all want to be Red, dribble like him, cross like him, walk like him. I even asked that I be left-handed. I even liked their rudeness, their arms raised to the sky.

Now that I see the iconic photo of Claudio Jr., with a sad Red, alone, sitting on the grass of La Catedral, after the final against Juve, I remember the tears I shed that night, the I shed tears in cascades. against Betis in the Cup. Rojo ably led the ultra offensive Athletic of Operation Return, directed by Koldo Aguirre. He made us very happy!

His dry dribbles, his braking, his changes of pace and direction and the measured, composed centres. Going to San Mamés is the milk. It goes to Red’s house. And like the Norwegian Erik the Red, he deserves a Viking funeral, with the barge on fire furrowing the Ría, sunk next to the Cathedral, surrounded by his great red and white family. Goian fool, Txetxu!