Torres: El Niño: My Story. Fernando Torres

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      My interest in the Premier League grew. In Spain, most people only ever talked about La Liga. At the time there was little coverage of foreign leagues and few Spanish players were playing their club football outside the country. That was the time, in the late 1990s, when Arsenal built a great side with Dennis Bergkamp, Ian Wright, David Seaman, Tony Adams, Nicolas Anelka and a very young Thierry Henry, with ArsÈne Wenger as coach. They were wonderful to watch. So much so that I used to choose Arsenal when I played chapas—the Spanish equivalent of table football played with bottle tops. You would play against friends with metal bottle tops that you painted in the colours of your favourite team; I’d painted mine Arsenal colours with the players’ names on. We would challenge each other to games at school and in the parks in Fuenlabrada, the town just outside Madrid where I lived. When José Antonio Reyes signed for them, I followed with interest: I kept a close eye on his progress, his team-mates, and his new club.

      I had always been interested in foreign leagues as a kid. I followed the Italian league as much as possible because I loved the way that the Argentinians Gabriel Batistuta and Abel Balbo played. I also liked a kid that was coming through by the name of Francesco Totti. Before that I remember Arrigo Sacchi’s Milan, van Basten in particular, and later I followed Juventus with Alessandro Del Piero, Gianluca Vialli and Fabrizio Ravanelli. Then there was George Weah at Milan, a phenomenal player. My favourite in Italy was always Batistuta. He had everything. But my idol at home was Kiko Narváez—one of the heroes of the league and cup double that Atlético won in 1996.

      In the summer of 2006 after the World Cup in Germany, Bahía Internacional, the company that have looked after me since I was fifteen, told me that there had been discussions with Manchester United. Sir Alex Ferguson had been involved in the negotiations but in the end nothing happened: maybe neither of us really pushed hard enough.

      I also found out that some other English clubs, like Newcastle and Tottenham, had made offers which Atlético rejected—just as they did to offers from Olympique Lyon and Inter Milan. I also felt that it wasn’t the time to leave and none of the offers entirely convinced me. My desire to succeed with Atlético stopped me thinking about a change.

      When Liverpool’s offer arrived a year later, I took a long time thinking about it and in the end I decided it was time for a change. I felt that I was stagnating in Spain and that my development was grinding to a halt. The Premier League is the strongest in Europe. A few years ago, La Liga was the best but the huge influx of foreign players has allowed the English league to improve and the football is more attractive now—it’s faster and more intense, there are more goal scoring chances and the players respect the rules of the game better. In England, players don’t dive. They try to help the referees, they don’t try to take advantage of every situation and the game isn’t constantly stopping. There’s a level of respect that lets you really enjoy the game. Of course there are tough tackles, but they are honest attempts to win the ball and players who do get fouled get up straight away, even if it hurts, instead of rolling round the turf to try to get the crowd going and put pressure on the referee. As a spectator, I really enjoy watching Premier League games. Even before I signed, my Spanish team-mates—people like Xabi Alonso and Pepe Reina—told me that I would enjoy playing in England even more than I had enjoyed playing in Spain.

      I always thought that I would play at Anfield as a visitor, never as part of the home team. I would compare the old Highbury to Anfield; I would have loved to have played there. That respect for history and tradition is something that should be applauded. Reyes and Cesc Fabregas told me about the reverence shown during the final few games at Arsenal’s old ground. It’s like Anfield, a cathedral to the game. You want to be able to tell your friends: ‘I’ve been there, where so many glorious pages of footballing history were written.’

      Destiny seemed to have decided that if I ever left Atlético Madrid it would be for Liverpool. Having turned down various proposals, Rafa Benítez’s call made me reflect and start to have doubts for the first time. I decided that it was the right moment to leave and I asked Miguel-Ángel Gil Marín, Atlético’s owner, to listen to Liverpool’s offer.

      I didn’t know that Liverpool was the most successful club in England. Since Rafa went to Anfield and took Spanish players with him, I had got to know Liverpool better but I didn’t realise that. I remember the 2001 Uefa Cup final against Alavés but I thought they were some way behind the teams that I assumed dominated English football: Manchester United and Arsenal. I was surprised when I found out just how incredible their history was and how many titles they had won.

      Istanbul revealed Liverpool’s true spirit. The Spanish television channel Canal Plus broadcast a report about the history of the club after they had won their fifth European Cup in Turkey—about the tragedies at Heysel and Hillsborough, the connection between players and fans, the struggle against adversity. The commitment to overcome difficulties and stand tall, the ability to face up to every situation and beat it, is reserved for true giants. Liverpool FC is a special and complete club, one that plays and fights, that gives everything for the people who follow it.

      I had heard the names that are most associated with Liverpool: Dalglish, Rush, Souness, Keegan, Owen, Fowler, McManaman, Hamann…As someone who has always followed those players who come through the ranks at their clubs, I was especially interested in a young lad from the youth team called Steven Gerrard. In the 1980s Liverpool were practically invincible. I was told that the European ban they suffered after Heysel made them stronger domestically, even though they had an important handicap with less of a presence on the international club stage. You still find Liverpool fans all over the world though and I think the club needs to keep growing by encouraging that and making sure they continue to be known worldwide. Until I signed for Liverpool, I never knew they were so big. And I felt like they didn’t have much of a presence beyond

      Merseyside either; attention was focused on London and Manchester. But then, suddenly, Liverpool were back in the spotlight. A lot of that is down to Rafa Benítez, who has changed things at the club and revived some of the old Liverpool philosophy, giving the club a global presence again.

      Liverpool’s two Champions League finals remain fresh in my mind. In Istanbul and Athens the values that embody the club shone through. I turned off the television at half time in the 2005 final. It seemed to be all over. Everything pointed to the second half being a waste of time, just an exercise in running down the clock. But when I got to the restaurant where I’d arranged to meet with friends, I asked them to put the television on and I couldn’t believe it. I don’t know where they found the strength and character to take that game into extra-time and penalties. When Liverpool got to the final in Greece two years later, I watched the whole game at home. After what had happened the first time, I wasn’t going to miss a minute. I wanted Liverpool to win because I had friends in the team. Once again, things looked bleak but when Dirk Kuyt scored I thought that another comeback was possible. In fact, I’m convinced that if the referee hadn’t cut the game short by a few seconds, the Reds would have taken things into extra-time again. The equaliser was possible and a victory likely.

      Watching those two nights unfold on television taught me my first lesson about the club I would later join: at Liverpool, no one gives up and everything’s possible.

       II Why I am an Atlético

      It was a cold winter afternoon, just after Christmas. We had eaten in Dehesa de la Villa, the neighbourhood in Madrid where my grandparents lived, and during the meal someone asked: ‘Can we go and see Atlético play?’

      They were playing at home against Compostela. It was the perfect game for us, a combination of our commitment to the red and white of Atlético and the pull of home—my father is from a small village near Santiago de Compostela in Galicia, up in the northwest СКАЧАТЬ