Renaldo (52 page)

forth from the A squad to the B squad depending on manager Suarez’s fancy,

the R&R duo seemed to find each other and create dangerous opportunities,

if not goals, on every occasion that they were teamed together. The musical

combo continued to draw the ire of ‘Killer’ Chacon, who did not partake in

any of their free-time jam sessions, and who also insisted that the rest of his

Independiente followers stay away from the ‘fucking mamas’ boys.’

The R&Rs were undisturbed by this rebuff, and it was evident that the

two B squad Independiente players, Arzu and Argueta, would have liked to

join in the fun that the dynamic duo provided the rest of the team.

While he grudgingly played the showman for Ramon and his teammates,

it was the few solitary moments alone in his room that Renaldo cherished

the most. He would sit on his bed, softly strumming staccato cords while he

hummed or half sang the words of his most revered composer-lyricist.

His father had first introduced him to the bossa nova rhythm from Brazil

when he was a small boy. Sergio Mendez and João Gilberto melodies soon

became musical mainstays in Casa San Marco. But it was the songs and lyrics

of the incomparable Antonio Carlos Jobim that truly inspired the boy. His

“Girl from Ipanema” single was a commercial success on all five continents,

even though it was popularized in much of the world by a Sergio Mendez

cover version. Antonio Carlos Jobin had collaborated in the recording studio

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with some of the greatest names in modern music, from Brazilian jazz pioneer

Laurindo Almeida, through bossa nova creators Gilberto and Luis Bonfa, to

legends like tenor sax great Stan Getz and guitarist Charlie Byrd. His musical

coup, however, was the recording of a landmark album in Los Angeles in 1967

with Frank Sinatra.

Arranged and conducted with full orchestration by the meticulous Claus

Ogerman, the ‘Francis Albert Sinatra-Antonio Carlos Jobim’ album was an

international chart-topper that popularized the Brazilian’s velvet melodies and

lamenting vocals to millions. That particular album remained Renaldo’s all-

time favorite, and he carried the cassette tape of these two musical virtuosos in

his guitar case. It was as cherished as the instrument itself.

Thoughts of Simone flooded his mind as he played and softly sang the

master’s gifts just for her. The melody was never a problem for him, but the

singing voice . . . it was more of a whining croak. His speaking voice had been

deep and mature since puberty, no problem. But once he changed its normal

pitch or key, dogs started to bark. So he kept it soft, barely a whisper, as he

longingly played “Insensatez,” “Corcovado,” or his favorite, “Desafinado.”

“Sensuous Symca Fills Maracana!” blazed the headline in the Rio paper

that Simone had clipped and sent him. She had written twice, which Renaldo

found flattering, considering her nonstop touring schedule. Filling immense

Maracana Stadium with two hundred thousand people was no small task, but

the Brazilians were morbidly curious, as well as confident, that this foreigner

would not live up to the preshow hype. Swept up in their own World Cup fever,

they came in droves to see the host nation’s number one sex symbol. Many of

them were prepared to have a bit of fun at her expense in a boisterous, pep

rally-type atmosphere.

Arriving on stage in only a yellow Brazilian football jersey with matching

yellow spiked heels, the sexy singer embraced the audience, blowing kisses to

the throng, backed by a pulsating samba beat. She had the crowd eating out of

the palm of her hand before she even sang a note.

Symca was the toast of Rio the following morning, and the influx of tour

orders for World Cup ’78 that flooded travel agencies the next few days were

directly attributed to Argentina’s hottest football ambassador.

Renaldo reread her letter and tried to translate the newspaper article

from Portugese to Spanish, but he never mentioned their existence, nor his

relationship with the most famous woman in Argentina to anyone. Not even

Ramon Vida.

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RENALDO

His personal life was no secret to the two nonplayer guests who, from

time to time, would drop by his room for a quiet chat. One of them, Estes

Santos, would lustily ask for any details of his young friend’s courtship of the

starlet. Knowing Estes as he did, Renaldo did not take offense, rather he would

shift the topic of conversation to criticizing his performance on the soccer pitch.

He had asked Estes to keep his relationship with Simone a private matter, and

the goalkeeper coach did not betray his vow of silence. Santos would also ask

of news from home, of Florencia, even Lonnie. How was his mother coping as

the start of the university semester drew closer? With the first international

exhibition matches about to commence, it was out of the question that he would

be available to start the school year, barring injuries or outright dismissal from

the team, of course.

Renaldo responded that his mother seemed surprisingly calm about the

situation. In fact, it was never mentioned at all in her sporadic letters. By the

tone of her missives, she seemed in particularly good spirits. Lonnie and Celeste

had been working at No Se Preocupe the last few weeks, and the older brother

had promised Florencia that he was going back to school. That would make

his mother happy, but not as euphoric as parts of her letters seemed to be. No,

there was something else going on in the life of Florencia De Seta that her

youngest son could not put his finger on.
Better euphoric than depressed,
was the

boy’s overall attitude as he thanked heaven for small mercies.

The other visitor that knew of his romantic yearnings was none other

than Astor Gordero. The attorney’s family had owned a mansion on the beach

in Mar del Plata for years, and Astor would take the sun and surf each summer

like countless others, albeit much more lavishly. The selection of the seaside

resort town as the team’s training headquarters had been spearheaded by The

Fat Man, and now that they were in residence, it afforded him the opportunity

to keep an eye on how things were proceeding. He was also able to titillate

his young client with news of the boy’s famous heartthrob. Renaldo enjoyed

Gordero’s visits, not only for the insights on Simone, but also for the firsthand

knowledge that he always acquired on everything from the team and its

composition, to the activities of the organizing committee and the preparedness

of the facilities.

Astor Gordero had a willing and enthusiastic audience in the bright,

curious schoolboy, and Astor Gordero was one man that loved to hear himself

talk. Renaldo was amazed by the politicking and arm twisting that took place

in the committee rooms, which the visitor described down to the most minute

of details. As the two talked, one could sense a bond of friendship and trust

developing, at least on the younger man’s part. He would look forward to ‘El

Hombre Gordo’s’ visits, for the player always felt that he was the guardian

of secret or privileged information after a tête-à-tête with his knowledgeable

agent.

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JAMES McCREATH

But Astor Gordero was not one to tip all his cards in the great game of

life. There was always some angle, something hidden up his sleeve. In this case,

it was his current orchestrations regarding his client’s mother, Florencia.

Since their initial meeting at the race track, Gordero had spoken to Señora

De Seta several times on the telephone. Initially making contact on the pretext

of having information on her youngest son’s progress in Miramar, Gordero soon

discreetly maneuvered the conversation to the topic of financial planning for

Renaldo, should he become successful in his attempt to make the National

Team.

Florencia was mildly flattered at the incredible amount of fan mail and

requests for Renaldo’s poster that were arriving daily at the National Team

mail depot, according to her new large friend. The Teatro Colon appearance

on national television had given the señoritas a fresh face to dream about at

night, and it was the simple name ‘Renaldo’ that appeared on the envelopes of

hundreds of inquiring letters.

Her son was handsome, and she knew that it was more than just maternal

pride that allowed her to say that. She voiced concerned, however, that this

newfound attention would somehow distract him from his toils. Gordero

assured her that fan mail would only become available to the players after

training camp was over. Only immediate relatives and close friends had the

direct address to the Miramar training facility. There were secretaries sorting

and organizing the requests on the players’ behalf at this very moment. Those

that made the team would spend time back in Buenos Aires on days called

‘press days,’ signing autographs and promotional material such as fan mail,

posters, flags, hats, and much more.

At this stage, Renaldo had no inkling that he was fast becoming Argentina’s

new mystery sensation, and Octavio Suarez was bound and determined to keep

it that way.

“My concerns for your son deal with addition, not adulation, my dear

lady,” Gordero exclaimed. “As I have told you previously, the boy stands to

make millions of dollars in salaries and endorsements, even if he plays only

a year or two. It is my desire as his attorney, and I feel, close friend, to make

sure that every potential financial windfall is investigated and acted upon with

extreme diligence. It is a swamp full of alligators out there, and there are many

unscrupulous individuals just waiting to prey on a new, unsuspecting victim. I

do not want Renaldo, or yourself, Señora, to fall victim to these scoundrels.”

A look of remorse was the perfect accompaniment to the revelations of a

cruel world. A pause for effect, then Gordero continued.

“To prepare a proper business plan for your son, however, I feel that it

would be prudent for me to survey the boy’s entire financial picture. In other

words, for me to know his total asset base, as well as details such as when

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legacies or other inheritance benefits accrue. This will enable me to stagger the

payments to your son and reduce his overall tax consequences. It is a sad matter,

but have no doubt, Señora, the tax payments will be substantial on anything

he makes in this country.”

Florencia was impressed with the lawyer’s thoroughness. The technicalities

of the various trusts and estates were something that she, for the most part, left

to the executors to sort out. There was always more than enough money at her

disposal, but she now had to face the reality that her youngest son’s financial

independence was imminent, football career or no football career.

If Renaldo truly trusts this man, would it not be best to consolidate his assets as

Señor Gordero suggests?
she mused as the lawyer kept up a constant monologue

on the other end of the telephone.

“Señor Gordero, perhaps you could drop by Casa San Marco in the near

future and we could discuss this matter in person.”

“I am at your disposal, Señora.”

Two days later, Astor Gordero was seated in Figueroa San Marco’s old

office.

“If these walls could talk, Señora De Seta, I believe they would be able

to relate the whole story of the modern industrial revolution in Argentina.

Between your late father-in-law, Señor Lonfranco, and General San Marco,

this room has hosted presidents and diplomats from all over the world. It is a

historically rich and fascinating place. I feel honored to be here.”

“Thank you, Señor Gordero. It is true, this room has a different feel about

it than any other in the casa. My late husband used to come in here, close the

door, and just sit for hours behind that desk when he needed a place to think.

He would say that the ghosts would help him decide what to do, that the