This post includes several conversations in Spanish. I have included an English translation for the benefit of non-hispanophones.
One of the highlights of an otherwise mundane existence is my friendship, albeit brief, with one of the Argentina’s most celebrated footballers, Esteban Cambiasso.
Not long after he had signed for Leicester City, I was astonished to find myself standing behind the great man whilst queueing to pay for a couple of items at a local Lidl. Unfortunately, Esteban was not used to the speed with which the cashier was scanning his groceries, and he was beginning to get a bit flustered as they began to pile up on that tiny packing area favoured by the German discount supermarket chains.
Having picked up a bit of the old español in a recent introduction to Spanish night-school class, I felt emboldened to intervene and unasked, I started to help him to pack his purchases, which included by the way, several yellow label discounted items, into his shopping trolley.
Señor Cambiasso, permitame ayudarle. Señor Cambiasso, let me help you.
Muchas gracias, muy amable de tu parte. Llamame Esteban. Thanks very much, that’s very kind of you. Call me Esteban.
Grateful for having been spared the embarrassment of being on the receiving end of the disapproving glares and impatient tutting of those behind him in the queue, Esteban waited for me as I quickly paid for the ‘Flavour of the Week’ Italian ham and cheese that I’d specifically gone there for.
Outside, we continued to chat casually in Spanish for a few minutes. I asked him what the time was in Buenos Aires, while he wanted directions to the town hall and wondered how much a kilo of peaches might cost at the market.
He thanked me again for my help and we parted, I assumed, to find our respective vehicles. However, as I opened my Fiat’s door, I was surprised to see that Esteban was in fact heading towards the bus-stop across the road. So, I called out to him:
¡Oye, Esteban! ¿Quieres que te lleve a casa? Hey, Esteban! Fancy a lift home?
He gave a relieved smile with a big thumbs up and swiftly made his way back over to the car park. Keen to employ his then limited English, he told me about his day. I gleaned that his Maserati was up on the ramp at the dealership with some as yet undiagnosed computer fault. Unfortunately, the garage didn’t have a spare courtesy car available for him to use, hence his taking the bus.
Anyway, he enthusiastically got into the car and while he was making himself comfortable, I lifted his shopping trolley and put it into the back of the Punto. As I was closing the hatchback, I was suddenly drawn to the trolley’s stylish lines and imaginative colour scheme. It looked quite exquisite! Clearly, the pressures of the in-store packing frenzy had distracted me from fully appreciating its aesthetic appeal earlier. To cap it all, his name was cheekily emblazoned across its top! Like an over- excited teenager, I blurted out:
¡Qué carro de la compra exquisito! What an exquisite shopping trolley!
I couldn’t help myself!
Sí, es un modelo italiano clásico de la vieja escuela por lo tanto hay solamente dos ruedas pero tiene una capacidad máxima de casí 40 litros. ¡Es mi favorito de verdad! Yes, it’s a classic Italian, old-school model, so there are only two wheels but it’s got a maximum capacity of almost 40 litres! It really is my favourite! ,
the now seat-belted Argentine legend enthused from my Fiat’s passenger seat, which incidentally was now reclined at a very flamboyant Latin-American angle.
“Cuchu” as Esteban later asked me to call him, liked to personalise his shopping trolleys. When he left LCFC he gave me the pick of his collection, which he’d named Álvaro, apparently after his childhood Shih Tzu Poodle (Shihpoo) cross. What a beauty, eh!
When we got to his house, he asked to exchange phone numbers and once he’d settled in at the club, Esteban began to text me fun reports of his post-training shopping exploits in supermarkets across Leicestershire. As our friendship blossomed, we began to plan outings together. These would sometimes involve us crossing the border into neighbouring counties where we would explore the weekly offers of the supermarkets there. One day it might be a humble Co-op in Nottinghamshire, another day, if we were feeling flush, we might venture out to somewhere more glamorous like an out-of- town M&S Foodhall or a Waitrose somewhere in deepest Northants.
Whenever City were playing away, Cuchu would ask me to suggest branches of regional supermarket chains for him to visit. Once, when Leicester City had a cup-tie in Preston, he famously asked manager Nigel Pearson to stop the team bus outside a branch of Booths, so he could check out its much lauded deli-counter and do a quick top-up shop!
Time really flies by, doesn’t it? Having helped LCFC to avoid relegation, his work in Leicester was done and Esteban decided to move on to Greece and a new challenge with Olympiakos. The day before he departed for Athens, I was having a coffee with one of my store security guard mates at a Morrisons, when I received a text that read:
Adiós, querido amigo. ¡Gracias para todas las aventuras de supermercado fantásticas! Quiero que tu tengas Álvaro. Antes de salir voy a dejarlo al estadiol. ¡Cuidalo! Un fuerte abrazo. Cuchu. Goodbye, dear friend. Thanks for all the great supermarket adventures! I want you to have Álvaro. I’m going to leave him at the ground before I leave. Take care of him! A big hug. Cuchu.
Jeff Schlupp, Kingy and Álvaro celebrate with Esteban after his thunderbolt nestled in the bottom left-hand corner of the onion bag against Man United. Great times indeed!
Not long after Esteban had moved to Greece, I upgraded my phone and somehow managed to lose his number. Perhaps he had done the same, as that was the last time that I heard from him. Deep down I knew that he had most likely decided to move on and had found a new chum to help him to navigate the thrills of supermarket shopping in the Greek capital. I accepted that things were truly over when he unfriended me on Facebook and then mysteriously blocked me on Instagram and WhatsApp too.
They say that time is a great healer and I can console myself knowing that I would be the envy of many a Foxes fan, if they knew about my crazy supermarket escapades with the Argentinian midfield maestro. I will always cherish those amazing memories. As for Álvaro, ever the looker, he still turns heads and draws approving comments whenever I take him out. Yes, I am truly blessed! Thank YOU, Cuchu!
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