I know many of you are interested in Iker’s biography, La Humildad del Campeón, so I’ll try and post excerpts from it each week, as long as I have a bit of free time. I plan to only translate the good parts, so expect lots of anecdotes and not too much technical stuff.
Chapter 1: Real Madrid, his only team.
Spring, 1981.
It was the spring of 1981. In Bilbao, it was raining and the Casillas-Fernández family was anxiously awaiting the birth of their first child. They didn’t know whether it would be a boy or a girl. Mari Carmen wanted a girl, José Luis wanted a boy. And since back then, there weren’t ultrasound scans, the uncertainty lasted until the final moment. One morning, Mari Carmen went out to take a walk around the Casco Viejo and she entered into a shoe store, to buy a pair of boots.
Is that little Iker wearing an Athletic kit there?
Thirty years later, Mari Carmen remembers that moment perfectly. She already got nervous each time someone told her that she was going to have a boy, and this man even went further to say that the baby would become a footballer. She responded, “leave me in peace about whether he’ll play football or not. The only thing I want is for the baby to come out healthy. In addition, I want a girl who doesn’t like football, like her mother.”
That shoe store employee was right. The boy was born a footballer and since he was born in Madrid, his father decided that he could “only” play for Real Madrid. His father was so convinced of this that he didn’t allow his son to have any other team before he put on that light blue jersey of the Losada team, which was part of the Torneo Social of the club.
Mari Carmen and José Luis had no doubts that they would name their son Iker. They had discussed with their family about the name, and it was the one they liked the most. There’s no equivalent in Spanish for “Iker.” It’s the masculine form of “Ikerne” and it means “visitation, the one who brings good news.”
Iker’s childhood in Móstoles was like that of any other child. He began walking at an early age and shortly after he became obsessed with footballs, much to the delight of his father, who loved football, and to the indignation of his mother, who didn’t know anything about this sport and had no desire to learn. Without any siblings, his father became his teammate, and by the age of six-seven, there wasn’t a single Sunday where the two of them didn’t go down to the fields of the Joan Miró school to kick the ball around.
Iker always went straight for the goal. It wasn’t often that he wanted to play as a forward. Even when the other boys in the neighborhood improvised a game, his idea didn’t change. He couldn’t be moved from between the goalposts. Normally, he played with older boys, who were impressed with the courage of this kid, who threw the ball to everyone and who didn’t mind diving onto the concrete ground. When he was eight, Poviso, a team in Móstoles, wanted to sign him, but in the end it didn’t work out.
From the first grade to the fifth, he studied at the Pablo Picasso school, before going to the Vicente Aleixandre school for grades six through eight. Then it was on to the Cañaveral high school, where he completed his three years of high school. He was a good student, but he always preferred the ball. He also liked karate, earning an orange belt.
All of the older kids in the neighborhood told José Luis that his son was a good goalkeeper, brave, that he kicked very well, that he had good reflexes, all of which are good things for a goalkeeper to have. One day, one of them commented that he had seen an advertisement in Marca that said Real Madrid was holding tryouts for boys born in 1981. José Luis verified the information, and he went to the Santiago Bernabéu. It was June 1990. Iker had just turned nine. José Luis asked for the application form, filled it out, and returned to Móstoles, telling himself on the way back that they had nothing to lose and that his son had possibilities.
The tryout.
Why was Real Madrid the chosen team, and not Atlético or any of the teams in the south of Madrid closer to their home? It was because José Luis believed that if Real Madrid said no, there was still time to try out for the other clubs. In September, they called Iker about a tryout. It consisted of a practice game, nothing more. They told him they would call him later on. The months passed and the call never came. It wasn’t until January that it came. Jan. 12, 1991 would be the big day. Iker will never forget that day.
“I don’t even remember how I was the day of the test. I suppose I was more nervous than normal. What I do remember is how everything transpired. We went to the Ciudad Deportiva. From the time I was six, I knew I wanted to be a goalkeeper. My uncle and aunt had given me a pair of gloves, and since I never took them off, I was always put in the goal. Back then, no one wanted to be the goalkeeper.”
“I went to have a tryout when I was eight, but they told me that I was too small, that they would call me later on. Three or four months passed before they called me. My mother told me not to get my hopes up, that they weren’t going to call me, that they told all the kids they would call them so they wouldn’t lose hope. But they called me, and inscribed me in the Trofeo Social.”
That was the first step. Back then, Real Madrid had their own breeding ground for players, and that was the Trofeo Social that Iker referred to. That year, it was the XXIX edition and 16 teams in three categories (benjamín and two groups of alevines, with boys aged eight to 11) were participating. The teams were named after players on the first team. Iker entered the benjamín category and was “signed” by the Losada team.
The coordinator of this breeding ground was the late Antonio Mezquita, one of those coaches who are fundamental for the cantera of a club, and who spent the entire day at the Ciudad Deportiva. He was the one who discovered Iker. There’s no doubt about that, unlike the case of Raúl, where many people take credit for being the first one to discover him. Mezquita knew that this nine-year-old boy had what it took to become the goalkeeper of Real Madrid and supported him throughout his entire career. In the old Ciudad Deportiva, the legend goes that Mezquita’s friend, don Julio, one of those fans with the soul of a scout, had seen the boy develop on the fields of Móstoles and had recommended him to his friend. In any case, Mezquita supported Iker during the entire selection stage.
That first day is also unforgettable for José Luis. The first game in the Ciudad Deportiva. They arrived in his red Seat 124. “They let us park inside and he played on the dirt field on the left, entering through the side door. Losada played the Lopetegui team. Iker played the second half. He was good, calm. It was what I wanted, for him to stay calm and remain himself. I told him that if he was chosen, good, and if not, it didn’t matter.”
Iker’s team lost 1-7 and he allowed five goals. Hierro’s team was the winner of that edition. Losada finished fifth out of six, with a record of 3-3-9, and 46 goals in favor and 65 against.
“We arrived and they put us to play directly. I thought it was going to be a training session, another test. I didn’t even had the right clothing… That’s how I explained it to myself after they scored five on me.”
Iker was impressed by the chat that Antonio Mezquita gave them to explain the situation.
“He was very sincere with his statement. We were children, but we understood, or at least I did. He told us that there were 200 of us, that they were going to select the best 40, then narrow it down to 20, and that out of everyone, perhaps only one or two would make it to the first team. I remember this phrase because that’s exactly what happened.”
