Sebastian, "Let Me Tell You Something"

Sebastian, dear old friend. "Let me tell you something"...Yesterday morning when you left us the day was so beautiful, one of these autumn days with the sky so blue, a north-western breeze that gets into your lungs and makes you think that life is great and worth living. I knew that sooner rather than later I would get the phone call announcing that you were gone for good because it was not worth living the way you were living lately. Freedom at last, old buddy. The Partido is over.

Years back, in good old Florida days, whenever you started a conversation in english, you began with a .... "Let me tell you something"... introduction. It was so funny, we used to laugh so much.

When I heard the news memories burst into my head, memories that went back to our childhood. The first time I saw you, you were practicing jai-alai in Tolosa's Beotibar fronton. You were already a big guy for a teenager; you came from Astigarraga, your hometown, together with a tiny guy that people called Xapaterito de Astigarraga. A couple of years later we were in Barcelona, we both still teenagers and already playing professional. We were roommates in a Pension nearby the Ramblas, close to the Principal Palacio fronton. We were young and careless and we had so much freedom to do anything we wanted to do, but, in fact, what we really wanted to do was go to Florida. Barcelona was a temporary station on the way to that desired destination and we were travel companions. I picture myself, you and me and Calzas Calzacorta and Alcalde Garamendi back and forth by the Ramblas, some people thought that we were part of a basketball team... Do you remember when we attended the English academy? The four of us. Our classes lasted a two or three weeks, at most. The teacher invited us not to comeback anymore. We were a complete disaster. "This is an umbrella" I had to say, and hand it to you. You had to answer, "thank you for the umbrella" and continue the conversation with Calzas. Obviously, sentences were never completed because we exploded in hilarious laughs in front of a desperate teacher that finally expelled us from class.

"Let me tell you something"... I went to Tampa for the 1974 season, you remained in Barcelona for the military service. News arrived from Barcelona, Sebastian is playing great. Facing téte a téte with the greatest players at that time. Chimela, Etxabe II, Churruca, Ondarres, Bengoa... there you played your best jai-alai ever.

After Barcelona you came to Ocala, we were there after the Tampa season, that was 1974 I believe. Tampa again after Ocala. Tampa was a heaven for a player, nice atmosphere among the players, singles most of us; Beitia and Arregui, the players' managers were good fellows. The city at that time was not too crowded. In the mornings we, Joakin, Echeva, Azca you and me, used to go fishing trout to Tampa Bay. You`d bought a second-hand outboard canoe that hardly started running and when it did, black smoke was all over.

In 1976 before the Tampa season was over, Echeva, Azca, you and me, decided to travel home by ship instead of taking an airplane. As soon as the season finished we went up to Connecticut stoping at Bridgeport Jai-Alai, their inauguration year. A couple of days in Hartford and then we embarked on the Queen Elizabeth II ship in New York. Oh, glorious days! Four days in paradise before we arrived to Cherbourg (France), then took a train to Paris and an airplane to Bilbao, ready for the summer season in the Basque country.

Those seasons were like living in some kind of paradise that at the time we did not realize (nostalgia again) being part of it just because we were young and young people just live life and do not worry about philosophizing.

Bridgeport came later. You married so did I, life went by after that. We chose different paths but even though we hardly saw each other we remained being friends.

So Sebastian "let me tell you something"... wait for me up there, in the eternity. I`ll go some day to get back "my umbrella", the one you never gave back to me. "Take back your umbrella"...you'll say and we again wont be able to complete the sentence because we'll burst in laughter but this time the Teacher won`t expel us from class .