Álvaro Recoba didn’t rewrite record books. He just made you gasp. A left foot kissed by the gods, a career built on moments you’ll never forget. This is El Chino.
El Chino was an artist who worked in moments, not seasons. There’s an expression in football that coaches love: “Don’t stand admiring your work.” They want you to keep going, to do more. But Álvaro Recoba’s work was so brilliant that he couldn’t help himself. In truth, nor could the coaches. He made everyone who watched him at some point say, in disbelief, “Did you see that?”
Recoba didn’t win a Ballon d’Or or a World Cup. His figures, taken at face value, aren’t spectacular. But if you saw Recoba in the flesh (or live on TV), he was a player whose genius you’ll never forget, a footballer you recall whenever a current player does something special. Recoba, even now, remains a reference - like a name passed down in reverent tones, a ghost of inspiration flickering behind every audacious long shot or outside-of-the-boot pass.
On 31 August 1997, Inter gave Ronaldo his debut, and the world tuned in to see the greatest player on the planet play in the toughest league. But it was another debutant - a skinny kid from Nacional coming on as a late sub with Inter chasing the game - who brought gasps from the millions watching, with not one but two thirty-yard screamers to win the match. That night was supposed to belong to Ronaldo. Recoba stole it.
Recoba struggled with consistency (how can such brilliance be repeatable every week?) and was eventually loaned to Venezia, where he again showed he was undoubtedly one of the best players on the planet. Inter, convinced he could be a star in black and blue, made him the highest-paid player in the world. Accusations of a fake passport surfaced, and Recoba immediately lost the Italian nationality he had just received. But such was always his way; from the sublime to the ridiculous.
The biggest individual accolades are now awarded to serial winners in any given season. If you want to know who’s had a great year, it’s easier to check Wikipedia than actually watch the game. Recoba came before that. He was the left-footed kid you saw on the pitch as a teenager who was too good, who you were sure nobody, anywhere, could be better than.
Recoba took what was natural to him and showed it to Uruguay and to the world. He was his talent, not his labour. He played football as if he were discovering it in real time, making the ball do things it didn’t know it could. Whether in the stadium or watching at home, he made those who saw him stand up from their seat in disbelief again and again.
Álvaro Recoba, truly, was one of one.
Words by Lee Kelleher