AND THE STRINGS RANG OUT...
— Alejandro Scopelli | 07/05/1943 —

Many years ago, in one of the many small houses that adorned the Avellaneda neighborhood, an entire family came to the front door to say goodbye to the gift of the house. "He will be a second Paganini," the aunts said, and smiled satisfied. "If only I could be like Canaveri," the kid stammered between his teeth, heading, grumbling, towards the music teacher's house. She went through the same thing as always. A family that makes projects and the crossroads of destiny that is responsible for undoing them. This crossroads started from the corner of Mumo's house and crossed the neighborhood pasture, where the kids sharpened their tamangos when leaving school. He crossed this place almost at a run so as not to be tempted and disappoint his aunts. One night, before putting him to bed, they painted his future. They placed him on top of a stage, with spotlights that highlighted his figure and before a select and numerous audience that followed in ecstasy the melody that he extracted from his violin whose notes seemed to fall off the strings like the dew drops that the poet sang so many times. And they painted all this so well that for a moment he stopped thinking about Canaveri, and caressed the violin. But he couldn't of what happened next be.

Little by little his passage through that pasture became more leisurely, and one day he stopped without meaning to. His friends looked at him in amazement. They didn't dare to invite him until finally one of them uttered a phrase that perhaps had been cherishing inside him for a long time. "If only you studied to play tangos." Another took the box to find out how much it weighed and casually said: "Why don't you play? We're missing one." The blame lies exclusively with destiny. The violin case indicated one of the arch posts and Paganini's ill-fated emulator ran after the ball, without remembering the stage or his aunts. He was saved from being sent to the goal, because he was very small. They put him as a leader and he thought: "Better, like Canaveri." How nice it was to kick against the box that the fence pointed to!

"Palo y adentro", shouted the kids and the strings inside sounded the funeral march of a truncated hope. And so was the beginning of what was later to become the most celebrated of the world's outside forwards: Raimundo Orsi.

But he didn't completely let the family down. He showed that by all means he is going to Rome. He was famous and enraged the masses. He changed, yes, but his popularity on stage and among the public grew. Instead of striking the strings of his instrument with his bow, he struck the strings of his rival's bow with his formidable shot. And he satisfied a hundred different audiences. I don't know what the aunts thought of this, but seeing the results obtained, I am sure that we all win. He seemed to carry dynamite on his tiny legs and was a constant danger to the opponents. He belonged to the category of the "exceptional", those who are so scarce. We had seen each other for a long time. If it weren't for those gray hairs that recklessly gallop over his temples, he would say that he is the same as always. He talks just as he played, quickly and stopping after every four words. Let's read what Mumo tells us:

Orsi: I started playing for "Independiente", in the lower divisions, and I belonged to this club until my departure for Italy, in 1928. In 1921 I played my first international against the Scots, who brought a fairly respectable team. Then I participated in the South American Championship in 1927, in Peru, and in 1928 I participated in the Olympic Games, held in Amsterdam. What a beautiful time of football that was!

— Regarding this championship, what is your opinion of those two final matches played against our classic rivals from Plata?

Orsi: Honestly, they were two contradictory results. In the first match, which we tied at 1 goal, the Uruguayans deserved to win. On the other hand, in the second, which we lost 2-1, the victory should have gone to us without discussion, despite the fact that several of our team were injured; among them Nolo Ferreira, who had to play with a woman's corset.

— You were one of the first to head to Italy, right?

Orsi: It's true; the third, to be more precise. I couldn't play until the 1930, because Independiente didn't want to grant me the transfer. With Juventus we were champions five consecutive years, and I had Tano Cesarini and Luis Monti as teammates. It was a formidable team. The memories I have of that country are not easy to describe. Furthermore, my two children were born there, and that is one more reason to remember Dante's homeland with affection.

— In the 1934 World Championship, when you played for the national team, which rival seemed the bravest to you?

Orsi: Spain was fearsome, and luck favored us there a little; but for me, those who always made us sweat blood and who I will consider as the best football players in Europe, after the English, were the Austrians. What an overwhelming machine with perfect technique, that Wunderteam, which Hugo Meisl trained! They had a full-back, Sesta, who was my black shadow. Imagine that he was also a player, a wrestler and an acrobat, and, as if to contradict those two conditions that made him appear as a rude man, he sang like a nightingale. While he played, he always hummed something, and what made me most angry was when he would take the ball away from you singing.

— Were you always selected?

Orsi: I played 45 international matches, and the ones I remember with the most emotion are those against the English and the final match of the World Cup, when we considered ourselves lost and I scored the tying goal from 40 meters. The English are difficult to beat. Do you remember that morning we saw James training and we thought he was the canchero? When he left the field I followed him to the locker room and watched what he did. He got into three bathtubs with different liquids and, after going through the massage table, he lay down, waiting for the reaction. He then returned to the tables, and when they released him he was already a different man, capable of playing another match, despite having done so the day before. How do they know how to keep a player! Such a procedure will have to be reached in Buenos Aires.

— Speaking of the English, what happened to you that time when you ran over the London goalkeeper?

Orsi: Don't even say it, please, Conejo. Those things are better not to remember. It seemed to me that the ball was slipping out of his hands and I ran towards him. I felt like I had hit a rock. When Guaita woke me up laughing, I asked him: "Did I hit the post?" "What post?" the Indio told me. "You went against the goalkeeper." I didn't come any closer for the whole match.

— Which player impressed you the most in your long sports career?

Orsi: It's a little difficult to answer, because I saw many good ones. Sindelar, Sárosi, Nolo, Cherro, Meazza, seemed magnificent to me; but I have a special admiration for Quincoces, the incomparable Spanish full-back. Among the teammates I had, no one surpassed Seoane, and our best era was the one in which Indpeendiente had one of the best forward lines in Argentina: Canaveri, Lalin, Ravaschino, Seoane, and the one who parla.

— You were right to say "one of the best", because if we weren't going to fight, and you know why, Mumo...

Orsi: I know, Conejo. You don't need to name it; but you know well that I respect your opinion as you respect mine. We are not going to argue about that, and, speaking of forwards, I am going to tell you an anecdote that, although it is known, does not lose relevance. You know that I have always lived in Avellaneda, which at midnight and on some streets becomes dangerous for traffic. One night blacker than the soul of a usurer, I was going home, when someone, hiding behind a tree, gave me a "Stop!" that chilled the blood in my veins. To myself I said, "I'm ready." "Who are you?" he asked me, perhaps out of fear of assaulting an acquaintance. "Raimundo Orsi," I answered in a dull voice, giving him the full name just in case. "Orsi, the one with the gold line?" "The same one," I shouted, seeing myself saved and forgetting modesty. Ten minutes later I was in a nearby bar having a drink with that malevo and chatting about the glorious Independiente, as he called them. He accompanied me to the door of the house and, when I said goodbye, he assured me: "Come back calmly every night, that nothing will touch you." And from that moment no more ghosts crossed my path.

— Look how lucky you were. If instead of being the one of the golden line you are the concert violinist, he would eliminate you without further formalities. Did you return to that Independente when you returned from Italy?

Orsi: Yes I played the 1936 season, and then I went to Boca Juniors and Platense. Later I went to Brazil, hired by Flamengo, and when I returned, they offered me the Rosario Central team, to train in the last 4 rounds of the championship and when their salvation was almost impossible. All in all, I achieved good results, since we beat the Boquenses and tied with the Santos de Boedo, losing by the minimum scorer against River and the pincharratas. Other occupations absorbed my time and I had to stay away from the grounds.

— Under what conditions do you come to Chile?

Orsi: I still don't have anything resolved. When Tano Cesarini returned to Buenos Aires he let me know of the offer from a Santiago club. Later there was an impasse, motivated by a person (who is not in Santiago) determined to harm me, and when the truth was known they praised me again. Since I had to come to Chile in any way, due to private occupations, I took advantage of the opportunity to put a definitive end to the matter. We'll see how it ends. Frankly, I like the atmosphere, and I would gladly stay.

— What impression did last Sunday's game leave you?

Orsi: Quite satisfactory, and the Audax team was the best of the afternoon. Good defence, a centre-half who knows what he's doing and a forward line that doesn't mess around. I also think that Colo-Colo, when it performs with all its starters, will be a powerful team. From Santiago Morning the most dangerous are Batisttone and Romo, while in defence there are very good individual values, but they fail in the team game. And, for now, Conejo, enough. It's 6 in the afternoon and I don't want to miss the Santos party.

— Did you come in for that already? May it go well for you, Mumo, and may your situation be decided soon. Something tells me that one of these afternoons I will see you again running after a ball. If you decide, I'll give you some advice. Dye the gray hair that silvers your temples. You will be like that again, if only in your imagination, that kid who made the funeral march sound, with a measured "palo y adentro."