37 years ago, John Benjamin Toshack (Cardiff, 1949) appeared on the cover of the first issue of EL MUNDO. The Welshman, then coach of Real Madrid, criticized his own players: "I've sweated more than some players on my team." Today, the former member of the best Liverpool squad and a legend at Real Sociedad, is back in the headlines because his son Cameron, with whom he collaborated on the sidelines for a while, said in the Daily Mail that his father had dementia. "Demented? Not yet," he tells this newspaper with a half-smile.
Toshack is sitting in the sun at the farmhouse he shares with Mai, his wife, in the town of Besalú in Girona. Dressed in a Real tracksuit, the former coach looks good, although his wife informs us that he did not rest well. "He fell asleep at two in the morning crying," she says about the concern caused by his eldest son's statements. "He hasn't seen his father in two years," she informs, adding that his siblings, Sally and Craig, also do not have a very close relationship with their father. To avoid further distress, Mai hides his mobile phone so that he cannot access more information about what is being said about his physical condition.
"Butragueño was the most concerned"
The Welshman has been in poor health for several years. This week he turns two, they say. Last Sunday they celebrated his 77th birthday and today, March 27, marks six years since he came back from the dead. "I was lucky to survive. The doctors told me that if I hadn't been an athlete, I wouldn't have survived," he recalls. He spent 16 days in the ICU in Barcelona, intubated and receiving oxygen continuously for COVID that almost took him to the other side. "The one who was most concerned during his process and who offered to accompany me in the worst moments was Emilio," Mai reveals about Butragueño, director of institutional relations at Real Madrid.
From that near-death experience, Toshack emerged with serious physical and mental sequelae. "I've forgotten all the goals I missed, but I remember perfectly the ones I scored," jokes the Briton, but admits that his short-term memory has been greatly affected. To the point that on many occasions he asks about his mobile phone, without any of the answers given by his wife satisfying him.
When he goes back in time, Toshack's face lights up. He remembers his time in Cardiff, the trial that Tottenham conducted on him and three teammates. "Only John Collins stayed, but then he didn't amount to anything," he points out precisely the name of the chosen one from an event that happened over 60 years ago. And he also easily recalls his beloved Real Sociedad, where he gave a debut to a certain Imanol Alguacil. "It's my team," he adds. Although it's needless to say, because, in addition to his tracksuit, Mai's leggings are also from Real Sociedad, as are several glasses in the kitchen.
However, he also doesn't forget his time at Real Madrid, of course. Successful and tumultuous in equal parts. It is as coach of the white team that he recites the phrases that would become international and for which, many years later, coaches remember him and agree with him. Especially referring to the following: "On Mondays, I always think about changing ten players, on Tuesdays eight, on Thursdays four, on Fridays two, and on Saturdays I already think that the same eleven bastards have to play as always." A phrase he recites before bursting into laughter.
"I'm no longer that spring chicken"
Toshack looks good, although his mobility does not allow him to take long walks. He no longer watches as much football as before and his life goes by quietly between waking up late, eating, a nap, a bit of TV, and going to bed early. The Welshman reminisces about his days off at Real Sociedad when he used to have coffee at Arguiñano's at 10, walk to Guetaria along the road, have freshly caught fish for lunch at the port, and around 5, return to his residence in Zarautz where "if you jumped from the terrace, you landed on the sand."
"I'm no longer that spring chicken," he paraphrases himself when he returns to the present with the same Welsh accent with which he arrived in Spain, causing laughter in his wife, whom he affectionately calls Nessie, because it was the endearing nickname of Bill Shankly's wife, one of his favorite coaches at Liverpool. There is no name from the past that Toshack forgets. However, he struggles to remember present-day footballers, although he quickly raises his eyebrows when he hears the names of Vinicius, Mbappé, Oyarzabal, or one of his pupils: Xabi Alonso. "I have trouble remembering current matches, but not the past ones," he points out.
During lunchtime, the former coach, between glasses of Coca Cola Zero, teases his wife about things he doesn't remember and then winks at the guests before bringing another smile. He enjoys a plate of risotto prepared by Mai and finishes with a cheesecake before a coffee, which she forbids him in the mornings. "You must have noticed who's in charge here," he takes advantage of her distraction.
Toshack is a good conversationalist and logical in his reasoning, despite the lapses in his short-term memory. His relationship with his children may not be the best. He explains that it's because he didn't want to disrupt their routine by moving them to a city where "they could kick him out in three months," and as Mai adds: "Familiarity breeds affection."
Throughout the day, he doesn't forget about his phone. "What have you done with my mobile, Nessie?," he asks insistently, with Willow and Claudia, two of his five dogs, by his side. "It's being repaired at the store," Mai lovingly replies.