He denounced a bribe, he was marginalized and had to quit football: now he preaches the gospel

Ah... those promiscuous essays full of voices under the incessant sound of the keys hitting the paper. It would not be a worthy place for journalists without the smoke of ever-dying cigarettes. Nor would it be without cold coffee with a languid aroma among full ashtrays, disordered notes and the renewed search for a title for a chronicle or for a prose that allows the reader to know what happened.

Yes, those writings by Olivettis or Remingtons, of linotype and smell of lead, of poetic journalists and rigorous proofreaders, of closures against the clock and “scope” editions (added last minute), coexisted with the loud consultation (“give me a synonym of...” or “what adjective applies to...”).

Of course, after the major sporting events in the country or the world, the editorial staff of the magazine El Gráfico (99 years of prestige, credibility and influence) vibrated on each of its desks. However, there was a non-sporting event that generated a state of shock for a long time; it was something exclusive, as important as a River-Boca, a Monzon fight, a Vilas final or a pole position for Lole Reuteman. And the issue was nothing less than an attempted bribery reported by a Ferro player named Alfredo Ortiz, who was then 29 years old and will be 80 years old next December.

This fact, written by my friend Héctor Onesime — about to publish a new book in Santiago, Chile — occurred on October 5, 1971 and was unprecedented in Argentine football. There were always suspicions and the popular acerbo, with that impunity that anonymity gives away, gave myths the status of “sold” to many unjustly singled out players. But the fact that a Primera player, known all over the world, appeared before the president of his club — Santiago Leyden, in this case — that he summoned emergency lawyers and that they all went to the 13th section of the Federal Police to file a complaint under proper names, had never happened. Much less during the management of the event, which would allow a legal and police strategy to be drawn up. The note said:

“He doesn't want merit badges or scrolls. You hardly feel like a dark soldier of something that can be called purity of sport. That is why Alfredo Ortiz prefers that this matter not take a personal turn, that praise not be made by raising his attitude to high levels, he simply wants — he almost begs — that justice be done. May those who splash the clean passion of football find their punishment. That's why he's not afraid of the cry of “button”. What is being “button”? Report a colleague, a friend, an innocent person, or ultimately a poor guy who has a moment of weakness? But to expose those who implement the public scam, those who traffic in the purity of the fan and with the efforts of the players, no, that is not being a button...; no, that is being simple, natural and logically honest. Nothing more than that. Nothing less than that! . . -

And Alfredo Ortiz was sure of that since he received that suspicious call from Daniel Szurmuk. That person who had long ago been a customer of his underwear factory — Ortiz and his family continue with that factory — who had strangely reappeared for his business to “commission an operation of 2 million pesos”. And although when he made his first consultations, he received an invitation to “don't get involved”, he was already aware of the attitude he should take. Even his wife's tender claim - that of then, that of today's Marie Antoinette Zingarelli after 57 years of marriage - could not break his decision. It had to be played, for Alfredo Ortiz it was more than an obligation, it was a necessity.

- Hello..! With Ortiz please. Oh! How is he doing. Look, I have to tell you something...

“Say no more, I hear it.

“No, what we have to talk about is something serious and I would like to see it personally.

“Well, it could be at my house or at the factory.

“It would be preferable at home.

“I have to do tomorrow at half past three, so three to a quarter I expect it.

This happened on Tuesday, October 5. When he cut off the phone, he was assaulted by the security that he wanted to tell him about the match that his team, Ferro would play on Sunday against Banfield, clearly threatened by relegation. He recalled his sympathies with that club in the times when they had more frequent treatment. And it was from that moment on he was thinking about the most appropriate way to act. Today, just like half a century ago, Ortiz remembers it the same way, with the same words:

— That Tuesday night we had to go to the birthday of a cousin of mine. We were at the party, but I kept thinking about it. At twelve o'clock in the evening I couldn't take it anymore and told my wife to leave. I arrived at Ferro's headquarters and when Dr. Leyden saw me, before I told him anything, he imagined what could happen. “If you come around here at this time, it's for something serious,” he told me. I told him about the episode and we immediately consulted with the club's lawyer. In principle, we agreed to see each other the next day in training to go to the police station and make the complaint. In the morning on the court I told Imbelloni (Mario, DT, former San Lorenzo crack of 46) and physical trainer Héctor Alfano, just so they were informed. As the president and the managers did not appear, we called the headquarters, where they told us that they were waiting for us there. In principle, the club's legal counsel said that it would be convenient for someone from the AFA to be among the witnesses, but the police replied that the case was in their exclusive jurisdiction. Two officers and a deputy commissioner came to my house and two other private witnesses were sought. They were hidden in the hallway of the bedrooms, separated from the living room by a sliding door.

Daniel Szurmuk arrived — the middleman, the manager of the maneuver — we sat in these armchairs and started talking. “You can imagine why I come. On Sunday they play with Banfield; there are two million pesos for Ferro's boys (about $50,000); now if it seems to you that nothing can be done we settle the matter and I will leave.” At that moment I felt sorry for that man and looked for an excuse (“I'm going to talk to a guy from the club”) and passed where the witnesses were. The police told me that if the money was gone, nothing could be done. And that we also ran the risk of being left without some evidence, as happened in the case of Yuliano, an endearing and remembered Temperley player who had gone through the same circumstance two months earlier. El Tano Yuliano — who no longer accompanies us — denounced the case and managed to get him arrested the 200,000 pesos by his bribers at the corner of Cobo and Curapaligue. A worthy man El Tano who won 100,000 a month as a waiter, very little as a player and denounced those who wanted to give him twice as much for a rigged match... For this fact, the AFA deducted 14 points from Nueva Chicago, a club in whose name the corrupt had acted. Returning to our case, Ortiz continued to recall:

- I came back and to disguise I asked my wife for Micó's phone (Miguel Angel, teammate and then DT). We agreed to see each other again the next day. I told him I wanted some club leader to come. We had everything ready again, but Szurmuk (the fan and friend of the Banfield leaders who had a business relationship with Ortiz) spoke to me on the phone, telling me that he was going to come because the leaders didn't want to. He caught me with someone telling me that it was Carlos Soler, president of Banfield, who told me about the impossibility of any of them coming. I insisted and they agreed that they would come. We waited, but no one came. The next day a similar situation, but the one who speaks to me - according to Szurmuk - is Mr Chassón, clarifying to me that it was compromising for them to come personally. Anyway, they promised again that they would come and didn't come. I thought they were unexpectedly suspicious but insisted on Saturday. I was already tired with so much trouble and quite a goatherd I said to him: “Look, if they come between two and half past two in the afternoon well, let's not talk anymore, okay? I also agreed to have Szurmuk come directly, who appeared at 2:25. I was bringing the money and the police had made it clear to me that when I said “money is fine”, they would intervene. I couldn't even tell about my nerves, until I don't know how I said “silver is fine”. The cops came in, handcuffed him, to his astonishment, and took him away. In the end Banfield and Ferro tied 1-1, Platense relegated and Los Andes and Independiente, surprisingly, won the championship against Velez — who had scored the entire tournament — on the last date.

The most institutional voices in football praised Ortiz's gesture. Among them is that of the AFA auditor, Raul D'Onofrio, father of Rodolfo, the successful former president of River. The gesture was discursively considered by everyone, but the historical reality was that “Pelado” Ortiz did not play any more in any club; not even in Ferro, because a few months later, given the precariousness of the place where the squad was being trained — the KDT — without glasses or hot water, he stopped training claiming to his teammates and the leaders in a more suitable place. From the next day he was sent to train with the lower ones. In the 69′ something similar happened to him for talking “a lot” in the locker room about the rights of the players... Maybe that's why coach Francisco Federico Pizarro took him off the team and replaced him with Abel Perez, right in the great year of Chaca champion. I still didn't have the weight of our day...

Alfredo Ortiz, reaching 80, enjoys his marriage to Marie Antoinette, his 4 children (Elisabeth, Roberto, Cristian and Yanina), his 11 grandchildren and even 1 great-grandson. It is these united heirs who take care of their clothing business and other commercial activities. The reason for its existence now lies in reading and studying the Bible. As an empirical Deacon, Alfred joins in discussing with other believers his encounter with Jesus, for which he - he told me - he was prepared. He does it in the church El Buen Pastor in Villa Pueyrredón.

Never did a player of his time show solidarity with him after the gesture of ponderable honesty. No one ever called him. Neither did any leader make him; they even required his opinion when in the world of football, the old bribe became a modern incentive. For Alfred, Tuesdays are days of prayer, Fridays are dedicated to the study of God's word, and Sundays are dedicated to the Gospel of Luke.

Football since then and until now, owes some ethical gestures. To Ortiz, an example of decency, the disciples abandoned him, like Jesus, at the last supper...

Archive: Maximilian Roldán

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