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AGUSTIN ADARRAGA-ELIZARAN

I am finishing writing the stories describing the sporting achievements of 18 athletes in 4 generation, in 12 different sports. Only one page is missing. That is mine. It’s my story which will be my autobiography.

   This page will, logically, also complete the section of the Luis Adarraga’s daughter and sons, of the second generation: the Adarraga-Elizaran brothers. Writing that many siblings’ pages, I have, necessarily, repeated myself, somewhat. I could not avoid it as we all were brought up in the same atmosphere, with the same parents, discipline and routines and we all have logically common traits.

   Of course, there are some personal differences in how we expressed ourselves. I for instance, differ in my sporting abilities from my brothers who excelled as individual performers. I’m more like my sister Carmen. We excelled as team leaders. It’s more, after “hanging the boots” -–and before—I dedicated my experience, coaching ability and love of the sport to show it to others. See the story below. But before, I must make a couple of comments:

   Juan Adarraga-Elizaran, No 2 in the family, was an excellent cyclist and pelota (Basque handball) player but how he good could have been we will never know. While  studying engineering in Madrid, the Spanish Civil War broke out and he went to served with the nationals as a second lieutenant in Aviation.. Unfortunately, his life was cut short at 20, when his plane was shot down (1938) He was buried at the home cemetery. His accident is thus described:

The cold account of the death of our brother Juan by friendly artillery fire is in Spanish.

This is the English translation:

During the machine-gun firing at the "Casa de los Catalanes", close to the Ebro, next to the exit to the boats’ bridge that has been build and from where the resistance comes, it is shot down by friendly artillery fire that crosses his path, while flying almost at ground level. Both died. Vigueras that was flying behind in the formation, tells me that he saw them fall and crash on the ground. In the afternoon I'm in charge of collecting their remains.

The destroyed plane is on the right margin of the river. I collect both corpses and organize their transfer to Saragossa.

De "Cadenas del Aire". J.L. Jimenez-Arenas.
Editorial San Martin. Madrid ISBN 84 - 7140 - 0537

   Our mother Benita, a mother of 12, like a good Basque mother, lived sacrificed for the family, all her life. She would spend the day in the kitchen, assisted by two servants to feed the hungry mob and do the house chore... She would complain why we could dirty and tear so much gear.

   She was very keen in our religious upbringing. She would encourage us to attend daily Mass and have communion; to celebrate this or that patron saint and to pray the rosary after evening dinner. And at the home entrance door we had a sign: “God blesses large families”

    Her sporting activities were a 5 km walk with dad, after dinner, and walking to church and to the market. I never saw her take one step faster than the other.  She left that to us. She never ever watched a son compete (not even on television. Not yet discovered).

   She was a tall pretty woman, the eldest of 6 sisters (no boys). Dad was the eldest of the 5 brothers and one sister. Their own family grew by 7 boys and 5 sisters.

   Not all brothers were sports devotees. I must do a last comment about the family. All brothers and sisters were good at this or that sport but some were more interested in pursuing other activities. Only Carmen, Jose Luis, Juan Bautista, Bernardino, Agustin and Fernando pursued competition sports during the University years.

   Also, I’ll split my sporting life into 4 main sections to better describe what I achieved and where. These are them:

Hernani (Basque Country)
Madrid
Saragossa
Townsville-Australia.

Hernani: My home town.

   When I was growing, the “infrastructure” for competitive sporting activities was already laid down. My father, tío Pepe (uncle Jose) “Txitxibu”, my brothers, cousins and the numerous keen town followers, made up an excellent environment for sport practice and challenge.

   We had on Sundays the cross-country races, the soccer and team handball matches.  We also held regularly cycling races; in summer time, swimming in the Urumea river, in Elorrabi (at 3 km running) where we spend long hours swimming, diving and then pinching apples from the nearby orchards-- under the constant threat of a salt cartridge shot) to reload our depleted glycogen stores.

   And of course, we celebrated the San Juan festivities, where you could not miss the “carrera pedestre” (the cross-country race) the cycling race, and the many other organised games. And like my brothers and cousins I participated in everything, including the aurresku*, the sokamuturra**” and the maskuri-dantza***. 

   And like them I cycled to school, in San Sebastian (at10 km) every day, returning home fore lunch. This meant we cycled 40 km daily and if you make the calculations, you will find that, in the seven years of the Baccalaureate, we made the equivalent of twice around the world riding. And it wasn’t always an easy ride. We were always in a rush to get in time to school and we were challenging each other on the way back home.

   And let’s not forget, the fronton Eskerpareta, and later our own private fronton in the chocolate factory, where we played pelota during the summer holidays. We would sweat anything up to 3 hours a day and some times more, often under a blistering hot summer sun. I remember getting home (we had no plastic bottles, not invented as yet. Nor a tap in hand. We suffered our thirst as much as we could), after one of this sessions, filling the litre jug with water from the tap (fridge’s had no been invented yet) and drinking it in a gulp despite father’s advice: wet generously your wrists and face and then drink slowly in little sips.

    I also have to add to our sporting upbringing, the excursions to Adarra, Ernio, Peñas the Aya and others mountains, organised by the school or the family and took the whole day and had to dig deep in our physical reserves. Also the hunting, and mushroom picking and you start to get an idea of the intensive sport based life we lived. Add to it, that we inherited the good genes from Don Luis (father) and Doña Benita (mother) and you start to comprehend why the success of the Adarraga-Elizaran athletes.

   While in Hernani I competed successfully in school pelota, soccer and athletics and handball with the Club Deportivo Hernani (CDH) When I moved to Madrid, I continued playing handball, soccer and athletics but had to drop pelota (striking the ball with my hands made them swollen and they shook so much, to the point of making it difficult to performance well in industrial drawing) I switched to “pala-corta” but I had the same trouble. And I learnt to play rugby.

   “Los Ases en Zapatillas” (the “aces in sport shoes”) I like to make a point here. I think I’ll describe it better with an anecdote. When I was  living in Saragossa, the local newspaper started a new series under the title “Los Ases en Zapatillas” (The Aces in Sports Shoes) and the reporter interview me for the inaugural story. When I read the published story, it looked real good. I felt proud.

   When I went to the Veterinary School (in Spanish  “Facultad de Veterinaria”) for the days work, Dr Luke, the physiopathology professor (catedratico in Spanish) called me aside and congratulated me for the story. I appreciated his attention but then he looked straight in my eyes and asked me, Mr Adarraga, do you ever sleep? The question felt on me like a cold shower and I could no wait to read the paper again.  When I eventually did it and added up all the hours I declared I spent in physical preparation…? Luke was right. 

   I learnt well the lesson and I never ever made the same mistake again. It is true that we performed all the sports I mentioned above but not all of them all the time. Logically, most sports were seasonal and only occasionally did I play more than one sport in a day. I remember one exceptional case. I played handball (11 players) at 9:00 am. Half way the second half (we were winning comfortably) I retired to get in time to play soccer. And at 6:00 I played Olympic handball. After that effort I felt very hungry and tired, and sore for several days but recover in time for the weekend activities.

Madrid                                                 (back)

     At 17, I left my home town for the first time to study engineering at I.C.A.I in Madrid. I continued playing handball with SEU, and later with Plus-Ultra and soccer, alternating with I.C.A.I and “Colegio Mayor Cisneros” (University College Residence) I would play the league with one and the “Cup” with the other. I remember that one year I received both trophies.

I also play athletics for a while, until our Italian coach Mora decided for me. I liked to compete in pole-vaulting –before my brother Fernando joined in—and javelin throwing. But according to the coach my future was in running 10.000 meters. I did not like long distance running, too boring going around the same circle so many times, so I decided to quit athletics and concentrate in handball that I  liked and had a better future.

   Living at the “Colegios Mayores”, a few steps from the "Ciudad Universitaria" sporting complex was a bargain. From my room at the Cisneros, I could watch the tennis courts, the football, handball, and rugby fields, the basketball court and the athletics tracks. At one stage I shared a room with Juan Bautista and Bernar. Then changed to the nearby Nebrija where Juanba was the second director. This meant that we could encourage each other to go training. Not that we needed much encouragement! We loved it!

  First chance to be an international player. Captain Ortega, confessed me that he rung to my residence a few months earlier, to give me the good news that I had been selected, in the National Handball team, to play the World Championships in Berlin, that summer. But Juanba, who answered the phone, decided to ring father to ask for his permission, before telling me. Don Luis decided that  I had better dedicate my efforts to prepare for the exams and that it  would be better to keep it quiet. First chance to be an international player lost! Yes, it hurt me a bit!

   Indoor handball. The popularity of handball of 11 players decayed fast when a new handball game of 7 players “arrived” in Madrid. My team, Plus Ultra was selected to play the inaugural match of the new game. Captain Ortega gave us instructions of how to play. The match was played in the “Fiesta Alegre” fronton. I remember that the width was not up to standard but it did not matter.

   It is a very fast and dynamic game. I wished at the time, that handball were professional, so that I could dedicate to it in preference to my studies. But that would have been against father’s advice: he would explain to us: if you break a leg your carrier is jeopardized. And at best when you reach the 30s, you are finished. On the contrary, you can take you professional carrier wherever you go and the older you are the better they pay you.

   Today, indoors handball is a professional and an Olympic sport.

. Spain Wins Handball World Cup in Tunisia

    My team Iberia under manager Anadon. The Director of the “Teatro Principal” Anadon was the manager and he gained a sponsorship from the great pianist Iturbi (of Argentina). Here made great friends: The best was Alfonso Mateo Blanco, (an Oto-rrino-laringo-logist, now), that soon was challenging me for the best handball player position of Aragon. Others like Baturone, the son of Capitan General of the “VII Region Militar”; the Valdes, whose father, a surgeon attended me many times including after my rugby accident, when playing again the Medical School team, our biggest rival, I literally “broke” my head – I went head on onto a concrete bench. I was in coma for two days.  Dr Valdes generously attended me in his private clinic.

   Third time lucky I thought! When I least expected I had  a direct call from the National Rugby Association to communicate me that I had been selected to attend a fortnight Rugby camp in Madrid, under the guidance of a French coach, in preparation for the test match against the RAAF of England. This time I didn’t miss it. I don’t think my father new of it.

 Townsville. Australia

   When I left Spain I was 28 years of age and I was convinced that was my saying goodbye to my sporting aspirations. But in Australia, 7 years later, after overcoming the language barrier and settling in a comfortable professional position in Townsville, I was able to practice sports regularly but in a new one, squash.

   When I arrived in Australia, olympic handball game wasn’t known. While in Saragossa I was a  coach, and I thought I could introduce it. But the language barrier, and the pressure to find a suitable job, have to move around and made it difficult for me to teach sports regularly.

   After I settled down in Townsville to a posy position, and I was more relaxed, our family doctor, Joe Leong, decided that if I were a Basque I should be able to play squash and invited me to join his friends in their regular squash practice session. When I played it, it reminded me of my beloved “pelota vasca” (Basque handball) There were significant differences but I adapted readily to it. And in five years I was a top competitor and surprisingly, at “Open” level. I played my best squash at open level between 40 and 45. I was winning the Open and Master titles at the same Tournaments.

   But I was different from other players. Like in pelota, I was ambidextrous. I could use either hand, which with changing the racquet from hand to hand, gave me a tremendous reach and advantage. Interestingly enough, there were opponents that tried hard to play my back hand, as a good opponent must try: Where is your bloody back hand, some would angrily ask me, quite frustrated, after losing the match.

   I soon noticed that parents played the game while their sons and daughters, were watching. I thought I could reverse that and to do it I founded, with a group of enthusiastic parents, the “Jai Alai” Squash club, (which I translated as  “Happy Fiesta with Squash”) It soon  made a big difference to the game standard. In a few years Jai Alai teams, made up of junior and parents, were dominating the local fixtures and brought down the “Townsville Open Title” age by some 10 years. Some juniors won scholarships to the Australian Institute of Sports (AIS) and won State and National Australian titles. Some made Squash their carrier. My own son, Austin, become a renown international player.