About these athletes
They were all 20 years old and 40 too. What did they do to stay on top of their game? Here are some secrets (and examples).
Germán Carty. He was 45 years old when he set his last record: being the first Peruvian soccer player to play in Primera Division at that age. The name of the club doesn't matter as much as his name, which was a synonym and guarantee of remarkable professionalism. Carty had already been a champion with Cienciano in the Copa Sudamericana, as well as the tournament's top scorer, with a physical strength that was not miraculous; it was education. He was always like that. One afternoon in 1995, when he had just signed with 'U', Germán visited his friend Roberto Aspe at his house on the way to La Balanza, in Comas. It was the midfielder's birthday and my dad, a friend of the player, also came to greet him. After opening a few beers, someone asked Carty the obligatory, classic question. "No, thanks. I don't drink," the forward replied. On the other side, the anti-heroes of scandal were already being built, so that phrase had the revealing effect of extraterrestrials. Let this fortuitous event, of which I was a witness, serve to understand what separates success from failure. And why Germán Carty always maintained the physique that any young player would have envied.
Sergio Ibarra. Only on the day that journalist Julio Vizcarra witnessed the Ice Bucket Challenge –pouring ice water over one's body for a global charitable cause–, El Checho was afraid. He shivered. But not before. Never. Not when he left his beloved Río Cuarto to sleep in a 2x2 room in Miraflores and was deafened by the Tarata bombing, nor when he faced his Boca in the final of the 2004 Recopa and shot "Pato" Abbondanzieri as if his daughters' beans were at stake. Only that impetuosity, that bulletproof vest tested against criticism and critics, made the unnamed guy who arrived in Lima in 1992 become the all-time leading scorer in Peruvian soccer as his ID card grew older. The record of records. And on top of that, he has charisma. And he studied to be a coach. He wasn't from 'U', Alianza, or Cristal. He wasn't from Muni or Boys. He was Checho Ibarra, a 200% professional who earned himself a place on the goal scorers' table of Peruvian soccer that now –with absolute justice– will never be erased.
Claudio Pizarro. Criticized for the goals he didn't score with the national team, Claudio doesn't even need to give interviews for everyone to talk about him. In Peru, his name is used to criticize him for the goals he didn't score with the national team; in Germany, it's used to recognize his longevity: at 38 years old, he was part of Werder Bremen's first team and did it with a professionalism that neither injuries nor lack of goals could extinguish. And as if it were an encrypted message, instead of saying "I'm returning to Peru," he states that he "wants to stay in Europe." Some call it madness. For others, less resentful, it's ambition.
Leao Butrón is 40 years old, performs amazingly in intense matches, has a family, and is about to finish a Master's degree in Sports Management. He's not the only example in Peruvian soccer, of course. But there should be many more.