“I dreamed of celebrations and public receptions, but I simply wanted to retreat to my room and cry.” When Real Sociedad were close to clinching the league in 2003, one player preferred being far away from people, alone if possible. Zuhaitz Gurrutxaga felt safest away from the crowd and the spotlight.
Recently, Zubieta welcomed him into the San Sebastian first team after rising through the youth academy. A central defender with a keen eye for goal, he had already donned the national youth team jersey during his development.
Yet upon reaching professional level, he began to struggle with anxiety rooted in a pronounced form of obsessive-compulsive disorder. He washed his hands dozens of times daily, feared contracting AIDS, and could not step onto the field lines. He would check the house and car door multiple times to feel secure.
A brave confession
In “Second Place,” the book he coauthored with journalist Ander Izagirre (Libros del KO), Gurrutxaga bares his fears without flinching. Few former players have spoken so openly about the pressures of professional football and the mental toll they can take.
He describes the fear of missing a penalty in a shootout, the dread of receiving a red card and not knowing where to go or where to look, and the impulse to avoid the ball entirely to escape the game experience. These moments reveal how anxiety can shape a player’s decisions on the pitch.
At eighteen, while representing Real Sociedad’s youth side in the Easter tournament final against Athletic, he faced the decisive penalty of the shootout. He recalls thinking that if victory depended on him, he would have preferred to finish second.
That sentiment captures a familiar truth many players feel but seldom voice. Gurrutxaga explains his experience without hesitation: training with Real next week felt impossible while pain lingered, even for something as simple as buying bread in 2003.
The book also emphasizes that anxiety and pressure are not confined to the top tier of football. Gurrutxaga joined Real Sociedad as a teenager and recalls the overwhelming sensation of stepping into the Real jersey. He notes that the excitement of representing the club was immense, yet the feeling of being overwhelmed began when he was just thirteen in the countryside.
“Klarimosto” march
Gurrutxaga reveals that he sometimes hid behind referees to sneak through matches undetected. During the U-17 World Cup in Egypt in 1997, he imagined returning home as soon as possible to enjoy time with friends at bars, a ritual that involved drinking a cheap red wine mixed with must. He explains that claret was the least expensive drink, and the addition of must turned it into a makeshift party fuel, a candid admission that adds humor to his memoir.
Born in Elgoibar, Guipúzcoa, in 1980, “Gurru” has endured difficult times but invites readers to celebrate life. He narrates his football journey with irony and sharp self-deprecation, showing that humor can accompany hardship.
His approach to life is summed up in a motto that permeates the book: those who know how to laugh at themselves can also evoke laughter in others. With the support and tact of Ander Izagirre, the story becomes a poignant journey into the inner workings of a footballer’s mind.
“Second Place” presents a paradox: anxiety gradually seized control of a career that seemed destined for triumph. Yet the tale remains engaging, honest, and relatable, inviting readers to smile even as they reflect on struggle.
There are lighter moments too. He recalls how the brand Kelme offered sponsorships by sending clothing boxes that were eventually shared with farmers in his hometown. He jokes that perhaps those packages contained items the company could not sell. A similar irony appears when the Spanish Federation handed him a national team tracksuit in Adidas products, red and yellow in color. He asked his mother to cut the yellow tape so he could wear the Adidas set in public, a small act of rebellion that felt liberating.
Beyond humor and self-parody, the memoir documents how OCD affected his life during what should have been peak years in football. He describes a fear of glue, bleach, polish, sweat, and other people’s blood, and notes that HIV concerns complicated his intimate life for several years.
Gradually, Gurrutxaga sought help from a therapist, and his path moved away from the top division toward the joy of football at a lower level. He enjoyed successful spells in the Second B with Zamora and Lemona, even coming close to promotion, and later played for Real Unión de Irún, the club that eliminated Madrid from the Cup.
Music and monologues
As time passed, he discovered a fondness for music that surpassed football. He formed a group called Vanpopel and embraced a bohemian lifestyle, touring many cities but earning little cash from music alone. He found greater success on stage as a stand-up comedian, recounting his football experiences in persona shows such as Football Player’s Self-Confidence, which resonated with audiences. He even performed in the Athletic dressing room during Bielsa’s tenure as coach.
In the end, the story of Gurrutxaga is not merely about sports failure or triumph. It is about resilience, humor, and the human capacity to adapt after grappling with anxiety and stigma. The man who once feared the field now uses his experiences to entertain and inspire others, turning a difficult chapter into something meaningful and entertaining for a wide audience.