Héctor Scotta: “Los defensas se asustaban al verme en la barrera” | Sevilla FC | ABC de Sevilla

Seville, Spain – Héctor Horacio Scotta, the Argentine striker who captivated fans with his goal-scoring prowess in the 1970s, recently revisited his time with Sevilla FC, sharing a trove of anecdotes that paint a vivid picture of a bygone era of football. Now 75 years aged, Scotta recounted stories ranging from terrifying opponents with his free kicks to a week-long illness suffered by teammate Daniel Bertoni, all sparked by a questionable meal of chorizo and pig’s trotters.

Scotta, known affectionately as “Gringo,” reflected on a time when fear was a palpable element of set pieces. “I quickly realized that players in the wall started to get scared,” he said, as reported by ABC de Sevilla. He recalled one instance where he had to assist Barcelona’s Asensi after a particularly powerful free kick. “It hit him in the stomach and he collapsed, gasping for air. I had to get him on the ground to relax. When we played in Catalonia, he told me before the match, ‘Today, I’m not getting in that wall, no way!’ He said the Adidas logo was imprinted on his stomach for days.”

The Argentine forward’s dedication to perfecting his free kicks was legendary. Scotta and Sevilla teammate Paco “Súper” Herrera would routinely practice after training, wagering beers on their accuracy. Scotta attributed his power to a heavier ball used in Argentina, known as “La Pintier,” which is no longer manufactured. “When I arrived in Spain and saw how light the ball was, it just flew,” he explained. “But Súper was very solid, he saved a lot of them. He was a great guy in every way.”

Beyond the pitch, Scotta’s time in Seville was filled with memorable, and sometimes bizarre, experiences. One story involved a train journey to San Sebastián and a startling revelation from Herrera. “He suddenly told me he had a shotgun in his suitcase,” Scotta recalled. “I didn’t understand anything. Superpaco started talking about terrorism, ETA, and how he wouldn’t let anything happen to him. I never saw the shotgun, but he was convinced. He even said that when someone knocked on the hotel door, he’d tell them to slide identification under the door before opening it. What a character he was! He’d say, ‘They’re not going to catch me.’ I told Bertoni about it, and he couldn’t believe it.”

Scotta’s adventures weren’t limited to potential firearm encounters. He recounted a seemingly innocent trip to a local bingo hall with Bertoni that resulted in a stern reprimand from Sevilla’s president, Montes Cabeza. “I went with Bertoni to the Hotel Lar, and there was a bingo hall downstairs packed with people, even Isabel Pantoja was there. We stayed for a bit, nothing more. But the next day, the president called me and said, ‘Scotta, if you go back to that bingo hall, I’ll take all your money. I’m tired of hearing people say they saw you there.’ I told him I had permission to go out on Mondays. That was the end of it. The following Monday, I went with my wife and kids to dinner – fish, something quiet. But the next day he called again. I was prepared to tell him that if they said I was at the bingo, they were lying. But no, he was referring to dinner. He found out everything. After that, I only went to team meals… well, some of them. I definitely avoided the ones organized by Juanito.”

Perhaps the most memorable anecdote involved Bertoni falling ill after indulging in local cuisine. “Bertoni was bedridden for a week! At my house! He wouldn’t listen to me. One day he came and said, ‘Gringo, Juanito invited us to eat *potaje*.’ I told him no, that I didn’t think it was a good idea, that he wasn’t used to that kind of food. But he went… and got terribly sick. He ate chorizo, pig’s trotters… and we had to take care of him. We place him in my house for a week. His wife was pregnant, about to give birth, and they left him with me. He couldn’t even get out of bed. Doctor Leal Graciani came every day. He lost several kilos. I lost some too, but in my case it was normal, not because I was sick. Carriega, the coach, was always surprised during pre-season: I’d arrive three kilos lighter. I took good care of myself. Though, after that, the first training sessions were tough. I remember once we went for a run in the Alcalá area and I got lost. The others were used to climbing the mountain, but I stayed halfway. I had to flag down a car to take me back to the hotel. I told the driver I was a Sevilla player… and that I was lost.”

When asked if he had more stories about his time in Seville than even Diego Maradona, Scotta responded with reverence. “Diego! The best in the world. It was wonderful to see him play for Sevilla. When I returned to San Lorenzo in 1981, in a match against Boca, he asked me before the start if he could trade jerseys with me because his father was a San Lorenzo fan. It was a great honor for me. Those were different times. It’s amazing to think that I, who became an Adidas image, had to paint the three stripes on my boots with a brush and white paint because the kit man would apply shoe polish and they would darken.

He also fondly remembered playing against Johan Cruyff. “Another great player, one who always kept you on your toes. I remember once he tried to do a bicycle kick on me and ended up on the ground. It wasn’t intentional, but you had to defend, especially when playing for Sevilla. I have many memories in my house. In 2018, when I was recovering from cancer, some San Lorenzo fans who make murals painted me on the patio wall next to the club’s crest. I went down slowly, because I was very ill, and I told them, ‘Can you also paint the Sevilla crest?’ And they did. Now I have both of my clubs with me every day. Sevilla gave me everything. Everything I have, I got from Sevilla. I didn’t make money at San Lorenzo, but in Spain I was able to buy my house and another one that I rent out. Sometimes I tell my wife to sell them and let’s go live in Seville. Any day now, I’ll just up, and go.”

For Scotta, the legacy remains one of a more intimate, unpredictable, and human football. And also, a bond that hasn’t broken after so many years: that of Sevilla and its people. Here, ‘Gringo’ will always have a home.