Roberto Argüello, champion, Sampras sparring partner, rebuilt | OneFootball

Roberto Argüello was born in 1963 in the Rosario neighborhood of Echesortu, just a few meters from the School of Medicine and three blocks from the Bus Terminal, in the same area where Alfonsina Storni had lived 50 or 60 years earlier. His father, Roberto, was a metalworker, and his mother, Eduarda, a housewife; they married “later in life,” and Roberto was the couple’s only child. Argulín, as he was nicknamed during adolescence, started playing tennis at age four at the Remeros Alberdi club, across from the Paraná River.

“My parents played tennis, they’d toss me the little ball, and I’d run after it with a 400-gram wooden racket, incredibly heavy, I couldn’t lift it, and that’s why I learned to always hit with both hands. A coach at the club back then told my dad, ‘When your son grows up, people will have to pay to watch him play.’ My dad was taken aback: ‘What are you saying? Why?’ ‘Look: he lets the ball bounce once, twice, three times until it’s at waist height and then he hits it. He has judgment. The rest of the little kids just run around like crazy.’ He was right,” Argüello tells LA NACION from El Salvador, the Central American country where he has been working since October 2024 and where he managed to recover emotionally and physically after stormy times, when he felt he had “hit rock bottom.”

Argüello, in 1986: the Rosario native developed by striking the ball with both hands on both the forehand and backhand, an unusual technique he kept as a professionalArchive LA NACION

He won the Orange Bowl, for the under-14 category, in 1977. He won the iconic junior tournament again, in the under-18 division, in December 1981. Buoyed by the title in Florida, he felt ready to make the jump to the professional ranks, but in 1982, after being called up to the Davis Cup team, everything came to an abrupt halt: he had to complete military service, lost his ranking points, and put down the racket to handle a rifle. After a year, he started over, with few resources, and in his second official tournament, he won an ATP title: in 1983, in Venice. He reached No. 38 in the world rankings in April 1984. And he also played two ties for Argentina’s Davis Cup team, in the days of Guillermo Vilas and José Luis Clerc.

Naturally left-handed, he served that way, but had an unusual trait that over time was seen only rarely among professionals: he hit with two hands on both the forehand and the backhand. It baffled his opponents.

“Since I couldn’t lift my first racket, which was as heavy as a tree, I figured it out that way, holding it with both hands. I hit with my left, but my forehand I played with two hands, letting go with the right at the end, and the backhand with my hands reversed. A very strange shot, I know, but it was my best one. Too bad no one taught me to serve right-handed, because I would have had a right-handed serve and a left-handed one. That would have been an even bigger advantage,” smiles Argüello, who will turn 63 in a few days. And he adds: “There was an American player, Luke Jensen, who won the Roland Garros doubles with his brother Murphy [in 1993], who was right-handed but also served left-handed the same way. My game pattern was like a right-hander’s, but I served left-handed.”

Argüello on the cover of the magazine «Todo Tenis», alongside Gustavo Tiberti, José Luis «Batata» Clerc, Ricardo Rivera and Fernando Dalla FontanaFacebook/ArguelloDeOtraGalaxia

-Was it harder for your opponents to read your shots?

-Yes, it was a huge benefit. Also, with the spin and angles, having skill on both sides, I confused them. The only thing that hurt me a bit was my reach. But I was quick and skinny, I read the game well and varied a lot. The other guy had no idea where he was standing, I tied him in knots. They’d ask me which was my forehand and which my backhand, but I was never going to tell them, haha. By the time I was ten, I was already playing with the grown-ups and driving them crazy: I’d stall for time, go get the towel, dry the net, I never got upset, I was emotionally mature. I came with the chip already installed. I learned a lot by playing against the wall. Then I went to the Provincial club, where there was more competition—Gustavo Tiberti, Alejandro Novillo were there, the best in Rosario except Carlos Castellán, who was at the Jockey Club. I started competing in the lower categories and kept growing. By age fourteen I’d reached a high level, and in ’77, which was a great year because I won the Banana Bowl and the South American Championship in Caracas, the Orange Bowl was still left, but my parents couldn’t afford the trip. So, Atlético del Rosario, where I was already playing, organized barbecues to raise money for my ticket and a woman who had family in Miami arranged for me to stay there. I got there and spoke some English because my mother had sent me to learn it when I was seven or eight. I’d tell her, ‘What for? Buy me toy soldiers, toy cars instead.’ ‘You won’t regret it,’ she’d say. She had a special vision. Letting a child travel alone wasn’t easy. At twelve, they’d put me on the train from Rosario to Buenos Aires, I’d arrive at eleven at night, and Gerardo Wortelboer, who later became Davis Cup captain, would pick me up and take me to his house in Ramos Mejía. Then I’d spend Saturday and Sunday training at the Buenos Aires Lawn Tennis Club. In that golden era there was also Profe Belfonte; Dr. Horacio Billoch Caride, the club president, opened the doors to kids from the provinces so we could train. The best tennis players were there. Until I was 17 or 18, I could sleep at the club, under the stands; it was like my home.

-In 1979, at 16, you faced a big challenge when you played Ivan Lendl at the Abierto de la República, at the BALTC. What was the experience like?

-I was winning my first ATP points, I played the qualies, got through, and it was a shock. I drew Lendl in the first round, and he was No. 25 in the world. I said, ‘Damn! I could’ve drawn someone else.’ He beat me 6-3, 6-2, but I had an incredible moment. Everybody came to watch us, the court was packed. I served the first game. Lendl hit very hard, he was big. And I said to myself: ‘I’m going to serve-and-volley to surprise him.’ He wasn’t expecting it. I serve, come in to volley, switch hands, soft little touch, point. That was enough! The crowd exploded. I did it again and he returned it to the other side, but I switched hands again, soft little touch, point. I won all four points the same way, the crowd went crazy, but it was the worst thing I could’ve done, because it made Lendl mad that some kid was playing cute against him right off the bat, with no respect. But he settled down and beat me.

The newspaper coverage of Argüello’s title at the iconic 1981 Orange Bowl, in the under-18 category; he had already won it in under-14 in 1977Facebook/ArguelloDeOtraGalaxia

-What did it mean to win the Orange Bowl in the under-18s, before turning professional?

-It was a huge victory. At 18 it was my last time, I went in seeded No. 1 and I was nervous. I went with my teammate Alejandro Olmedo Zumarán, who passed away, poor guy, good kid. Our captain was Raúl Pérez Roldán, who didn’t pay much attention to us. I didn’t suffer mistreatment and he didn’t give us advice either: he ignored us, told us what time we played and nothing more. He was with his sons, I think there was a tournament in New York and he left before my final. Raúl had a split personality: with us he was friendly, but with his sons and wife he was very harsh, he’d hit them in front of us. A disaster.

-How did your career continue?

-After winning that tournament I was around No. 140 in the world. I was training with the Davis Cup team in 1982, the year of the Malvinas War, because we had to play France, which had (Yannick) Noah. The Tennis Association told me not to worry because they had found someone who would get me out of military service. Calmly, I went that weekend to Rosario to visit my parents. I arrived, settled in, and there was a knock at the door. It was a soldier. ‘Are you Argüello? Come with me,’ he ordered. ‘No, but I represent Argentina, I play Davis Cup,’ I told him. ‘You come now or we take you straight south,’ he replied. ‘Whaaat?’ I said. So my mother and father drove me to the gate of Battalion 121, there in Rosario. Me, all handsome, with curls, long pants... and I told my parents: ‘Wait for me here fifteen minutes, I’ll be right back.’ And I never came back! I had bad luck, because there was a lieutenant colonel who knew me, I explained the situation to him, everyone had short hair, and I said: ‘Look, in the next few days I have to play Davis Cup. Besides, the Association told me the matter was settled.’ He said: ‘We’ll see what can be done.’ He left me sitting off to the side waiting, but a little later four or five black military cars came in, with top brass, I was sitting on a little bench in the office, a general walked by and shouted: ‘What is he doing sitting there?’ They told him I was the tennis player and he said: ‘What tennis player!’ Boom, inside. They cut my hair.

Argentina’s Davis Cup team in the 4-1 loss to Ecuador in 1985, at the BALTC: captain Wortelboer, Miniussi, Bengoechea, Jaite, Argüello, Clerc and Profe BelfonteArchive LA NACION

-How long were you in military service?

-A year inside. That was at the beginning of the year and it was a blow. Back then, after winning the Orange Bowl, I would have had sponsors right away, probably exhibitions with Borg, Connors, McEnroe, Vilas... Winning the Orange was like being the future of world tennis, everyone put their chips on it. I could have entered the tour through the front door instead of playing Satellites. But I was stuck in Rosario, I spent forty days in a field doing training with other soldiers, sleeping in a tent. I couldn’t believe it. I went from a fantasy world in tennis to military service. I felt huge frustration and lost all my ranking points; the Association did nothing. But I fought through it. When I finished training they let me out some afternoons and I’d go practice and play some little tournaments. One day we woke up and they told us: ‘We are at war with England.’ I thought: ‘On top of getting trapped here, am I going to have to go to war?’ We didn’t know what would happen, we were terribly scared, we were kids, we didn’t even know how to shoot. And what they did was call up the previous class, the ’62s, and they gave us leave during the little over two months the war lasted. We went back home until the war ended and then I had to return to the Battalion. I wasn’t close to being sent to the Malvinas, luckily. Some time earlier, after winning the Orange Bowl, I had been invited by (Leopoldo) Galtieri to the Casa Rosada. I went, and so did Agustín (Garizzio), who won the 12-and-under category, and Gaby Sabatini. My mother and I went from Rosario, happy because we were being invited by the presidency, without really knowing what was happening in the country. Some people told me I should have used that visit to ask to be exempted from military service, since I had just represented Argentina and would continue doing so, but I didn’t see it that way.

After winning the 1981 Orange Bowl, Argüello (in jacket and tie) was received by the de facto president Leopoldo Galtieri; Agustín Garizzio (under-12 champion) and Gaby Sabatini also attendedFacebook/ArguelloDeOtraGalaxia

-You went through a drastic change in your life.

-Yes, absolutely. At the end of 1982 they released me and I started on the tour in ’83, which ended up being my best year. I married my first wife, Cecilia, and we had twin boys, now 37, one lives in Spain and the other in Rosario, fortunately they’re both doing well. My mother advised me to find a coach, and that’s what I should have done. But I started dating Cecilia, and her family wouldn’t let her travel unless she was married; her father was old-fashioned, let’s say. So that’s what happened, and we went out on tour with some money I had saved from a Topper contract, bought tickets, and off to Europe. We got to Paris and from there took a train to Lisbon to play the Portugal Satellite. The qualifying was very tough, there were players like the Swede who later coached Federer, Peter Lundgren, whom I struggled to beat in three sets. There were other great players too. And I ended up winning the tournament.

-And from there you went to Venice, where you won the ATP title?

-No. First I went through the Spain Satellite, which was nearby. I played the qualies, beat (Gustavo) Luza, and in the final round, against Ramiro Benavides, a Bolivian who passed away recently, I won the first set and if I won the match I wouldn’t be able to get to Venice, where I had already signed up. So I told him: ‘I injured my calf, I can’t play anymore.’ I gave him the match and had to get to Venice the next day, which was Saturday, to sign in. We ran back to the hotel and I left. We got to the train station half asleep, and from there took a boat to Lido Island, where the tournament was being played, around three in the morning, with our bags, rackets... We got off and there was no one there. Suddenly I saw a guy and asked him where there was a hotel, we walked a long way dragging our bags, got to the hotel, which was a good one, it cost more than a hundred dollars, there wasn’t another one. We went to bed at four, I slept two or three hours, signed for qualifying, played, and got through. I made the main draw and drew the No. 1 seed, Eliot Teltscher, who at the time was doubles partners with (John) McEnroe. When I saw him, I said: ‘Mother of God! All this sacrifice for nothing.’ But, well, I beat him in the third set. And that’s how it went, one surprise after another. I saved a match point in the round of 16 against Jaime Velazco; then against the Uruguayan Diego Pérez, who was very tough; the semifinals with a Frenchman, Bernard Fritz; and the final against an American who was a wall, Jimmy Brown. Winning an ATP title was thrilling, that’s when I said the sacrifice had been worth it. I immediately got more points and started getting directly into tournaments. A year later, I reached the semifinals in Nice, lost to the Swede (Henrik) Sundström, who then broke through and won Monte Carlo. I looked at the rankings, saw myself at No. 38 in the world, found myself in the same locker rooms as McEnroe and Connors and I couldn’t believe it. ‘What am I doing here?’ And it was like I said: ‘This is as far as I go.’ Unconsciously I set limits for myself, I settled. If I’d had a coach, he would have set the goal of being No. 20 in the world, improving my serve, my volley, going to this or that tournament, having a guide, a sponsor... I lacked direction. Besides, I still felt a huge sense of injustice over the military service. I came out of that like a wounded wolf, chasing even balls that were going out. But I never again had that mental strength from the beginning. I didn’t prepare the way I should have to take the next step.

At 14, before traveling to his first Orange Bowl

-You always went around the tour without a coach, except for a short period with Alejandro Gattiker.

-Yes, that was in ’85. It was very good for me, because at that time I had several very good wins. One against Aaron Krickstein in Geneva, against Noah in Barcelona... But the partnership lasted only a few months. I was his first player.

-How did you work out your strategy?

-Nooo, I was very self-taught. My wife helped me. Some coaches approached me, but there were few, I didn’t know whom to trust, I lacked people to advise me. I also didn’t have much money to pay them. Today you see players with huge teams; ours was all done by sheer effort. Even though players at my level, like Leconte, Wilander or (Thierry) Tulasne, would arrive at tournaments in Porsches. I’d arrive by train, looking for a cheap hotel with my wife. They had sponsors, loaded bank accounts, and I had just enough to get by. We even watched what we spent on food and traveled with the twins, who were born in ’89, near the end of my career [he retired in 1991].

-What was it like to face your idol, Vilas, for the first time?

-It was at the Republic Open in 1981. I got through the draw and in the second match I had to play Vilas. He came onto center court carrying something like 80 rackets under that huge arm of his. He was a star! I had seen him in ’77 when he won the US Open. Facing him at home was a dream. I was living under the stands, I walked out of the room, took a few steps and walked onto the court with two or three little rackets, two wristbands, and there I was in front of the beast. It was summer, at night, the court was full, the match was on TV, my heart was going at 200 beats per hour. I was skinny, I didn’t even have muscles. I thought: ‘This guy is going to kill me.’ And suddenly I started hearing my name from the stands; I couldn’t believe it. I had some reckless things about me and I said: ‘Vilas has two arms, two legs and a head, just like me. If I hit him with a drop shot, he’ll have to run.’ The match started, he served, and on the first point I hit a drop shot, he came to the net, I lobbed him with topspin, another drop shot and I won the point. That was enough! The stadium came down and Vilas had the vein popping out, he was furious, and it ended up being a great match that lasted more than two and a half hours. I lost the first set 6-4; in the second I was up 5-3 and 40-15, if I had won that set, maybe... but he beat me 7-5. I felt comfortable playing against a top ten player [the Poet was No. 6], toe to toe, with my own strategy, loose. It gave me confidence that I could go far in my career.

Clerc, Vilas, Alejandro Ganzábal, Argüello, Profe Belfonte and Ricardo Cano, the Davis Cup team that beat Italy 5-0 at Rome’s Foro Italico in 1983Facebook/ArguelloDeOtraGalaxia

-Vilas liked training with you.

-Yes, that’s true. For me he was an example as a player, in sacrifice, perseverance. He often sought me out to train. The thing is, I kind of avoided him a little, because his system was to arrive and do half an hour of crosscourt forehands. Half an hour of crosscourt forehands! You do ten minutes and your head is already burning. He’d finish and say: ‘Now half an hour of crosscourt backhands.’ Nooo! That’s how he trained. And after me, another player would go in. He had two or three players all afternoon, brought his food, spent the whole day on court. He trained standing still, worked on directions, repetitions... A bit of volleying. The serve, practically nothing. And he talked with Profe Belfonte, with Tiriac, tried his eight rackets, taking lead off one and the other, telling stories from his travels.

-You also shared the Davis Cup team with him and Clerc.

-Yes, of course, when they didn’t get along. I trained with one or the other, but they never did it together. Batata had a different personality: a little more open, younger too, more playful. For me the situation wasn’t uncomfortable because we were together on the team; it was uncomfortable between them. The experience of having shared a locker room with them in Davis Cup was fantastic. Back then the Cup was very important. It was three days of competition, the United States would come with McEnroe, and the stands were packed every day, horns in the crowd, people shouting when Guillermo did the Gran Willy or his classic backhand passing shot. I made my debut in 1983, in Rome, against [Francesco] Cancellotti, who was a very good player [7-5 and 6-4, with the tie already decided, for the fifth point in the 5-0 win over the hosts]. Unforgettable. I lived it very intensely, nervous, it felt like entering the Roman Colosseum, they threw coins at me, yelled all sorts of things. Beyond the differences, I felt good vibes on the team, with Profe Belfonte, Richard Cano, Tiriac. I also played some time later against Ecuador [in the first round in 1985, at the Buenos Aires LTC, where he lost to Raúl Viver; the tie ended 4-1 for the visitors].

Argüello, in 1982, playing on the center court of the Buenos Aires Lawn Tennis Club; for a long time he stayed in the dorms under the standsArchive LA NACION

-What famous personalities did you meet through tennis?

-Pope John Paul II. Several Argentine tennis players went to visit him at the Vatican. I felt as if I were standing before God. He asked me where I was from, I mentioned Rosario and he said he knew the city by name. In Monte Carlo, at the tournament party, next to me Carolina of Monaco was dancing and I was saying: ‘What am I doing here?’ I was with Guillermo Rivas and he told me to make a move. ‘Nooo, she’s a princess, she won’t pay any attention to me,’ I laughed. Besides, I think at that time there was already the romance with Guillermo... At Roland Garros, once, Batata invited me to dinner with Panatta, Bertolucci, Nastase, who showed up with a huge bodyguard, haha. We went to a place that was also a nightclub. I found myself eating at the same table and thought: ‘What am I doing here?’ They were movie stars. I had seen them on TV and suddenly I was with them.

-How did you decide to retire?

-I already had my children, we traveled with them when they were six months old. It was very hard to get to Europe, rent a car, settle into the room with all our things. I had been losing several matches 7-5 or 7-6 in the third. In August 1990 I won my last Challenger, in Geneva. I reached the final against Daniel Orsanic, with whom I had already trained and who was coming up. In the final I switched on, the magic came from everywhere. Orsa told me: ‘Come on, Argulín, I’ve never seen you play like this,’ haha. I beat him 6-3, 6-0, poor Orsa. But 1991 was a hard year, I separated, the kids were little, money had some influence too, it was hard for us all to travel together. I was already tired of traveling and I retired. I started playing interclub tennis in France, for Stade Français; I was the team captain and player. I was in Paris for two or three years. I married my second wife, Patricia. And with her I did my whole coaching stage. I was in Paris, the United States, Japan, Switzerland, Luxembourg, Germany, Kuala Lumpur, in short...

Argüello, in 1985, with the Argentine Tennis Association crest on his blazer, before the Davis Cup tie against EcuadorArchive LA NACION

-How did you end up working for the Japanese federation?

-Patricia and I joined Saddlebrook, near Tampa, at Harry Hopman’s academy. It was a country club with tennis and golf courts, where Álvaro Betancur [former Colombian player], whom I knew, was head coach. I was looking for work as a coach. I knock on the door of a house listed for rent, a Japanese woman opens it, she didn’t speak English, she looked for a piece of paper that said she had to call someone else. It turns out that woman was the president of the Japan federation: she had gone to that U.S. academy to look for a coach, didn’t like any of them, and was leaving the next day. That’s destiny for you! I called the contact, someone who did speak English, we reached an agreement, they made me an offer, and two weeks later I went to Japan. I lived in Tokyo. It was very interesting because of the culture, the food, which is one of my favorites. I worked with Miho Saeki, who was top 60 in the world. Then with Gouichi Motomura, No. 130 in the world. I learned some of the language. What surprised me most was the respect they have for elders. The elderly person is the one who has wisdom. Also the respect among colleagues, loyalty at work, many human values they are taught from childhood. To compete they lack Latin craftiness, but they are very hardworking people. They rebuilt themselves after the war with discipline. I was in Japan for a year, but went back and forth to the United States with those players. Until I settled in Florida.

-Was that when you were Pete Sampras’s practice partner?

-Yes! That was during that time. At Saddlebrook academy, with Betancur, he told me Sampras, who lived in Tampa, needed someone to train with. ‘Sampras?! Really?’ I said. ‘Yes, to be a sparring partner, help him a bit.’ Okay, I went. I shared several sessions with him, we played, it was a fantastic experience. He was very easygoing, he had just won Wimbledon in 1998. He didn’t move a foot, he played standing still. One day I asked him: ‘Should I move you around a bit? Volley to you? Do some drills?’ He said yes, I stayed at the net volleying, two or three minutes passed and he told me he couldn’t take any more. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ I said. ‘I just ate a pepperoni pizza’ (he bursts out laughing). What was I going to tell him? Not to do it? ‘Rest until you feel better,’ I said. We kept playing for a while. The next day we did another practice, there was a basketball court next to us, a little kid came with the ball and he said: ‘Roberto, excuse me, I’ll be back in five minutes.’ He went off with the kid to shoot hoops, haha. Then he came back and we kept going. A great guy.

Argüello’s distinctive technical style: «Since I couldn’t lift my first racket, which was as heavy as a tree, I figured it out that way, holding it with both hands»Archive LA NACION

-Later you coached Jennifer Capriati.

-Yes. With her father, Stefano, who was a difficult person, on court. I coached her in two-a-day sessions for about three months; I was happy. At 14 she had already reached the US Open semifinals. Then she had trouble with some thefts and was arrested for that. Later she was caught smoking marijuana. She had a lot of pressure from her father and exploded in a rebellious stage. When I coached her, I had red hair, kind of punk. We were about to go out on the tour and from one day to the next, her father told me no, that they were going to France, and that was that. Shortly after, she changed her look, won the Australian Open and Roland Garros [in 2001]. Something clicked and she became world No. 1.

-You also lived in Basel and worked at Tennis Club Old Boys, where Roger Federer developed.

-Yes. I was tired of traveling and settled in Basel. It was a small neighborhood club, Federer’s first coach was still there and Roger would show up from time to time. Once he came after winning Wimbledon. I still played pretty well, so I played doubles on the first team and one day I had to do it against [Stan] Wawrinka, who was already No. 25 in the world and was playing for a Geneva club. They came to the club, I had to play with a partner who was good, Yves Allegro [No. 32 in doubles in 2004]. I was fully fired up. The match starts, Wawrinka was playing on the backhand side, obviously, and when it was my turn to serve, I thought: ‘How do I serve to him? He’s going to kill me!’ I thought about blasting it as hard as I could, a cannon and that’s it. But he went pim, hit a down-the-line winner that Allegro didn’t even see go by. So I stood right on the doubles line and started serving to him at 20 miles per hour, sliced, low, and he started hitting them out. ‘What a shiiitty serve!’ he’d say, haha. We won the first set 7-6; then we lost 6-3 and 6-4.

Argüello, playing the 1986 Abierto de la República at the BALTC: he reached the semifinals, where he lost to Franco DavinArchive LA NACION

** ** **

After so many years abroad, Argüello moved back to Rosario. He lived through the pandemic in Argentina. But beyond the global plague, he found a work and emotional landscape far more thorny and jarring than he had expected. Doors were closed to him, he ran into obstacles. He struggled to find stable work. Projects that excited him fell through. And he sank.

“On the one hand, I reunited with my children, whom I hadn’t seen; it was a good reunion,” he confesses. “But I wanted to work at the clubs where I had played and basically couldn’t; the people from my era were no longer there, there had been changes on the boards, I made proposals to move forward with an academy and they gave it to another coach... I wanted to get into the Buenos Aires Lawn Tennis Club and couldn’t. I also had no contact with the Argentine Tennis Association. So it was a hard emotional blow. I felt rejected, unappreciated. I felt a lack of recognition. There’s a lot of politics in the clubs and it wasn’t easy. Still, I had work. What did I do? I’d grab my basket of balls, my racket, get on the bus and go teach in towns around the area. Timbúes, Álvarez, Granadero Baigorria...”

-How much did the situation affect you?

-I was in a very bad emotional state. I felt anguish over the lack of recognition for what I had done as a player. Now I value myself a lot and I realize I didn’t deserve that. But I had a really, really, really hard time. I felt like I had hit rock bottom. I went to a psychologist, people in my family helped me, Luis Pianelli also helped me [a well-known stringer for the Davis Cup team between 2005-2011 and 2015-2020, from Arroyo Seco, Santa Fe], but mostly it was me. I changed the chip and the way I lived. I felt like I was down match point, but I still hadn’t lost the match. I said I was going to turn the match around, and I did. I had the support of doctors, of the people closest to me (he gets emotional). I kept pushing upward and the energy started changing.

Nowadays, practicing in El Salvador

Roberto Argüello, rallying nowadays

-What made you react?

-One day, out of nowhere, Luis Pianelli contacted me because he had heard they were looking for a coach in El Salvador and that it was just right for me, between 40 and 60 years old. I was 61. ‘It’s for you! Call now!’ he told me. ‘You think so, Luigi?’ I didn’t even have battery on my phone, I borrowed one at the club. Usually, when you call about a job it’s very hard for them to answer right away, but here it was different: the federation director answered me, put me in touch with the president, Rafael Arévalo, Marcelo’s brother [No. 1 in doubles in 2024, currently No. 9]. Everything happened very fast, I started working and my life changed completely. I arrived with my suitcase, my racket and a huge desire to work. I didn’t even have decent clothes of my own: Luigi gave them to me. I told him: ‘Look, I only have old tennis clothes. Don’t you happen to have some extra sneakers?’ He gave me a lot of things and I arrived looking very sharp. I got back into shape, physically and mentally. My health improved. I play tennis, I swim. My life changed completely. I had to go through very bad experiences to appreciate the good things I have and have done. I grew as a person; I’m at peace with myself. Here they have an incredible national center, I earned my place, the coaches value me, but I always keep a low profile.

-El Salvador is not a country with much tennis tradition, but it did have a No. 1.

-Exactly. Ordinary people aren’t that focused on tennis yet, they’re still learning. But with Arévalo everything grew. I also served as an adviser to the Davis Cup team. Futures were held where local players I coached won their first ATP points.

Argüello has worked for the Salvadoran Tennis Federation since October 2024: he trains kids and also advised the Davis Cup team, where doubles player Marcelo Arévalo, former No. 1, plays

-What is day-to-day life like in Nayib Bukele’s country?

-It’s a very safe, calm place. I live near the club. I work in the afternoon and have the mornings free: I go to the gym, I have an orderly life. I’ve earned the respect and affection of the parents and the kids.

-Would you work in Argentina again in the future?

-For now I wouldn’t like to go back. My last experience wasn’t good. I had a very bad time both times I returned. Maybe around the end of the year, for four or five days, but not to settle there. Life goes around and I don’t know what will happen later on. I’m always looking for job opportunities. That’s what I’ve done my whole life.

Argüello, just days away from turning 63: after going through personal torment in recent years, he lives in El Salvador and feels fulfilled physically and emotionallyCourtesy of Roberto Argüello

-What does tennis represent for you?

-My passion. It allowed me to see the world, to have a different life. I had wonderful parents who let me travel at a time when there was almost no communication and sometimes they wouldn’t hear from me for a month, or only by letter. My mother had great vision; I know it was hard for them too, but it was worth it. I’m standing and ready to keep going down this path, every day becoming a better version of myself.

This article was translated into English by Artificial Intelligence. You can read the original version in 🇪🇸 here.