In August 2022, Bruno Ricard invited us to eat at his house in Cerdanya.
Both he and María, his wife, were extraordinarily solicitous. They were so kind and generous that we will never forget that meeting. Brunito, his son, came to join us for the after-dinner meal. So, Brunito was already almost as tall as his father, but he was barely 17 years old. In the talk, the teenager began to share with the adults his university concerns and his professional desires.
We talk a lot about tennis.
Brunito knows so much about tennis that, at times, he made me angry.
(And that is not easy, modesty aside: I have covered dozens of matches and tournaments, I have been to Roland Garros and Wimbledon so many times that I have lost count, I have closely followed the careers of Rafael Nadal and Carlos Alcaraz).
While Brunito spoke to us, Bruno and María watched him carefully. At some point during the talk, the father told us:
–Brunito is passionate about sports journalism, he is worried about his future.
When they asked me for advice, I suggested to Brunito that he start training:
–Create a blog, build your brand, start training in your room.
(...)
Bruno Ricard, the father, died suddenly this last August. He was a wonderful communicator and a universally loved man and, for this reason, the other Friday, his friends promoted a meeting at the RCTB, an afternoon of tennis, paddle tennis and toasts to remember him with joy, which is how he wanted to be remembered.
The magnitude of the meeting portrays the magnitude of the character: I have never witnessed a tribute like it. Not everyone who leaves leaves behind such a trail of smiles and applause.
We came in hundreds.
Chance (or maybe not) wanted the meeting to coincide with Brunito's 19th birthday. He had barely seen him again since that after-dinner meal in Cerdanya: Brunito has grown, he is now as tall as his father.
It was cold and the wind was blowing that night outside, but none of the guests made any move to gather around. The cultural and social potential of the audience was outstanding, although that reality never inhibited Brunito. In front of the parish, and his mother, his sister, his uncles and grandparents, the boy grabbed the microphone and launched a speech of thanks that was as solvent as it was emotional.
He showed himself as a grown man.
So much so that at the end of the event he said goodbye to all of us with a tender and sincere hug, like those his father gave.
–See you soon, right? –She asked me.
See you soon, Mr. Brunito.
