Itralde, a 56-year-old lift engineer by trade and a lifelong fan of both real sociedad and fireworks, got the job done. “The announcer of the club is from the same city as Harnani,” he said. “He called me and asked if I would like to do so.”
By that stage, of course, the value of flares as a news source had plummeted: radio, television, and the Internet meant people in San Sebastian didn’t need to check the sky to know that their team had Had scored, or had won. Izagirre found it helpful if he was unable to watch a game, though perhaps a little unreliable. “If you’re in the kitchen and You hear a blast, If you have missed the other one, you cannot be sure.
This tradition’s appeal ended, however, not only because it was something unique to San Sebastian – “fans call it something that belongs to us,” said Inaki Mendoza, club historian of Real Sociedad – but Alcorta’s Thoughts due to simple brilliance: the perfect moment of suspense, hope and awe-filled silence between two bangs.
“When people are passing through the city on game day and they hear the first rocket, they wait for suspense,” Mendoza said. “And when they hear it, they resume their walk with a smile, as La Real has scored.” Izagirre described it as “a beautiful moment, where everyone is waiting”.
Since last year, however, fireworks symbolize something else. The epidemic has caused the Itirlad to change the way they do their work. He can no longer watch the game from close to the field in Anoeta, as the Reale Arena is locally known, quickly dropping down a tunnel to reach the road; Instead, he should sit in an executive box in the corner of the stadium, and navigate those stairs on his way.