Eight straight wins. Eight. I can barely believe the words as I write them. It was close – we nearly threw it away on the last day but just about held our nerve. Tonight Chur lifted the league title and secured promotion to the fourth tier of Swiss football and, suddenly, this club, this little club tucked between river and mountain, is the only side from the whole of Graubünden to reach that level. Uzwil had looked untouchable for so long. They were spoken about as if they were inevitable. Yet somehow we reeled them in. Somehow we caught them. Somehow we passed them.

When I stepped into this job I knew it would demand everything from me, but I never expected the hours to carve me open the way they did. Twice a week we trained, just two sessions each time, ninety minutes per session. It never felt enough. I would arrive at Obere Au long before the first player, pacing through ideas in my mind as if they would evaporate if I didn’t hold them tight. Those short windows of work became our whole world. Every repetition mattered. Every drill was sharpened again and again until my head ached from the intensity. I demanded so much from them because I was demanding even more from myself.

And when training ended and the floodlights died down, I refused to let it end there. I would walk to the local library-my second home now-and bury myself in analysis, tactical notes, conditioning studies, anything I thought might give this group of players an extra one percent. It became a ritual. Three hundred euros a week does not go far, but I felt rich in purpose. That mattered more.

I pushed everything else to the corners of my mind. I pushed Iker’s death so far back that it almost frightened me. Every day I thought, if I let myself feel that properly again, I might crack. I might stop. I might walk away. So I didn’t let myself. I filled every moment with work, with structure, with the comforting pressure of football. Success became a shield. And yet even tonight, amid the champagne, the noise, the shouts of joy from players who will be heroes in this region for years, I felt that small empty space I can never completely quiet.

No one expected this. Not in June, not in September, not in January when injuries piled up, not when Uzwil were flying. And certainly not me. I had done good work at Gernika, but this-this is different. We were supposed to be building, consolidating, surviving. Instead we achieved something extraordinary.

I am so grateful for the people around me. Kevin Nouchet has been more than an assistant; he has been an anchor. Calm when I was frantic. Rational when I was obsessive. He has helped me stay upright through moments when I felt stretched thin. And Marc Jaggi-I owe him more than words can express. He trusted me when I felt untrustworthy, believed in me before I believed in myself. His support, his willingness to give me space to work, his stability through hard weeks… without him we are nowhere. Without him I am nowhere.

The recruitment team, too, deserve every piece of praise I can give. They changed our season. Berisha came in like a spark, scoring eight and assisting two in twelve games. Always moving, always creating. Martinez added two goals and two assists in his twelve matches, clever and brave in tight spaces. Yesilcayir chipped in with three assists and a goal across ten, pushing us forward when the rhythm needed changing. And Jungo, still young, still raw, but those four appearances showed courage and intelligence. Every one of them contributed to this unlikely run.

Now the season is over, and the exhaustion is finally catching up with me. My body feels heavy. My mind feels slow. The adrenaline that carried me for months is settling into something softer. I need rest. I need stillness. For the first time in years, I will take some time away from football. This summer I will move out of Xabier’s house. It has been a sanctuary during a difficult period, but I know that to move forward, I must create new space. I have found a small place on the edge of town, only a short drive from Obere Au and the club offices. Quiet. Simple. Mine. I will return to Zarautz as well. I must. My mother is still ill, and she needs me. And I need home-my cousins, my aunts, my uncles, the shoreline, the smell of the sea. I need to breathe the air I grew up with and let the past settle into its proper place.

Tonight, though, before the next chapter begins, I am allowing myself to feel proud. Deeply proud. I look at this team, at this club, at this town that has taken me in, and I feel something stronger than happiness. I feel belonging. I feel purpose. The journey has drained me, reshaped me, tested me, but it has given me more than it has taken.

We have built something special here. Something rooted in hard work, community, identity and belief. 

And this is only the beginning.