A little after 9am in Montequinto, Seville, and Jesús Navas walks past the Jesús Navas Stadium and up the little slope in the sunshine, gym to the left, training pitch to the right. The first to arrive and he’s moving OK this morning, which isn’t something he can say every day, but still he comes. Soon, too soon, he won’t. “It’s my life,” he says, “what I’ve always done, who I am.” The stand bearing his name wasn’t here when he first turned up, a quarter of a century ago. Most of this wasn’t; the trophies at the Estadio Ramón Sánchez Pizjuán, three miles north, certainly weren’t. Everything changes, except him. “I’m the same as the first day,” he says.
That day, Navas was 15, a small, skinny, shy boy from Los Palacios, 15 minutes south. It was 2000 and he has been coming almost every morning since, apart from four seasons in Manchester which he enjoyed more even than you might imagine. He is still small, slight: 5ft 7in and 67kg. Still quiet, too: warm company, but not a man with any desire for the spotlight, any delusions of grandeur. Only he is the grandest footballer of all here at Sevilla Fútbol Club.
Navas is the Spanish national team’s most-decorated player and there is a reason his name is written large where he used to train and the B team play, however strange it feels to him passing each morning: because it is written all over Sevilla’s history too. The most significant player in their 119 years, symbol of their academy and their success, their entire model. Navas played a record 393 games for Sevilla – my Sevilla, he calls them every time – left because they needed him to, came back and played 311 more. He has just one left.
On Sunday at the Santiago Bernabéu, Navas will play his 982nd professional game; aged 39, it will be his last. There has been something comfortingly familiar about him, always there, but he will depart for the last time and on Monday morning he won’t be back at Montequino. “It’s hard,” he says sitting in the players’ area, which hadn’t been built back then either. “It’s difficult for me. I still can’t imagine it. My whole life has been spent doing what I most love. And now …” There is a pause, a look. “But in the end, it’s a question of health.”
Over four years, Navas has suffered. He has an arthritic hip which hurts when he plays, when he trains and when he walks, which some days he can’t. He continued in silence, playing longer than anyone imagined and than he should have done, but can resist no more. “I’ve put up with the pain for four years and this season has been even harder, madness,” he says. “These last six months have been very, very hard. After games it’s difficult to walk. It’s purely physical: I’m stopping because I have to. I’m happy with what I’ve achieved.”
What he has achieved is everything, nostalgia and melancholy in the memories, gratitude in the long goodbye, announced last summer and concluding this weekend. Navas says his best battles were with Roberto Carlos and it’s not that the Brazilian has long since departed; it’s that his successor, Marcelo, has been and gone too. He says the footballer he most enjoyed playing with, his best friend, is Fredi Kanouté, and Kanouté retired 11 years ago.
Asked for a moment from the many he has made, he chooses someone else’s goal, which is like him: with the clock showing 100.07 in the semi-final of the 2006 Uefa Cup against Schalke, his cross reached Antonio Puerta, who scored the winner, changing their history and their future. Puerta, whose shirt number Navas wears, collapsed on the Pizjuán pitch in August 2007, dying three days later.
When Navas made his Sevilla debut against Espanyol two days after his 19th birthday in November 2003, they had not won a trophy for 55 years; he has won eight of them. By the time he left for Manchester City in 2013, he had already played more games than anyone in the club’s history, had scored in a Copa del Rey final and lifted two Uefa Cups, the competition around which Sevilla’s entire identity became built. And still he wasn’t finished.
He returned from Manchester with a new position at full-back – “ideal”, he calls it – a Premier League title and two League Cups. He had scored in the 2014 final and in the shootout two years later. He returned with a fondness that’s clear too, continuing when the tape stops. Yet for Navas more than anyone, there was nowhere like home. “The Pizjuán,” he says. Apart from the Pizjuán? “I, er … I wouldn’t know what to say.”
So he came back and carried on doing what he always had; different position, same Navas. He lifted two more Uefa Cups, his crosses creating goals in the 2020 and 2023 Europa League finals. Captain in Cologne and Budapest, when he lifted the trophy for the last time it was 17 years since the first.
Fourteen passed between his first and last with Spain. He won the Euros in 2012 and 2024, and the World Cup in 2010, the greatest moment in the country’s history beginning at his feet. It is one he admits watching every two or three days but couldn’t imagine even then. “All I was thinking was getting to the other end as fast as I could.” That’s it? “That’s it.” He smiles. “It’s what the manager asked,” he says; it is what he does too. Three opponents trail behind, defenders appear either side like a sequence from Captain Tsubasa, cartoonish and comic, and he just keeps running. “And then … well, it’s the greatest thing that can happen to a kid who loves football.”
The boy who had anxiety attacks, who literally couldn’t leave home, went round the world and won it all. That he even set off was something; that he went to Manchester seemed impossible, it might as well have been Mars; that he was there in South Africa had taken care and conviction, support and strength. Navas had missed the Under-20 World Cup in 2005, had to abandon his first pre-season with Sevilla, coming and going to Huelva from home while the rest stayed in the hotel, and his full international debut was delayed until November 2009, when he had fought his way through and the conditions had been created for him to feel able to join them.
“That first big leap came so fast,” he says. “I arrived at Sevilla at 15 and in two years I was playing in primera. For a simple kid from a small town, it was a drastic change. We’re people. On the pitch, everything was OK. But I assimilated it all bit by bit. And I have been able to enjoy football: it has given me life.”
There’s a toughness in the timidity. You’re a hard man. Navas’s response is swift, definitive: “Yes.” “It’s mental. Physical, too,” he says. “To put up with all this pain. After games it is hard to walk but here I am.
“Manchester was wonderful. Going wasn’t such a hard decision [as it seems]. Sevilla were in [financial] difficulty, that appeared, and I didn’t doubt. I wanted the challenge, to be able to say: ‘I can. I’m strong.’ What I suffered back then tested me. I wanted to grow in every way. There was a human side, a tremendous growth. The Premier League is incredible: the speed is unique and I wanted to experience that. Also, the lifestyle didn’t change really: I train, I go home. It was harder for my wife; our son had just been born and she came back every so often. But football was all I was looking for and it was incredible.”
Navas returned from City in 2017 after four seasons, 183 games, and, aged 32, supposedly nearing the end. Pep Guardiola later admitted he had let him go too soon but he understands the decision and so did everyone else. He had a season left, maybe two. It has been eight. Two more Uefa Cups. A return to the Spain squad five years later, the only man from that generation playing with this new one. “That’s the way I live; every day I want more. I never settle for anything.”
There’s that edge again: there is something in Navas’s career, his style, that speaks above all of insistence, relentlessness. Quiet he may be, but he is a competitor. “A [then] 38-year-old who trains like an 18-year-old,” Spain’s captain, Álvaro Morata, said in 2023. Navas says: “When I was in Manchester I went four, five years without being called up. Every Friday the squad was named I would be watching, waiting, hanging on the announcement. That was really, really hard. But I always held on to that hope. You keep going, keep hoping. And in the end, I was there.”
Right to the end, another winner’s medal round his neck, nothing left to give. He deputised for Dani Carvajal against Georgia, playing 85 minutes with his ankle swollen out of shape. “I’m strong in that sense. With my hip, a knock wasn’t going to force me off,” he says. “And what made us win was looking out for each other.” He faced Kylian Mbappé in the semi-final at 38, no pressure. “Well, I’ve been in football a long time and played lots of good players,” he says. And then on the eve of the final he finally revealed what he had been going through, admitting this was the end with Spain. There was no announcement, no noise, it just slipped out.
He hurt, yet held on. Six more months. Why? “Because it’s my life. I wanted to be here with my Sevilla during this transition, help the younger players. And making people happy is the most important thing.”
Last Saturday he played his last game at the Sánchez Pizjuán. “The moment I hope would never arrive has arrived,” he told his teammates before the game. As it ended, he sat on the substitutes’ bench alongside Manu Bueno, a portrait of the passage of time: the 20-year-old academy product who hadn’t been born when Navas made his Sevilla debut and trained and played at the Estadio Jesús Navas with the B team scored the only goal, the pair departing together immediately after. Navas embraced everyone, knelt and kissed the turf, sobbing as the stadium stood as one. When he lifted his shirt, he folded it so the name couldn’t be seen, only the number: Puerta’s 16.
Yet the name chanted was Navas’s, a man who belongs to everyone, universally admired in part because he never tried to be anything other than himself. “It’s hard to understand so much love,” Navas says. “People thank you for everything you’ve done, the way you are: the values my family showed me and I try to show my kids. Am I an unusual footballer? Could be. That might be why there’s affection. Because I’m normal. Because despite the pain I’m here giving everything. Because I haven’t changed. That’s what I hold on to. I’m proud of the trophies but the nicest thing is to take their love with me. Every ground I go to, there’s been applause; that’s incredible.” A teammate tells me: “You will not find a single person in football who has a bad word to say about him, still less anyone that has ever argued with him.”
One more left: the Bernabéu on Sunday. And then what? Coach? “No. People say: ‘You will because what you love is football,’ but I don’t see it. There is something I would like to do, something there in my mind,” Navas says. “I always followed Miguel Indurain. I love watching Pogacar and Vingegaard. It was always about football for me as a kid, but in the summer it would be the Tour de France. I’d like to cycle, and do it properly. It will be something I try, for sure. I can’t go out there just to pass the time, no. I’m not like that. I compete, give everything. Cycling is hard and I like that. I’ve been competing all my life and I have that ‘itch’.”
It’s almost time. Navas’s teammates start arriving, the last of hundreds he has had, all of them marked by him. Outside the sun is shining, once more into the fray. “Football is everything, my life. It’s what I’ve always done, every day,” he says. “I’ll have to look for something else, keep doing sport. And the bike is non-impact, it doesn’t hurt my hip. But today, I train. To the end. That’s what brought me this far.”
