European Football Weekends

Someone in EFW's Brilliant Ideas Dept had decided it would be a top wheeze to take in a brace of matches on the outskirts of Madrid - in the same day. Needless to say I had no objections and considered myself up to the task in hand.

A trip to Alcorcón for a midday kick off with Real Madrid Castilla (reserves) would be followed by a short trip on the metro to Getafe to see them do battle with Valladolid at 5pm. I don't know about you but these are the sort of days I find fairly agreeable.

AD Alcorcón were involved in the second most astonishing thing ever to occur in this glorious old pastime. They were responsible for knocking Real Madrid out of the Copa del Rey this season. They thrashed them 4-0 at home and only lost 0-1 in the return leg at the Bernabau. 4-1 on aggregate and the biggest upset of all time in Spanish football complete. Some Real Madrid players haven't played since that game, notably Guti (who I cut up earlier in the week over in Castilla-La Mancha) - bad few weeks for him no!?

What? You want to know the most astonishing thing ever to occur in football? Here you go then; when Arbroath beat Bon Accord 36-0 in 1885 - thus recording the biggest victory in any senior British match - just 18 miles down the road on the same day, Dundee Harp beat Aberdeen Rovers 35-0. How's your luck!? Worst still, the ref thought Dundee had won 37-0 but their own secretary thought they'd only scored 35 and so the lower figure was agreed upon.

Where were we? Football, Spain, oh yes...Alcorcón. Well, the twenty minute walk from the metro station to the ground takes you past a multitude of high rise blocks of flats. You also walk through a large park which - at a push - you could call an area of outstanding beauty. Its not really a place you'd choose to bring your wife on a honeymoon but good luck to it anyway. I felt just as at home here than anywhere in the country. It's the real Spain so enjoy it.


After being relieved of €15 for my match ticket, I made my way inside the 3,000 capacity mutli-coloured all seater stadium. The first thing that you notice is that hundreds of those seats have been broken. This must have been caused by excess celebrations after that victory over Real Madrid.


These are giddy times for the club. They are due to take on Racing Santander in the next round of the cup soon. Tickets for this match (as well as the away leg) were being sold by a couple of chaps walking around the stands with a huge bundle of cash on them. Brisk trade was also being done in the club shop as shirts, scarves and pretty much everything else was selling out and fast.

After a couple of rousing renditions of We Will Rock You and with the sun not quite beaming its approval on the scene, the game got underway on what was rather marvellously - a pudding of a pitch.

The main stand was sold out and one of the fans in there was a complete loon/legend. He sang (into a microphone) alone for 90 minutes. His voice boomed out across the Municipal de Santo Domingo like an Indian call to prayer. Freaky but uniquey.



Cristian missed an open goal for Castilla early on but, what really had the locals talking was an incident on 18 minutes. Your correspondent with his right foot (I'm actually left footed) retrieved a wayward ball from the stands and lofted a perfectly chipped effort straight into the hands of Real Madrid left back Nacho (of course Nacho). He didn't have to move a muscle. Both coaches looked at each other in semi-amazement and I'm sure at least one of them jotted down a note. I'm still sitting by my phone awaiting the call as I type.

On the stroke of half time the home side took the lead with Lopez (of course Lopez) getting his nut to an inswinging corner. It was great to see the Real Madrid players collectively losing their rag, caked in mud and evidently not wanting to be anywhere near Alcorcón.

With the aid of a bent linesman, Castilla found their way back into the game three minutes from time. Juan Carlos (of course Carlos) equalised with what would have been the most undeserved point ever gained by a team in the nattily named Campeonato Nacional de Liga, 2a Division "B" Group II.

Luckily, for all the romantics in the ground, super-sub David Sanz was on hand to bring a bit of justice to proceedings. He chose the very last bit of action in the match to head home the winner and send the home crowd into another seatbreaking celebration. I stood with the ultras behind the goal in the second half and although relatively few in number, there was pandemonium in there when the goal went in. Some tried to pull the goal down in all the excitement. A brown besuited policeman saw to that though and stood triumphantly in the goalmouth afterwards beating his chest. Marvellous scenes.


After the game, I reaped the benefit of this being a working class town rather than a tourist trap. For just €8 I was able to enjoy a three course meal complete with bottle of acceptable red wine in a little family restaurant near to the station. Don't mind if I do. After all, I had another match to attend at Getafe in a couple of hours. Thanks Alcorcón, el orgullo de Madrid otra vez.

One needs to make the most of visits to the Estadio Vicente Calderón these days. Why? Well, in a year or two from now, the bulldozers are going to move in, flatten the place, and turn it into flats. The Club - whose owners previously stated they'd never leave - will then relocate to a soulless athletics stadium near to Madrid airport. You won't meet a single Atleti fan who thinks its a good idea. This is just the start of their myriad of problems.

Atletico Madrid is simply a madhouse. The two owners; Gil Marin and Enrique Cerezo - who, fraudulently, acquired the club in 1992 - can't stand each other. The fans hate the pair of them as well as a fair few of their players, who regularly leave through a revolving door, as do the managers - 9 in six years for Spain's third biggest club, in which time their trophy cabinet has remained bare.

Did I mention that they are also hopelessly in debt to the tune of €300m? Also (there's more - Ed?), recently, to appease fans who he'd previously tried to buy off, Gil wrote an open letter to them saying 'come along chaps, lets all be mates'. This resulted in a march of 7,000 fans calling for both his and Cerezo's noggins and riot police moving in to disperse those fans. Apart from that everything is tickety boo.

After a week in rural Spain (whereby I'd got myself into one or two 'Littlest Hobbo' type adventures eg cutting up two pigs from start to finish to make about 1000 chorizos) it was on to Madrid to resume normal service - futbol y cerveza. I stopped off in the city of Cuenca en route which is famed for its free tapas. First tapa served up with my opening beer of the day? A whole pigs tail. I oinked my approval, snorted down several more beers and then moved onto the capital.


After parting with the thick end of 50 quid for a ticket at the ground, I popped into the Sport Arena bar next to the clubs impressive museum. In an attempt to clear the clubs debts, they were cheekily charging €2.50 for a caña (less than half a pint) so it was only fleeting visit.

As luck would have it, there are a couple of bars opposite the stadium. The ultras were letting off bangers and fireworks outside the front of one of them 'El Parador' (and this was 3hrs before kick off!), so I opted to go in El Chiscon De La Ribera next door. In here they sold a 'mini' of beer for €6. Mini by name but size of a bus by nature. A mini equates to about a litres worth of strong beer - nice.


Inside and it was good to see that Sevilla had brought along 3000 away fans. They hadn't though had they. This is Spain. Despite the fact the AVE can get you from Sevilla to Madrid in two hours - they had the backing of 20 (twenty!) fans.

It was however rather splendid to see the booze ban being flaunted. Hip flasks were all the rage, as were the odd bota de vino and even a few cans of beer. Three young lads in front of me also had a couple of 'Camberwell carrots' on the go for the duration of the match.

Unlike at the Bernabau, sheets of noise emanate from the stands of the Calderón, mainly from the ultras in the "Fondo Sur" but quite often, everybody joins in and gives their vocal chords an airing.

As expected, Sevilla took the lead early doors with a looping Renato header from a corner on 17 minutes. It was a really soft goal and led to more calls for the board to leave. The score remained the same until a comedy moment just the other side of half time. Diego Forlan was sent racing through one on one with the keeper, who cleared his fairly weak effort, only for the ball to rebound off a Sevilla players hooter and head straight into the net. This resulted in me being swept of my feet by all those around me and a bout of high fiving ensued.

The usual flurry of yellow and red cards followed. Then, just as the referee was about to blow for full time up popped Antonio Lopez (of course Antonio Lopez) and with his noddle, he sent 35,000 into absolute ecstasy by heading in a 93rd minute winner. By now I'd been accepted as a new colchonero and the high fiving had turned to manly cuddles.

For a moment, the long suffering fans of Atleti who are famed for embracing a loser's role and are generally proudly pessimistic, packed up their troubles in their old kit bag, and for once - smiled, smiled, smiled. Not for long though. Afterwards, they headed around to the main stand to protest once more and let off a few more bangers in the direction of the board.

Its always great going to see Altetico Madrid. So good in fact that I'm returning in April for another game. See you there Los Colchoneros!