European Football Weekends

Evidently, folk just can't get enough of European Football Weekends. All good news for this particular vessel of course. Hoping aboard the good ship EFW today is Manchester City fan William Unwin, who describes himself as an 'Infrequently used journalist in need of work'....
In recent times I’ve been sent to the glamorous stadia of Curzon Ashton, Mansfield and Morecambe, but I haven’t felt the intrigue and excitement that I did when I wandered along the Nervion River into Sestao. This feeling escaped me for a few minutes as my companion, James and I realised we had little to no idea where we were heading. We took the usual course of action at this point and made a hazardous guess at the direction of the ground and then follow a man in suitably coloured attire in order to find the exact location of the ground.

When we finally stumbled across a man in Sestao green we quickly got into stealth mode as we took our position ten yards behind him down the main street of this disappointing industrial town on the outskirts of Bilbao. After a few detours to bars along the way we finally made it to the ground an hour before kick-off. At the turnstile my friend paid his 15 euros for a small green paper ticket whereas I decided to chance my arm and whipped out my press pass and made a successful attempt to get into free.





The fun began now, as we found our way to the bar where we enjoyed cheap beer and some reasonably priced, and tasty pintxos (small Basque tapas); a nice bit of tortilla and chorizo was eaten as a pre-match snack. We set ourselves up in the one seated stand in order to enjoy our food. I had a quick review of the press box, which was situated in the corner and then checked the teamsheets that were taped to the wall. The entertainment began in the warm-up as the ball was continuously kicked over the wall and an elderly man was sent to slowly fetch from the flats on the other side. However, when the music came on I was alarmed to have my ears tortured by the mid-90s classic ‘Glory Glory Man Utd’, it was a bizarre setting for a terrible song to celebrate a decent team.

Before the match started we moved over to the terracing on the other side to join the more vocal supporters including a drunk man and his wife who drank more than teenagers in a Mancunian park on a Friday night. The ultras had their array of flags flying behind the goal including a Che Guevara image. It also gave us a great view of the ageing members of the population sat opposite, as the younger fans got fired up, by that I mean they got drunker and more stoned.

The opposition, local rivals Portugalete,  brought few fans which was disappointing considering it was only a 20 minute walk. As we settled in and the match kicked off it was obvious that the pitch wasn’t great and that the home side were by far the superior team. After a few chances and many more chants Sestao broke the deadlock through an Isaac Aketxe goal. Like most on the pitch, he had been rejected by Athletic Bilbao and showed a lot of natural ability in taking his opening goal. Another was added before half time, and then more alcohol and food was collected from the bar on this side of the ground.




Two more strikes followed as the home side routed the disappointing visitors. Our nearby companions were now dancing whilst lying on the floor as the overwhelming stench of cannabis took over the terracing as local youngsters enjoyed their victory against their local rivals. Songs rang out at the same pace as the rain pelted down for the entire half. As the end came, my companion and I moved around the ground in anticipation of our next match of the day in two hours at San Mames.

Having lived in Bilbao for a year, a trip to Athletic’s stadium the San Mames is nothing new to me. However, having not visited the city since leaving it 18 months ago, it was quite a special occasion attending their match against Valencia. When me and my friend James booked the trip, we deliberately made sure it coincided with a big match.

In order to a) save money and b) have a different matchday experience I applied for a press ticket, which I was granted, as was my friend James. We picked up our passes beforehand, (my name was spelt correctly, James’ was not as his surname Brewis became Brewing), and then went to a bar next to the ground based on the fact it was named after one of our favourite players Fernando Amorebieta. We grabbed a quick drink and an undercooked pork sandwich.

Finding the press lounge was a less interesting experience than one may expect having seen it on the guided tour the previous day. However, it deserves some mention as it is a huge space, but far less fascinating than those you find in the Premier League, mainly as it doesn’t offer free food or booze.

Our seats were in the ‘visitors’ press box, which consisted mainly of chancers like ourselves and some Japanese journalists who seemed to be making a bizarre video about their day at the match. I am reasonably sure that we will be on Japanese TV sometime soon, but I won’t be watching.

The atmosphere at La Catedral is always great, as unlike many Spanish grounds the fans are right on top of the pitch, and therefore closer to the action. They are some of the most passionate supporters who follow a team with a unique history. Admittedly, this ‘only playing Basques’ policy is a touch fuzzy nowadays with it being continually adjusted to allow quality players to wear the red and white of Athletic.





There was a lot to cheer about in the opening stages of the match as Gaizka Toquero and Iker Muniain ripped through the Valencia defence setting up a plethora of chances for their talisman Fernando Llorente. The goal quickly came after some good footwork from the World Cup winner before slotting the ball home. However, his game was overshadowed by his head being the target for David Navarro’s elbow which caused Llorente’s crown to develop an open wound. You may remember Navarro from a melee against Inter a few years ago where he kicked an opposition player after the final whistle.

By this point the fans were baying for blood as players clashed ferociously. Sadly, the Athletic team were getting rapidly more tired as the second half dragged on; Valencia got back into the match and quickly scored two goals to take the lead, to which the home side had little to no response.




Post-match allowed another interesting experience of seeing how a press conference works in Spain. First we got Unai Emery and his overweight press officer, who spent most of his time looking slick without saying anything of note, apart from defending the filthy Navarro. Some casual Caparros banter followed before Llorente and Toquero were put in front of the press. Neither wanted to be there, but the latter was asked if he was gaining a reputation for being a real footballer rather than a man who just ran around a lot. Enjoyment was had by all his fans.

In summary, a good day was had by all. Made a change from the Preferencia Sur, and was a little bit more special in the knowledge it would be a long time before we would be able to go back.

Ciudad de las artes y las ciencias - buildings more attractive than the football stadium shocker!


My European Football Weekends fall into two categories. Mostly, I go with the lads on what can turn into quite beery occasions. Alternatively, some trips I attend with my wife and these ones tend to be more cultural jaunts. This EFW fell into the later department.

It's not very often that I count the football stadium in the city as not being the most beautiful building. However, in Valencia this is very much the case. Aesthetically, I can't find fault with the Ciudad de las Artes y las Cinecias (City of Arts and Sciences). Local architect Santiago Calatrava has changed the face and landscape of the City with a series of stunning buildings built on what previously a marshy bogland.

The complex includes a museum (Museo de las Ciencias Principe Felipe), the beatlesque type Imax cinema and planetarium (Hemisferic), a multicultural arts complex (Palau de les Arts Reina Sofia) and lastly an 'Oceanografic' aquarium type arrangement which is actually worth paying to get into - it's exceptional.

Aside from the above we also did a couple of walking tours around the historical centre of Valencia. You'll almost certain to end up in the Plaza de la Virgen at some stage, and from that location there is simply loads to see and do. The Lonely Planet Best of Valencia pocket guide has some superb City walks which you can follow.

Make sure you down a glass of Horchata whilst you are in town. It's non alcoholic, but on a hot morning - almost guaranteed in these parts - it's a most refreshing local beverage.

Now then, onto the football (about time - Ed.). Until 2009 when they will be moving to a new stadium - Valencia play at the Mestalla. It's old, full of character and has very steep stands. It's fairly easy to just take a stroll down from the City centre but if you are feeling lazy on a hot day then hop on the underground to Aragon.

I got there reasonably early so I could not only pick up a couple of match tickets (22 euro each), but to pay a visit to Manolo el del Bombo's bar which is across the road, and opposite the small ticket huts. Manolo is the chap you see at every Spanish national game banging his drum. I had my photo taken with him as did plenty of others, and brilliantly he donned a new hat for each picture. The bar doubles up as a football museum and I can't think of many better places to spend a couple of hours drinking prior to the match.

As I sat there with my wife, eating very agreeable tapas dishes, sinking nice cold beers, watching Real Madrid v Atletico Madrid on a big screen and cocking an eye towards Manolo serve behind the bar - I did rather find a few answers to the question I ask myself quite often; 'Why do I like Spain so much'?

Unusually for a Spanish league game, the away side Gimnastic had brought a large travelling support down the coast with them. Any trifling doubt that violence might ensue was quickly dispelled when one chap turned up with a 6ft teddy bear which was roundly applauded. Strange but true. I must remember to take mine to West Ham next time we are at Upton Park, or maybe not eh?

As we took to our seats, just below the travelling hordes prior to the match a marching band appeared on the pitch and treated the locals to a few tunes. Marching bands are big news in Valencia and they went down a proverbial storm. As they paraded around the pitch, they would stop at twenty yard intervals and turn to the crowd, who in turn rose out of their seats and rewarded them with some overhead clapping.

Gimnastic Tarragona started the match by running around like headless chickens. It was as if it was their annual sports day, and the only thing missing was a bean bag on their heads. Their enthusiasm started to diminish after just three minutes though as Fernando Morientes helped himself to the games opening goal.

After that it was one way traffic. David Villa engaged in blazes of wizardry, he would go one way and the crowd would go the other. Villa is a brilliant player and a definite favourite here at European Football Weekends HQ. After he had scored a couple of goals he was withdrawn to a heroes reception. I'll give you an idea of how much he is liked at Valencia, the ovation he received was nearly as good as the marching bands!

Valencia declared at 4-0, and the away fans, just happy to be there clapped their team off the park and everybody seemed pretty chuffed with life. It was far too hot for running battles outside the stadium so we decided to ingratiate ourselves with the locals and head to the bars. There is a bar for every occasion in Valencia, it's a great place to stay up half the night sinking a couple of beers so we duly did just that.

It's worth mentioning our hotel at this juncture should you ever choose to pay a visit to Valencia. We stayed in the Home Deluxe Hostel. It's smack plum in the middle of all the action and every room is individually designed. You'll have to book well in advance but it's cheap as chips and very welcoming.

So with a new stadium being built which looks stunning and the City's other team Levante still to see, I shall definitely be returning. A City of architectural triumphs, guaranteed sunshine, sandy beaches and two football teams. Take your wives and girlfriends lads - Adios.

Rayo Vallecano 1-0 Universidad de Las Palmas 23:03:08 (12pm)

Real Madrid 2-3 Valencia 23:03:08 (7pm)

My brief whilst back in Madrid was to see two games of football in one day. Kicking off with a starter of Rayo Vallecano v Universidad de Las Palmas who were kicking off at midday, allowing me plenty of time to also attend the main dish of Real Madrid v Valencia at 19:00.

I started the day, like all Sundays in Madrid should with a stroll around El Rastro, the largest flea market in Europe. Over the years I have developed an unhealthy amount of football badges and here I was able to pick up every Spanish 2nd division badge to add to my growing collection. I know, I know!

After snooping around El Rastro, I headed towards the working class neighbourhood of Vallecas. During the Franco regimethis area gained a reputation for resistance to the right-wing dictatorship. The pride of the area - at least they were in 2001 when they reached the last 16 of the UEFA Cup - are Rayo Vallecano FC.

Thesedays they ply their trade in the Segunda Division B (Division 3 to you and I). Their three sided Teresa Rivero stadium has a 15,000 capacity and is bedecked in the club colours of red and white. Rayos kit is a classic, think Madrid taxis (white with a red stripe) or the Peru kit of the 1978 World Cup finals and you´ve got it.

After a couple of cheeky beers in the supporters bar underneath the main stand I got my ticket. It set me back a very reasonable 10 euros.

To my delight to PA belted out an albums worth of punk classics at full volume prior to the match. We were treated to The Clash, The Ramones, Sex Pistols the works. All in keeping with the slightly anarchic feel to the club.

After taking in the first half however, I was rather thinking that 10 euros was a bit over priced. All I had to entertain me were the Rayo ultras behind the goal. Despite it being Sunday morning, they belted out songs non stop for 90 minutes.

Being a university team Universidad did rather live up to the student stereotype. The traffic-cone-collectors looked and played like they´d been up all night drinking subsidised cider and listening to The Levellers. They ´parked their camper van´in front of the goal and they weren´t going to budge for love or indeed money.

Thankfully in the 63rd minute, Michel of Rayo sent 5,813 fans into raptures with a piece of individual brilliance not all that in keeping with the game. His goal was to send Rayo up to second in the table.

Universidad annoyed me with their negative tactics. What is it with teams who only start to ´panic play´with five minutes left after putting in a half arsed performance beforehand!? In stoppage time they smacked the underside of the crossbar and the ball bounced on the line before 21 players pounced on it. I have seen them given.

After a brief conference, the lino and the ref decided they didn´t much fancy being chased out of Vallecas by a baying mob with pitched forks and awarded a free-kick to Rayo.

Just prior to that the referee realised he hadn´t dished out his full quota of yellow cards and brandished a flurry of them in a mad two minute spell. It´s one of the great pleasures in life watching a Spanish ref book a player as if his life depends on it.

The metro was located right next to the stand I was in and by the third peep of the full time whistle I was back on my way into town to meet the wife.

We met up in Casa Alberto on the Calle Huertas. The Sunday afternoon drink of choice in Madrid is Vermouth. This place serves up the hard stuff on tap. We got chatting to the landlord who insisted on giving us free drinks. Nice but after four or five vermouts it´s a struggle to see nevermind feel your legs.

Some lunch was called for so we headed to La Casa del Abuelo in Calle de la Victoria for some heavenly langostinos.

In sharp contrast to Vallecas, the Santiago Bernabeu is located in the heart of the Madrid business district. There´s not much to say about this place that everybody doesn´t already know. It´s a slightly ugly concrete jungle from the outside but inside it´s nothing short of magnificent.

Correctly rated 5 stars by UEFA the stadium has hosted three European Cup finals as well as the 1982 World Cup final. There are also plans afoot to add a retractable roof.

The match was a complete sell out meaning I had to buy my ticket from a tout. I paid 80 euros after he´d intially asked for 130. I knew the going rate was 100 euros so although feeling slightly robbed it could have been worse.

Sid Lowe of the Guardian newspaper keeps bleating on about this being the worse La Liga in recent years in terms of quality. Therefore, I wasn´t expecting much of a match. As it happened it was one of the most compelling I´d ever seen.

With the game poised at 2-2 going into the last few minutes - the Valencia striker Javier Arizmendi of all people saw world cup winner Cannavaro off like a puppy before out foxing Casillas from the acutest of angles to win the match. It was his first of the season and that from a player thought to be the worst in La Liga. Previously he´d ben so bad that the coach had him playing at right back.

Prior to Arizmendi´s comedy winner, Raul and David Villa had each score a brace apiece. In between rolling about the floor, Villa was easily the best player on the park and if he isn´t playing for Chelsea next season I´ll eat my sombrero. Total class.

It was a fairly cold night in Madrid but the Bernabeu has a rather unusual feature in that it has heaters situated on the underside of the stadium roof. Subsequently it was as hot as you like in there.

As per usual though the atmosphere was somewhat lacking. Aside from the Ultras Sur behind the goal, no-one seemed too bothered in creating an noise. Granted there was those dreaded hooters but in my eyes - whoever thought of allowing those things anywhere near to a football stadium needs putting behind bars.

After the match I headed into town to meet up again with the wife and a few friends and we engaged in a traditional Madrid bar crawl long into the night.

Over many a beer we discussed the important things in life such as the fact that "Go hang a salami, I´m a lasagna hog" reads the same backwards as forwards. Palindrome genius indeed. Good old life!