Matchday: Early Reflections and the Beticos
Nice to know that Steven Gerrard and co. are “publicly behind England keeper Rob”[ert Green] after that catastrophic blunder and a half. As Pepe (el Bueno) put it last night after I screened him the video on youtube, “ni siquiera he visto un fallo tan grave en las canchas de la U,” in other words, tough stuff. Glad to see however in today’s BBC, that Green remains positive and is set on coming back from his inexcusable gaffe. That was yesterday, today is today; today was another genuine experience in the world of passionate football.
After watching most of a semi-entertaining 76 or so minutes of a stalemate between Serbia vs. Ghana in their first group stage match, which ended 1-0 after a late handball, I agreed to go watch Real Betis vs. Salamanca of the Spanish Segunda Division in their penultimate match with my friends Juanma and Luis at a fellow Rondeño’s house. For those that are not up on Spanish football, Betis is one of Seville’s two football teams. The Verdiblancos (green-whites) are renowned for their extremely passionate following, mostly in southwestern Andalusia (though also have the distinction of being the 37th best followed team in Europe), have had some glorious times: being one of nine Spanish clubs to have won the league (1935), qualifying for the Champions League, and twice winning the Copa Del Rey national tournament, and like most teams, some rocky periods as well: several relegations and breaking the world record transfer fee for an effectively worthless player in 1998 (Denilson). Today Betis plays in the Segunda Division, where Spain’s ‘almost’ teams battle each other for three spots in the following season’s top flight called La Liga Española Primera. Since their previous drop to the Segunda Division in 2000-2001, Betis has essentially been staving off relegation, finishing near the bottom of the table in each of the last nine seasons. This is not to say that Real Betis is a bad team, but to emphasize how competitive Spanish football is. Several young talented stars have come up through Betis’ system such as Joaquin Sanchez, a one-time mainstay on the Spanish National Team and spark-plug for perennial league-challengers Valencia CF.
The three of us left together around 17:15 and before heading over to our host’s apartment, we picked up the requisite litros (litres) of Cerveza Alhambra-Granada’s local lager-quite watery, but not bad at all, and “pipas,” sunflower seeds, which all Spaniards, regardless of age or socio-economic background, are absolutely addicted to. Go to any Spanish bar, pub, or restaurant that televises professional football and within 10 minutes of the final whistle (depending on the capacity and attendance of the aforementioned establishment) you will see the ground bedaubed in husked, saliva-covered sunflower seed shells. I suppose to each his-own, and better sunflower seeds, than chewing tobacco, but nevertheless, it is still a slightly grotesque sight to behold.
Arriving at the apartment a few blocks from our own, we were greeted by a pale, portly, balding, and friendly-looking Rondeño. After exchanging pleasantries, biographic information, and some talk of the World Cup, we plumped down with two other fellow Betis fans, one a Moroccan-Spaniard with an incorrigible knack for hash-laden hand-rolled cigarettes and a brutal cough, and the other a slightly built, chain-smoking Sevillano. To this very minute, I thank Juanma for not telling them that I was an FC Sevilla fan, Seville’s other team-currently enjoying their most successful spell in club history, because they probably would have kicked me out of their apartment, or worse. This match would be of utmost importance to Real Betis who had been relegated to the segunda division and were on the verge of qualifying for La Liga once again with 67 points and in third place. A victory today and either a draw or victory in their ultimate match would seal a place in the 2010-2011 Spanish Liga Primera once again. Amongst the Alhambra beer, Ritz crackers, and sunflower seeds, we settled into the game to see all kinds of Betis fans packing into Salamanca’s Estadio El Helmantico. Sunshine lit up the pitch and at least half of the stands as the Green-Whites took to the field against 17th-placed, white-jersey Salamanca, with little to play for, other than avoidance of the drop (to the dreaded Segunda B). I’d like to clarify that although I am an FC Sevilla fan, I was in this case supporting Betis, if not just to have the famed Sevilla “Clasico” take place next season, then to merely shield myself from any criticism, acrid comments, or blame. Though not a “cracker” of a match, what I experienced was a potent brand of football passion, ripe with Spanish vulgarity and intense emotion.
The Betis side that took to the pitch that day was admittedly not bad. Certainly it could not compete with the likes of Los Nuevos Galacticos (Real Madrid), Barcelona, or even FC Sevilla, but there were a few players whom I recognized (namely Argentinean Mario Pavone, Turkish-Brazilian national Mehmet Aurelio, and backup former Portuguese National Team keeper Ricardo). The first 45 minutes was entertaining, though mostly uneventful. Amidst discussions of Spanish football and the World Cup, cigarette/hash smoke, and the intermittent spitting of sunflower seeds, the Beticos in the room were clearly nervous. My friend Luis, although of the Blaugrana sentiment, was also supporting Betis and surprisingly knew quite a bit about the team. Each time Betis were in attacking positions, my companions would display such classic neurosis as standing on their feet, biting their nails, brushing their hair back with their palms, or lighting up new cigarettes. It was a rather one-sided affair as far as possession went in the first half. Betis was stroking the ball around quite well, keeping most of the possession, and had one clear chance, a headed effort by Spaniard Juande that was tipped over the bar by Salamanca keeper Biel. I began wondering at that point, as I would intermittently blurt out “oooooo, muy cerca,” or “casi, casi...aca viene un gol,” whether there can possibly be such a thing as a neutral or unbiased viewer of a sporting event. If one has no affiliation between two competing teams and is viewing an event amongst friends who are supporters of one, isn’t it natural to do as one’s acquaintances do? This was the case with me on that breezy, partly cloudy Andalusian Sunday afternoon where nearly all shops, restaurants, supermarkets, and bars were closed in accordance with Catholic tradition.
The first half ended 0-0 and the Beticos in the room began to despair, though not completely, as they knew, just as well as I, that the home team had another full 45 minutes to play, and had yet to use their three permitted substitutions. The second half kicked off with slightly more effort from Salamanca. The Whites held on to the ball a bit longer and generally seemed more determined to make something happen as they did in the 59th minute. A series of scrappy possessions resulted in Salamanca winning the ball around 35 meters from Betis’ goal. A Salamanca forward, surrounded by two Betis defenders made a sharp diagonal run from the right side of the 18-yard box towards the goal and was put through if only briefly by a fellow midfielder. By reaching out with his right leg, the Salamanca player was able to poke the ball off the leg of the Betis defender Fernando Vega and into the net. What resulted was a collective head-shaking post-goal three minutes. Disaster began to set in for the Betico fans, and the team made two reaction substitutions in the 63rd and 68th minutes respectively. First the wily 25-year-old dribbling specialist, winger Argentine Juan Pablo Caffa, or as he’s known to Betis fans “El violinista del Viaducto” (literally the violinist of the Viaduct) entered for Fernando Vega and then the skilled and powerful (but slow_ Argentine forward Mariano Pavone was subbed off for the squat and pacy German sparkplug, David Odonkor. Within a few minutes, Betis regained their cutting edge and were playing with more width, speed, and enthusiasm. As Betis plodded, prodded, and tested from the wings, Salamanca became increasingly disorganized. After nice link up play between the midfield and forwards, Caffa sent a ball over the top to the right side where Odonkor brought down and subsequently tipped the ball forward to himself. Making a valiant diagonal run, though seemingly headed too far off of goal to have a decent chance, Odonkor released what looked like a low flaming cross to the far post but ended up being tipped by Salamanca keeper Biel under his bottom and into the back of the net, 1-1. My companions began jumping around, yelling, and high-fiveing each other in ecstasy. New cigarettes were rolled and lit, another litre of beer was passed around and handfuls of sunflower seeds were crunched on.
The last twenty minutes of the match were not uneventful, with Betis continually prodding, rarely losing the ball, and dictating most of the offensive play. Kept in utter suspense, we all rose in unison for the final tense five minutes. The air in the room felt weighted by nerves, prayers, and unfulfilled expectations. It was almost too tense to stand, even for a non-Betis fan, I found myself, to my shock, biting my fingernails. As the referee’s assistant showed four minutes of extra-time and the results from other Segunda Division matches were shown, my companions began to lose hope (though still reserving that tiny bit of golden optimism for the seemingly impossible). Most importantly the clubs directly in front of and below Betis in second and fourth places respectively, Levante, from Valencia, and Hercules, from Alicante, had won their matches, thereby placing all the pressure on Betis in their ultimate fixture. The superior team and more entertaining side for the majority of the match, Betis really deserved a victory, but it was not to be. You could see the disappointment on everyone’s face and knew that they were thinking: ‘oh God, not another year in the Segunda.’ The match ended 1-1 and in order to receive promotion, Betis would have to win their ultimate match against a second-place Levante side that had already clinched promotion, and have Hercules lose, a difficult prospect to say the least.
Although not a loss, and certainly not a win, what I took away from my viewing of Betis’ draw with Salamanca on June 14th, 2010 was an understanding of a certain identity-that of the Beticos-a team with much history, little money, and great, though potentially unrealistic expectations. Furthermore, from my position on the couch between Luis and their Spanish-Moroccan friend, I observed a profound display of collective team and regional loyalty (even gritting my teeth when our host exclaimed his hatred for all things Sevilla) and shared with them an uncommon emotional experience. I’m sure that many have had such experiences with their own teams, amongst friends, and fellow supporters: grueling 1-1 draws, brutal 3-0 losses, and possibly worse, but for me despite the results, one of life’s greatest pleasures has been viewing football and experiencing it with fans from different teams, countries, and cultures. As the match ended, so did my affiliation with Real Betis, but I thank Juanma and his friends for allowing me to take part in an important and emotionally stimulating viewing experience.
