European Football Weekend in Bilbao

Basquing in Toquero's Glow

Sestao River Club 4-0 Portugalete (27:02:11)

Atheltico Bilbao 1-2 Valencia (27:02:11)

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.

Bienvenidos al Campo Municipal

A match made in heaven. 

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.

This will be our entry for the 2011 Young (ish) Sports Photographer of the Year Competition. 

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.

The most popular Catedral in the Basque country

EFW were on top of things, as per usual

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.

A quick heads up for the view from the press box

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.

Yeah, one more question; I'd just like to ask Toquero, oh. 

Sadly, or not depending on your view, the end is nigh for San Mames. This is currently being built next door.

So it'll be adios to this particular cathedral. 

You can follow William and European Football Weekends on Twitter

Like this? You might like A guide to football in Bilbao.

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European football road trip - Part 2

Tom, Chris, Jamie, Ben, Andy Barcelona. And Lyon.

A minor crisis at EFW Towers this week. After penning part one of this epic two-part series whereby five lads set out to conquer Europe in a car named Beyonce, or was it Emile? Anyway, Jamie Cutteridge was lured away by a multi-pound deal with Jonathan Wilson's new production The Blizzard (everybody is talking about it). 

Fear not fans of National Lampoon's European Vacation-esque shenanigans, with a football twist, for riding through the crowd in a knight of shining armor to continue the story is brilliant young sports writer Tom Goulding.....

So that was Zaragoza 0-1 Atletico Madrid.

The Eurotrip group leader Jamie Cutteridge, assistant-to-the-leader Ben, Andy, Chris ‘Equaliser’ Mann and I regrouped on Sunday morning in our Barcelona hostel, before heading into the city centre with an afternoon to kill before Barcelona vs Athletic in the evening.

 A strange lack of Catalan coverage on the previous night’s win for Real Madrid

The group enjoyed a leisurely walk down Las Ramblas and around the pier, with our minds firmly on what sort of Barcelona we were about to see that evening – would it be the lukewarm, defensively porous Barcelona of the Emirates, or the overwhelming Blaugrana of the November Clasico and of countless other matches over the past few years?

Were we in Orange County?

Overpriced tapas, a cool breeze, a Catalan sunset, a game of categories of players to have scored volleys at Turf Moor – the time soon passed until we needed to get the metro to the stadium.

Approaching the ground in the short walk from the metro station, we witnessed the countless bars and cafes overflowing with Blaugrana and the rojiblanco of the Athletic fans, all jovily enjoying drinks and sharing stories with each other. A far cry from the Green Street pubs I didn’t enjoy last September. We turned down the offers of countless street stalls, who were selling the all too common Spanish snack combination of bread-meat-bread, and we went our separate ways into the stadium early doors.

FC Barcelona 2-1 Athletic Bilbao (20:02:11)

Chris and I were sat up high in the top tier of the stadium, right behind the goal of the Lampard end of Camp Nou. As the countless fellow plastics with their shiny new replica kits filled the majestic beast of a stadium, we were transfixed by the casual chest control and 40-yard volley drill Lionel Messi and Daniel Alves were doing with each other. Minutes went by without the ball touching the ground. “Bale could do that to himself” I said to Chris.

The noise I could hear was the brave singing of the couple of hundred Basque travelling fans to our right, interjected occasionally by the hooter being honked by the teenage Barca fan in the row behind, which is the most annoying noise in the world™. His attempts to impress his girlfriend with the amplitude of his horn was not going to interfere with my appreciation of the Barca anthem as the players marched out onto the pitch. “Barça, Barça, Baaarça!” I half expected the final player Sergio Busquets to march out dressed as a nervous high school marching band girl playing the trumpet. He didn’t, and we got on with the match.

Athletic would have won if they had gone 4-4-2

Villa turned in an Alves cross (“Offside!” cried Marca) on 3 minutes to make it 1-0 to the home side, and we wondered whether this was to be a contest at all. But Barcelona’s commendable commitment to never shoot meant that for all their possession, the half-time score remained 1-0.

As the hot dog queue took me into the first five minutes of the second half, I heard wails from the stands and rushed back into my seat to see Athletic with a penalty right below me after Busquets had tripped Llorente. Without time to ask the Catalans next to me if Busquets had not raised his arms to cancel the foul, Atheltic’s Andoni Iraola tucked away the penalty past Pinto, and a small voice inside me (not literally) was shouting the name of the Basque left-back, in wild celebrations at the sight of the underdog upsetting the all-conquering behemoth at their own ground, something I have longed for so many times over the years watching the Premier League.

Where were you when you were shit?

However, I eventually sat back and marvelled at the spectacle I knew I would not often witness. Thousands reached for their white handkerchiefs as Messi was shoved off the ball in the area but a penalty was, incredibly, not forthcoming. Iniesta twisted and turned, weaved in and out, tying up Athletic players in their own logic. His opponents could only manage to cry out in angst at the failure of their own defensive paradigm in the face of such magic. Messi, quiet by his standards (Lazy.), accelerated into the space but he was denied. They all were being denied. Would they fail to pick up a win for the third time in a week? Might they even lose, at the hands of a tormenting bald, Basque substitute, Gaizka Toquero? It seemed so easy back on 3 minutes....

No, they would not fail. Messi turned in an Alves cross on 77 to clinch the match and the Camp Nou breathed a collective sigh of relief. I had seen the late home goal for the favourites crush the dreams of the plucky underdogs so often before, but like Kevin Spacey in the underrated American Airlines commercial, I had to just smile and clap. We had witnessed one of the greatest sides to have played the game we love, and we had seen them win a match.

While the rest of the group spent Monday at the Catalan F1 Track to see some testing (MOTOR SPORT IS NOT REAL SPORT), I spent the day in the city that I barely got to know in a week’s time spent there in 2007. In the gardens of the Sagrada Familia (named the ‘Salgado Familia’ by one of Chris’ twitter buddies), I mused: could anyone else even hope to achieve the elegance of Iniesta again? Who else has controlled top-level games to such an extent as Xavi does week in, week out? Do Italian BMTs taste the same abroad?

[Amusing photo caption about Barcelona beach]

Without anymore time to be pretentious, I met up with the lads to start our overnight drive to Lyon, to see Lyon vs Real Madrid the following evening in the Champions League. 

Arriving in the morning, we didn’t want to suffer a repeat of Stade-Metropole-gate. After sitting in a thoroughly depressing car park for several hours playing categories (Yes, ‘sunbaked terracotta’ is a colour. Check with Dulux.) we then joined European football whore Andy Brassell for a thoroughly enjoyable drink in the centre of Lyon before the evening’s match, answering a few questions along the way. Would Lyon do as well as last year’s triumph over Los Merengues? (No.) Would Mourinho play three holding midfielders as predicted by the Lyon Morning Echo? (No.) Where can we steal free wifi from before the game? (Bar Ninkasi Gerland).

After satisfying our thirst for lash at the Bar Ninkasi, we proceeded into the stadium, walking up majestic stone steps onto raised ground as Fanfar For The Common Man all played in our respective heads.. We were tucked away in the corner of the end to the right of the camera, where away fans used to be if you have watched previous ties at the Gerland. Although we were very much in the home end, there were a number of Ronaldo fan boys with replica Madrid kits around us, who would yelp every time the Portuguese star fired a ball into the empty net in the warm-up. 200 Madrid fans (of which about 8 sung) sat across from us on the side stand, a surprisingly low number notwithstanding the absence of an away fan culture in Spain.

Olympique Lyonnais 1-1 Real Madrid (22:02:11)

The first half was a very typical Champions League first leg first half – cagey, tight, entropic. Ozil, Di Maria and Adebayor were all fairly lightweight. Ronaldo’s first touch saw him go down under the lightest of touches, and due to the precarious nature of our standing position (on flat slabs of seats), when I stepped forward to wave an imaginary card at the referee, my momentum took my down four rows and into a rather large man.

A very well-lit Stade Gerland

Real didn’t look threatening until early into the second half, and with the introduction of Karim Benzema they opened the deadlock. Until then Lyon had looked the most likely like scoring, through a strong combination of Michel Bastos and Aly Cissokho on the left. Benzema combined with Ronaldo with his first touch and bundled the ball in – disaster for Lyon, as a 0-0 would have been a fairly good result for the home side. Incredibly however, Bafetimbi Gomis, the Lyon striker, who had been doing his best Carlton Cole impression all game, found space in the box late on and guided the ball past Iker Casillas. Neither team was too disappointed with the scoreline, and the game ended.

We trudged back to Bar Ninkasi before heading back to our car for the overnight drive to Dunkirk ferry port and monotonous ol’ England. What had we learnt from the past six days? That Atletico could do it on a cold and windy night in Aragon. That the relative altitude of the city of Lyon means that it can be incredibly windy and cold.  That Barcelona has a beach. That players as good as Iniesta and Messi really do exist. That Karl Pilkington’s brother got sacked from the Army for going to the shops in a tank. And that David’s Platt mother-in-law does a really good serving of pork pies.

Goodnight everyone.

That was part 2. I dare you to CLICK ME for a look back on Part 1.

You'll be wanting to follow the lads on Twitter now I'm guessing, so click on their names to allow their wit and charm to enter into your life on a daily basis: Tom, Chris, Jamie, Ben and Andy.

Good lord. It's an Andy Brassell interview. 

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Athletic Bilbao

Hello! We Are Football

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Perfect beaches, fabulous pintxos, all night fiestas and jade green hills - Welcome to Bilbao, the "different" part of Spain where Basque nationalism rules and grey not blue skies are the norm. It is the down-to-earth soul, rather than the many art galleries, that is the real attraction of the vital, exciting and cultured city of Bilbao. Oh, they're football potty as well. "Hello! We Are Football" as Athletic Bilbao say.

As you stroll around Bilbao, you'll notice the flags of Athletic Club all around the City. In 2009 the club reached the final of the Copa del Rey for the first time in 24 years. Flags hung from every nook and cranny and many still remain from that day. They lost that day to Barca but hey ho, it was an excuse for a party, and boy - do they love to party. There are references to the club everywhere you look, they even have their own multiple designs of sugar sachets - as you do.

Athletic were away when I visited the City. Don't panic. I saw two other games and managed to squeeze in a tour of San Mamés and a visit to Sestao River Club. As I pitched up to the stadium, my plea for free beer fell on death ears. My sound reasoning behind this being that the English (eg me) founded the club back in 1925. As such, a couple of lunchtime range-finders by way of a small thanks would have been nice. They just laughed.

There are many ways to travel to San Mamés - which is known locally as The Cathedral by the way, so impress your wife by telling her you fancy drinking in some culture when you drag her down there. You can take the metro (more of that later), the fancy new tram system - which links the stadium, the Guggenheim and the City - or you can just walk 20 minutes from the centre and take in a few bars en route.

If you do take the metro, as you emerge from station, you'll notice the four towering old skool floodlights. Your tummy does a little rumble, you skip a heartbeat and then you realise that they belong to the adjacent bus depot and the ground is behind you. Keep calm and carry on.

Relax Lasty. They belong to the coach station you lemon - Ed.

This is what you're after - Ed (again).

I didn't see you on the pitch Ed, you plum - Danny.

The stadium tour costs €6. Real Madrid charge €15 for theirs but then they sign Kaka, Ronaldo and anyone else who wins the Ballon d'Or - whilst Bilbao's policy is to only select players native to the greater Basque Country. This has become slightly more relaxed in recent times though and now they occasionally sign footballers with direct Basque ancestry, which has been both criticised and admired locally.

EFW got its own personal tour of the stadium, it's not what you know etc. As I strolled through the trophy room there was the usual mixture of trophies ranging from small to the size of a bus. One of them was the size of a large sailing boat. In fact it was a large sailing boat. They must have had some time on their hands in 1923. No photos allowed in the trophy room so you'll have to take my word for it.

The best story on the tour concerns the Gabarra (barge boat). Every time the club win something, out comes the barge boat and the team sail down the river that cuts through the city and the fans celebrate for weeks. Trouble is, it last got an airing in 1984 when they won the league and cup double. Nowadays, they're not even sure where it is.

Argy Bargy. Things were black and white when the barge last got an airing.

My wife always says "Why do you want to see where they get changed every time?". It's a good question but you just have to don't you?

You can't beat a trip to the Cathedral when you're on holiday.

I was told that the fans are faithful, understanding, generous and know how to be patient when things don't go so well (ie nothing to add to the trophy cabinet since 1984) and that know - like no other - how to savour victories. This is my kind of team. They don't actually win anything much but when they do they go quite literally bonkers.

The ground itself is old and historic and the fans are close to the pitch. All this will change in four years time though as next door, a boring, characterless identikit stadium is being built. The San Mames Barria will be rated Five stars by FIFA but only a two by EFW.

Tickets for the museum as well as stadium tours can be purchased at gate (puerta) 26. Match tickets are brought at puerta 40 and will cost between €35-180 unless you are a socio (member) in which case they start from €15. The club shop was shut when I went which saved me about €100. If badges are your thing then there is shop called "Futbol Regalo" (Football Presents) in Calle Licenciado Poza opposite the stadium that has around 2000 for sale.

In the evenings, do as the locals do and bar hop. In the Casco Viejo, around Calles Barrenkale, Ronde and de Somera, there are umpty thrumpty bars. Don't just stay in one as soon as you find a seat. Have beer will travel. Try as many as you can and enjoy the mix of political, alternative, young and vibrant crowd. Mention football and you'll be there all night.

Try and find a bar called Pena Athletic de Casco Athletic in Calle Pelota on your night out. In there I met Carlos (of course Carlos) and Inigo the owner. Get on with Inigo and he'll give you the nod to enter the secret socios room through the back which is awash with Athletic memorabilia. It is a little gem and the beer isn't too bad either.

The metro has four football stadiums within 12 stops: Athletic Bilbao (San Mames), Portugalete (Portugalete), Sestao River Club (Sestao) and Barkaldo (Barkaldo). There are only two lines to negotiate as well. Best metro in the world anyone? It's also one of the best places you could wish to visit. Take your wife, go with the lads, go on your own - just make sure you go.

The Guggenheim in Bilbao is an absolute must. Five FIFA stars and it's not even about football.

Talking of football (Phew!) - here's a model of the new ground being built next door.

And you'll be wanting to see the ticket office. Here she is. Lovely eh?

Press conference room anyone?

Adios or as they say in these parts Aio.

For match reports on the this trip click on Barakaldo and Portugalete.

The Budget Airlines Guide to Bilbao

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