Real Madrid CF

La Noche en Blanco

Real Madrid 1-0 Osasuna (11:10:10)

It took less than the time it takes for the board to revolve for me to put pen to paper and sign up for three Spanish European football weekends in a row. It wasn´t all going to be about futbol on this trip, but you know, I quite like it and that.

First up was a return visit to the Bernabeu to see Jose Mourinho try and maintain his record of not having lost a domestic home match for around seventy-five years.

I was hoping the match would be a little more entertaining than the pre-match blurb. It would be very easy to lay the blame squarely at the feet of Real Madrid winger Pedro Leon - so lets do it. His press conference beforehand consisted of the following "It won´t be easy. I am sure it will be a difficult match and they [Osasuna] will give us some troubles. We need to focus on ourselves. We just hope that we do well in our next match, as well as those that follow." And people ask me why I prefer to interview football journalists rather than players.

Prior to the match, my wife and I sank a few beers in a museum - as you do. The Museo de Jamon has got a little more touristy over the years, but any place that sells over 100 varieties of ham and cheese, and has a few stalls around a bar which knocks out beers for €1 a pop gets my vote.

Look who joined us in the Museo de Jamon.

How do I get a ticket to see Real Madrid is a question I get asked all the time. Well, aside from the Barcelona match (impossible I´m afraid, unless you have very deep pockets) it´s not too difficult. The official website now has a very user friendly ticket option, but I thought I´d take my chances outside.

Match tickets start at €45 if you fancy watching the action unfold in the 4th tier, and rise to a whopping €100 for a pitch-side seat. With individual match tickets costing so much, a season ticket makes perfect sense, and they can be brought for as little as €226. With this in mind, lots of socios choose to sell their tickets on match days and make a tidy profit in the process.

I was lucky enough to met a chap called Jose outside (Jose? You couldn´t make it up - Ed.). Jose sold his season ticket to me for €35, and with a swipe of his credit card I was in. I´m unsure as to whether this was all above board, but this wasn´t really the time for questions. I got my head down, made no eye contact with security and plonked myself down in my seat, ten rows from the front of the action. Lovely.

How to make 25 instant new best friends in the Bernabeu Part 1: Tell those around you that Barca are about to lose to Hercules at the Camp Nou. I did this, then several minutes later it was confirmed on the big screen, and the quizzical looks I´d previously received turned into pats on the back.

Rub yer eyes and look at that. Barcelona 0-2 Hercules. Gulp.

The Ultras Sur not too disappointed with events in Barcelona.

The Ultras Sur struck up with a celebratory rendition of the Barca anthem, with a slightly alternative ending of "Barca, Barca, MIERDA (shit)". The rest of the stadium just clapped along politely and blew the odd vuvuzela.

Seeing as this was Mourinho´s first game in charge, I was fairly surprised with the muted reception he received as he emerged. In fact, returning Osasuna coach Camacho - who spent fifteen years as a player here, as well as a couple of brief stints as coach - was welcomed back with much warmer applause. Evidently, you have to earn the respect of the crowd at theBernabeu. Reputations, and they´ve seen a few come and go here, count for nothing.

As it happened, Cristiano Ronaldo did play. He was absent for the midweek internationals due to ankle-knack, but in a nod to Ryan Giggs, he made a miraculous recovery to play for his club. TheMarca newspaper has taken to calling him CR7 this season. That sounds like something out of Star Wars to me. He loves to strike a pose, but during this match, there was nothing to it.

The Bernabeu crowd are notoriously hard to please. And when Khedria dragged a shot wide just before the break, out came the white hankies and wolf whistles. This wasn´t good enough.

Last season, Real Madrid announced a record income of €442.3m. The official website accidentally forgot to mention that they´re still €244.6m in debt, but I have an idea of how they can clear that. All you can buy at half time is cans of Coke for €3 a go, beer without (without) alcohol and Real Madrid crisps. Of course Real Madrid crisps. Start serving up beer and pies to the 10,000 or so tourists that pitch up at every game and they´d clear that debt at the drop of a sombrero. We want pie.

A crisp profit, but where's our pie?

Ooh it's a corner.

Can he kick it? Yes he can.

Things picked up in the second half. Within minutes of the restart Osasuna had the blind cheek to win a free kick after Cavaliho had scythed down their striker. They rushed forward in numbers, and this was the cue for Ozil to work his magic. Just as he´d done in the World Cup he broke away like a young whippersnapper, ran the length of the pitch and delivered a cross toRonaldo. He shot - he always shoots - it rebounded off the outstanding Ricardo in goal, back to CR7, who then forgot his lines and passed to Cavaliho to cushion a right footer into the net. 1-0.

Ozil oozed class in that second half. He was subbed just before the end and was the recipient of aBernabeu standing ovation for his troubles. He might just be a Real Madrid number 23 that delivers the goods. Unlike the previous incumbent of that shirt.

It's just a step to the left. Ozil teaches the timewarp (again) to Marcelo.

Too much pre-match jamon y queso amigo. He'll be back.

Kick ass.

Unlike the majority of the 70,000 crowd, I stayed until the end. Begrudging applause greeted the final whistle, rather than the boos which were reported back in England by a few journalists that weren´t there [cough] Henry Winter.

Even with a huge crowd, it´s very easy to hop on the metro opposite the stadium and be back in town within 20 minutes. The reason I love Madrid so much is that there is always something happening. After Los Blancos in the Bernabeu it was time for La Noche en Blanco. It´s an annual music and arts festival that sees museums, theatres, cinemas and galleries open all night. Concerts and street performances spring up all over the city. We drank in some culture and then a few beers. Pasar la noche en blanco (no sleep all night) - indeed.

Mañana mañana. A proper Spanish breakfast the next morning did the trick.

For lots more photos from the game CLICK ME.

- Feel free to comment below -

Real Madrid

La Noche en Blanco

Real Madrid 1-0 Osasuna (11:10:10)

Photos will follow upon my return home to England. I´m penning this on a laptop with comfortably the world´s slowest internet connection in the village of Salinas del Manzano, Castilla-La Mancha.

It took less than the time it takes for the board to revolve for me to put pen to paper and sign up for three Spanish European football weekends in a row. It wasn´t all going to be about futbol on this trip, but you know, I quite like it and that.

First up was a return visit to the Bernabeu to see Jose Mourinho try and maintain his record of not having lost a domestic home match for around seventy-five years.

I was hoping the match would be a little more entertaining than the pre-match blurb. It would be very easy to lay the blame squarely at the feet of Real Madrid winger Pedro Leon - so lets do it. His press conference beforehand consisted of the following "It won´t be easy. I am sure it will be a difficult match and they [Osasuna] will give us some troubles. We need to focus on ourselves. We just hope that we do well in our next match, as well as those that follow." And people ask me why I prefer to interview football journalists rather than players.

Prior to the match, my wife and I sank a few beers in a museum - as you do. The Museo de Jamon has got a little more touristy over the years, but any place that sells over 100 varieties of ham and cheese, and has a few stalls around a bar which knocks out beers for €1 a pop gets my vote.

How do I get a ticket to see Real Madrid is a question I get asked all the time. Well, aside from the Barcelona match (impossible I´m afraid, unless you have very deep pockets) it´s not too difficult. The official website now has a very user friendly ticket option, but I thought I´d take my chances outside.

Match tickets start at €45 if you fancy watching the action unfold in the 4th tier, and rise to a whopping €100 for a pitch-side seat. With individual match tickets costing so much, a season ticket makes perfect sense, and they can be brought for as little as €226. With this in mind, lots of socios choose to sell their tickets on match days and make a tidy profit in the process.

I was lucky enough to met a chap called Jose outside (Jose? You couldn´t make it up - Ed.). Jose sold his season ticket to me for €35, and with a swipe of his credit card I was in. I´m unsure as to whether this was all above board, but this wasn´t really the time for questions. I got my head down, made no eye contact with security and plonked myself down in my seat, ten rows from the front of the action. Lovely.

How to make 25 instant new best friends in the Bernabeu Part 1: Tell those around you that Barca are about to lose to Hercules at the Camp Nou. I did this, then several minutes later it was confirmed on the big screen, and the quizzical looks I´d previously received turned into pats on the back.

The Ultras Sur struck up with a celebratory rendition of the Barca anthem, with a slightly alternative ending of "Barca, Barca, MIERDA (shit)". The rest of the stadium just clapped along politely and blew the odd vuvuzela.

Seeing as this was Mourinho´s first game in charge, I was fairly surprised with the muted reception he received as he emerged. In fact, returning Osasuna coach Camacho - who spent fifteen years as a player here, as well as a couple of brief stints as coach - was welcomed back with much warmer applause. Evidently, you have to earn the respect of the crowd at the Bernabeu. Reputations, and they´ve seen a few come and go here, count for nothing.

As it happened, Cristiano Ronaldo did play. He was absent for the midweek internationals due to ankle-knack, but in a nod to Ryan Giggs, he made a miraculous recovery to play for his club. The Marca newspaper has taken to calling him CR7 this season. That sounds like something out of Star Wars to me. He loves to strike a pose, but during this match, there was nothing to it.

The Bernabeu crowd are notoriously hard to please. And when Khedria dragged a shot wide just before the break, out came the white hankies and wolf whistles. This wasn´t good enough.

Last season, Real Madrid announced a record income of €442.3m. The official website accidentally forgot to mention that they´re still €244.6m in debt, but I have an idea of how they can clear that. All you can buy at half time is cans of Coke for €3 a go, beer without (without) alcohol and Real Madrid crisps. Of course Real Madrid crisps. Start serving up beer and pies to the 10,000 or so tourists that pitch up at every game and they´d clear that debt at the drop of a sombrero. We want pie.

Things picked up in the second half. Within minutes of the restart Osasuna had the blind cheek to win a free kick after Cavaliho had scythed down their striker. They rushed forward in numbers, and this was the cue for Ozil to work his magic. Just as he´d done in the World Cup he broke away like a young whippersnapper, ran the length of the pitch and delivered a cross to Ronaldo. He shot - he always shoots - it rebounded off the outstanding Ricardo in goal, back to CR7, who then forgot his lines and passed to Cavaliho to cushion a right footer into the net. 1-0.

Ozil oozed class in that second half. He was subbed just before the end and was the recipient of a Bernabeu standing ovation for his troubles. He might just be a Real Madrid number 23 that delivers the goods. Unlike the previous incumbent of that shirt.

Unlike the majority of the 70,000 crowd, I stayed until the end. Begrudging applause greeted the final whistle, rather than the boos which were reported back in England by a few journalists that weren´t there [cough] Henry Winter.

Even with a huge crowd, it´s very easy to hop on the metro opposite the stadium and be back in town within 20 minutes. The reason I love Madrid so much is that there is always something happening. After Los Blancos in the Bernabeu it was time for La Noche en Blanco. It´s an annual music and arts festival that sees museums, theatres, cinemas and galleries open all night. Concerts and street performances spring up all over the city. We drank in some culture and then a few beers. Pasar la noche en blanco (no sleep all night) - indeed.

- Feel free to comment below -

Magnificent Madrid

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!