“My knowledge of football is just ridiculous”, my Irish friend Oisin said over cake and the spinach milkshake that tastes slightly strange but makes him feel healthy.
“Don’t
worry, so is mine”, I laughed. Turned out he meant “Ridiculously
good”. I stopped laughing.
When
I came up with the idea of 52 Things, I knew a football game would
have to be in the cards. It’s hard to talk about Spain
and Andalusia and ignore most people’s favourite sport. So
I told Oisin about my plan and he suggested we got tickets for the following
week. Sevilla FC would be playing in the Cup quarter finals.
“What
are the cup quarter finals?” I had to ask.
“Well,
you know, what comes before the semi-finals”.
“Is
that to do with the League?”
He
sighed. It was clear I’d have to do a little research.
As
you may have guessed by now, not only is my football knowledge ridiculously
bad, but I have also very little interest in the whole thing. I don’t support
any team in particular, I just support good atmosphere. I’ll watch a game
only if the country in which I am at that moment is playing, with the exception
of England, who is way too crazy about their football. Obviously, in the 8
years I was living there, I did attend some games at first. I’d even gone as
far as buying the official shirt and flag. However, I started having second
thoughts the day I nearly got hit by a chair inside the pub, one time that
Beckham missed his penalty.
Up
until last week, I’d only been to one live football game in my life:
“Barcelona-Real
Madrid, Supercopa 2012,”
I would tell people, and then pause for effect.
It
never failed.
Most
people also agreed: any game I would watch after this would just fail to
compare. Bearing that in mind, I started preparing for the cup quarter finals.
Surely, even if my interest in the sport was limited, there should be some fun
facts to learn.
So
I read about the difference between the Cup and the European League. I learnt
that Sevilla FC is one of the oldest clubs in Spain, and it was originally made
up of only British players. Hence the FC for “Football Club” instead of CF
“Club de Fútbol”. I also learnt that Sánchez Pizjuán –the stadium, has a
capacity of 45.000, over half that of Camp Nou and that Spain as a national
team has never once lost a game there.
Interesting
facts stop here.
"How
about the anthem?" I asked Oisin as he slowly sipped his green
beverage. I was wondering if it would be best to learn the lyrics. The new hymn
was such a hit when it came out 10 years ago, that it topped the charts and
took over the old one. The fans chant it at the opening of every game.
“Laaaaa,
la la la la”,
Oisin sang upon request, as low as possible in case we were surrounded by Betis
fans.
Real
Betis is Sevilla’s favourite enemy. As part of my research project, I also read
a lot of Sevilla-Betis jokes, but the ones I understood were so bad that
I wouldn't dare to mention them here. We wouldn't want
to ruin such a serious and well-informed article, right?
This
takes us to Thursday evening, just minutes before the game. I met Oisin outside
the stadium. All tickets were sold out which meant he could only get row 1
tickets across from the cameras, which also meant we might be on TV.
“I
suppose that’s good for the blog if we are”. I don’t really like to appear
on TV, but you have to stay practical.
As
it turned out, row 1 wasn’t actually the first row, but we were still really
close to the pitch and to the “Biris” to our right.
“They’re
the ultras” Oisin
explained.
“The
Ultras?”
I hadn’t read about those.
“Ultra
fanatical supporters”. Or, as I would put it, they’re the
crazy ones that sing the loudest. Their repertory is endless and they
never tire to jump up and down. The good thing is that you only need to know a
few words to be able to sing along. I actually believe I now have the knowledge
necessary to write a “Singing at Football Games for Dummies” manual book.
Take
this one for example, a tribute to a dead local player. You sing it just like “Can’t take my eyes
of off you” but
instead of “I love you baby and if it’s quite alright…”, you replace it by
the guy’s name:
“Antonio Puerta, lalalalala, Antonio
Puerta”. Very easy.
Actually,
as a general rule, if you ever forget the lyrics, you can replace anything by
either lololo, lalala or oe oe oe. Even the Biris do
it. Or perhaps they haven’t quite found the right rhyme yet. These things may
take time for all I know.
Most
other canticos sevillistas also use the melody of other songs
such as “Guantanamera” (just replace
the original lyrics by “Blanca y roja”, the team colours) or, the biggest surprise of the
day… the French anthem.
Now,
I am not one to sing my national anthem unless I really must. But since it
turns out that the fans have borrowed the entire melody of the Marseillaise and
changed only the lyrics, I found myself happily singing along. For this one,
the rule is, instead of “Aux armes citoyens”, you say “Oe, Sevilla oe”. I filled the
blanks by I singing in French and I was the first one surprised.
45
minutes later, after an unconvincing first half, the score was still 0-0 but
I had learnt a few things. Namely that sitting by a barrier is fun if you
intend to bang on it, but less so if you want to lean your knees against it;
that the huevos the fans are singing about are not eggs but
testicles ( the motto “Échale Huevos” is not part of the instructions for a Spanish
tortilla recipe but rather some manly advice to “Give it some Balls”),
and, last but not least, that a football stadium is one of the only places on
earth where the queue for the ladies is shorter than the men’s. The latter, we
overheard, was “peor que el paro”-worse than at the job centre.
Trust me, in Andalucía, that’s saying a lot.
As
a football illiterate, one of the things I struggle with at live games is
following the action without the comments from the TV. Mind you, I could never
understand what the guy was saying, but the tone of voice used is usually a
good indication of the level of excitement I’m supposed to be feeling.
This
is why, in the very last minute of Thursday’s game, I found myself cluelessly
looking at the sky and missed an impressive goal by Sevilla FC. Some things you
can teach yourself with Wikipedia, others though, you find out through
experience and mistakes. Lesson learnt.
Sadly,
the one goal wasn't enough to stay in the championship. It’s not all
over, tough… there’s still the Liga. That’s the thing with football,
there’s always some tournament of some sort just to annoy the rest of us
wanting to have a quiet evening in without having to hear the neighbour shout
and cry across the patio.
Did
I enjoy the game though? Very much so. As to whether it compared to the
experience at Camp Nou… You guessed it: not even close.
So
what now, I hear you wonder? Well, while I'm not planning on standing
in a stadium again in the near future, I wouldn't pass up a
really good opportunity either.
That
way, maybe, while the men on the pitch gather the huevos to
score, my personal goal will be to actually not miss any.
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