When Burgos Flirted With Fifth

On the way to the station in Burgos, I told my taxista that I had been to the game the day before. He looked at me in the rearview mirror and first said, in Spanish, “Me, too.” He paused and then, clearly surprised, added, “You went to the game?”

He didn’t have to explain; I knew he was processing why a clearly foreign person would go to a second-division game in a small city two hours from Madrid. I cut off his calculations by saying “Fue interesante cuando Castellón concedió un gol, ¿verdad?”

It was interesting when Castellón gave up a goal, wasn’t it?

They were happier before the game.

His eyes bulged. I had entered a password of sorts and gained access to a parallel world. With one sentence, I was transformed from “foreigner who went to the game” to “dude who understands that for about 10 minutes there, with Castellón and Eibar level, Burgos were in the promotion playoff spots for a place in La Liga! When news of that goal hit, the whole stadium burst into song.

“Sí,” he said with a sigh. “Estábamos quinto un rato, pero no estamos subiendo.” We were fifth for a while, but we’re not going up.

Bienvenudos a la Segunda División!

Castellón scored, and 11,000 people at the packed and increasingly nervous stadium by the river in Burgos spent the next 25 minutes – the last of the season – watching the game and our phones, desperately hoping somebody, somewhere would just score a damn goal and move the white-and-blacks from 7th and outside the playoff spots to somewhere in them. They haven’t been in La Primera, which is what Spaniards call La Liga, for 30 years.

The final whistle after a 1-0 win for Burgos over Andorra was met with an awkward near-silence, and for a few minutes everyone stared at phones, fans cursing the poor internet connection, players and coaches in little huddles on the pitch. An ordinary visitor would be wondering why no one seemed happy.

Dual frustrations: needing help and a better connection.

Eibar? Valladolid? Zaragoza? La Coruña? Did anybody score?

Tense moments postgame.

Nope. All the teams that Burgos needed to not win instead all won — by a single goal each. Burgos finished in 7th because Castellón scored four more goals than they did over 42 games. Ganaron, pero no celebraron. They won, but they didn’t celebrate.

Sometimes I think these taxi conversations are really what it’s all about. Sure, I visit football grounds to tick them off the list; to see an interesting game; to investigate places, like Burgos, where we sell tickets, so that I’ll have the marketing and customer service materials I need in case somebody ever decides to go there.

But really, I do it to talk to the taxi drivers, the waiters, the hotel clerks, the seat neighbors. And I do it to chase these interesting experiences that aren’t so much about the game as about the world of supporters, spending a sunny afternoon at the stadium with all your friends, hoping that maybe this time things will fall your way and you’ll get a shot at accomplishing something.

Pregame

One of my finest moments was chatting for 15 minutes with a Florence taxi driver, alternating between how to store the olive oil I had purchased from a producer in the countryside, the midfield problems Fiorentina had that season, and the fact that their young striker was certain to leave – just please, the driver said, please not to Juventus. For 15 minutes, I was as Italian as I will ever be.

The striker went to Juventus. Of course he did. And Burgos will be back in Segunda División next season. I’m halfway “done” with that league. Nobody ever asks for tickets there. The olive oil was a revelation. And the drivers and I, plus those 11,000 people down by the river, shared moments that are exactly what I come looking for.

Want to see a game in Spain? Hit that big red button at the top of this post, and we’ll be in touch.