You get a sense of what a game at Rayo Vallecano will be like before you even get there.

You want to go to a game at Rayo Vallecano? Great. So you look on the website for tickets and see they are on sale at the stadium three days before the game. Only at the stadium. So you go down there, get in a short line, stumble through with your not-so-great Spanish, and 10 minutes later you have a ticket. Just not online.

The next shock is walking out of the Portazgo Metro station.

Twenty minutes ago, you were surrounded by tourists in Sol, at the center of the city, with vendors hawking rip-off Real Madrid shirts and a guy dressed up like Super Mario, trying to squeeze a few Euros out of the throng of visitors. Then you were on a train with workers, students, and shoppers, a crowd slowly thinning out while also picking up a few more football shirts at each station. You don’t hear a word of English the whole time.

Embedded in the barrio: The Metro and the Estadio.

And then you’re climbing the stairs to street level, looking up at the concrete underside of the stadium, hearing and feeling the buzz of pregame on the sidewalk: the chatter, the shouting, the vendors, the traffic, the singing. It’s a stadium in a neighborhood, right on top of a Metro station, with bars across the street and murals on the wall and people greeting old friends all over the block.

If this was the second division, the scene would fit. But it’s La Liga, and the opponents tonight are Barcelona. In a 17,000-seat stadium.

Headed for the game

Not even room for four stands!

Pregaming

Across the street is a full block of bars, cafes, and outdoor tables, all packed with noise, smells and smiles. Even the occasional Barca shirt wandering through doesn’t cause a stir. In England there would be a war, but here it’s just all part of the experience, everybody supporting their team, enjoying a warm August evening in Madrid, in a working-class part of town where the local team just happened to make the big time.

Mural across the street.

You walk across the street to admire the new, giant mural, and you catch a vibe from down the side street. A tightly-packed crowd is down there, singing and clapping, so you head that way. You get out your phone to shoot a video, and within seconds, somebody is yelling at you to put it down. This over here is not for the internet; it’s for the locals. You think maybe that’s a little quaint, but at least they’re trying. You decide you definitely won’t challenge it.

The stadium on the street.

Soon that crowd is marching across the street, so you follow along, over past the boxing gym and the locker room entrance and the visiting team bus parked on the street, and you go into the stadium. It’s only 17,000 seats, with nothing close to fancy to be seen. The name is just Estadio de Vallecas, or Campo de Futbol de Vallecas. Vallecas is the neighborhood.

To the seats

You make your way through the tunnel and into your seat: a slab of plastic glued onto the concrete terrace. Everyone around you is chatting and greeting one another, waving to friends in other rows, the first home game of the season after a long, hot Madrid summer.

Warming up in front of you is about a billion Euros worth of footballer, including the 17-year-old hero of Spain’s European championship summer, Lamine Yamal. They are all slick and sleek and glowing with talent. Beyond them is a wall with an enormous banner reading Siempre en nuestro recuerdo, “Always in our memory.” Beyond that is an apartment building with people on balconies, beers in hand.

¡Vamos!

Before the game there’s a buzz of excitement: A Rayo player will be given a walk of honor by both teams so he can show off his Euros winner’s medal. Barelona has several of those. The ultras who marched in hold up a banner reading “For us, this shirt is sacred.” A new player, somewhere in the seats with the directors, is introduced, and everybody cranes their necks to get a view.

Free kick in attack.

The game starts, and Rayo take a shock lead. Everybody goes nuts, hugging and waving scarves and singing. No possible chance one goal wins this, but an entire offseason of hope and expectation is released at once — but little of it seems aimed at the Barca fans in the corner. In England, there would be chants of “Who Are Ya” and wanker signs all over. Here it’s just summer and warmth and happiness.

Barcelona eventually take over, of course. So much money. And they score two, both from another guy with a Euros medal. But at the end, Rayo push and push, and they get one big chance, a ball across the goal, a lunging leg just shy of it, an enormous OH comes out of the crowd, and we all know that was it. The chance for a point. Not taken.

Defending a corner

Then the whistle blows, and it’s over, and the money won again, on the pitch at least. In the stands, it’s See you next week, and We almost had ’em, and I can’t wait to see the new guy. Some kids are trying to get Yamal’s shirt, but there are no tourists rushing down to the rail to hold up a scarf for a photo. Look for that at other Madrid clubs.

For the locals, it’s 11 pm, time for something to eat, and then work in the morning. Barca will go on to chase trophies and glory, with an army of media tracking every move and word. And Rayo, whatever the result, whatever the league, will be right here in the neighborhood, grabbing a sandwich, singing a song and walking across the street to the game.