In Seville, at the Derby, Trying to Sing Along

Paul Gerald · Profile
In Seville, at the Derby, Trying to Sing Along

I will never know what it is like to be a fan at El Gran Derbi.

I know the general flavor of a derby, of course, because my sports life has certainly had rivalries. When I was a kid in Memphis, Ole Miss losing a football game to Mississippi State made my world less joyful; losing to Tennessee made my life at school much more painful; and losing to Memphis State left me stunned and stumbling around like a zombie.

These days, it’s “my” Portland Timbers against the Seattle Sounders, but as I get older, and farther from my life in Portland, even that fades. I still wish the Sounders would lose every game they play, of course, but now I say that with a wink and a smile. And I know it’s more about what kind of league MLS is becoming – dominated by big cities and big-money clubs – than the fortunes of two clubs up in the northwest corner of the country. It’s just “sports hate,” part of the game.

I hope, but again can’t know, that the fans of Sevilla and Real Betis engage in “sports hate.” Certainly, on the day of the game, it often doesn’t look like it. I was staying a hotel next to the Sevilla stadium, and the occasional person in Betis green would walk or bike by, and there was certainly some banter. It sounded angry but also seemed to have the same wink and smile.

The visitors tucked up in the far corner — to be safe?

But when it came time for a big group of them to enter the stadium, police in riot gear closed several streets, a helicopter hovered overhead, and the little group of green … whatever they were being called … was greeted with whistles and middle fingers. Some of them even stopped to toss a few lines at their flag-waving enemies on balconies above, but ultimately it all felt harmless. Let’s hope the cops were just playing it safe.

(I read later there was some fighting in the street post-game, but I didn’t see it. Even if it was just a handful of people, out of 50,000 at the game, it would make the news.)

But I will never know anyone’s state of mind that weekend, because while I was at Sevilla-Betis, possibly the most heated rivalry in Spanish football, I am not of it. And I thought a lot about that during my time in town. And not just around the game.

I actually know an American living in Seville, and we’ve worked together, so I offered to buy her lunch. She countered with a lunch at her place with some other friends. And that turned out to be paella cooked on a patio with a palm tree and a church tower overhead, and a selection of hams, and wine, and for a minute I was thinking this is the most Spanish day I’ve had since I moved to Spain. Also, the paella master, a Betista, assured me they had Sevilla “by the balls.” He told me what a mess the club is in, with a former president in jail for embezzling and the current board fighting each other. All news to me as an outsider.

Later, it occurred to me that of the eight people there, only one, the chef, was in fact Spanish, an old friend of the family. So was it a Spanish day? Or was it, perhaps, some Americans’ recreation of their Spanish Dream Life? I didn’t care, because the paella was out of this world, but it set a certain tone for the day.

A stadium packed with people and emotions.

As I walked from her place in the old town back out towards the stadium, I looked at all the tourists crowding into sidewalk cafes to eat tapas and drink sangría, and I saw the signs for Flamenco shows, and I heard staff speaking English, and I wondered again: Is this Seville? Or am I walking over to the real Seville?

One thing I knew: Unlike all those tourists, every one of those staff, and my taxi driver from the train station, and the people at the party, and probably everyone living in Sevilla, whether they cared or not, knew it was derby day.

Sevilla vs Betis is as heated as it gets in Spain, and the fact they sat 10th and 14th in the table that morning didn’t mean a thing. It may even add something to it: Neither will win a trophy, so they must at least win this one. It divides the city down the middle, red and green, through families and workplaces and relationships and everything. I imagined tourists looking up from their plates and locals walking by with scarves, and thinking “Oh, there must be a game today. You know they love soccer over here.”

Fact is, those are my potential clients, so I don’t make fun of them. I just wanted to shake them and say, No, the game is today, it’s what matters in town, and you should go! In fact, for me it was a work trip, checking out a hospitality package and partnering up with a YouTuber. No coincidence, though, that I chose the derby to attend.

I was attending with the YouTuber Andrew of Because Football, who was occasionally speaking to his GoPro, offering his take on what was happening around us. We watched the fans marching, and he interviewed some folks, and we stood outside the stadium taking it all in for a minute. Then we went into the lounge, where the food was kind of crap and the poor staff had to act nice with a bunch of mostly foreigners who will probably never come again. We shared a table with a Brit and an American who had just been shown around by an Irishman on a city tour.

We took our seats among Spaniards we wouldn’t speak to the whole game, and we were witness to a level of passion that could hardly be understood. My favorite moment was a young woman a few rows below us, dressed impeccably and really quite lovely, hair just so, and when the Betis players headed in after warmups she bolted out of her seat, raised two middle fingers in their direction, and gave herself over to what I am sure was some exquisite cursing.

Though we visitors agreed the level of play wasn’t the highest, every moment was intense, the highs and lows of the people around us more than I would have been able to bear. I can barely stand a Timbers game emotionally, and that’s been happening just over 40 years. This goes back generations.

Defending a corner.

When Sevilla scored the only goal, people were hugging in large groups, aiming middle fingers at the green-clad losers in the corner, and shouting things I wish to goodness I could understand.

I will never be one of them, but it’s my dream to do so. For now, all I can do is learn what I can – about the game, the city, and the clubs – and try to be the best visitor I can. It’s why my company exists: to help others do the same.

I’m certainly not perfect at that; for example, when a player named Jesus Navas came on towards the end of the game, and tens of thousands of people chanted his name, I knew it was his last season, but I didn’t know he was a local guy, entered the club’s academy as a little boy, left for a few seasons in England, and today was setting the record for most appearances in the local derby. (I got all that later from another taxi driver.) After the game, his teammates put him on their shoulders in front of the flag-waving ultras, and he bounced up and down like he was still that little boy from the local pueblo.

Postgame celebrations

The one thing I did do, which felt like a big step in the right direction, was find the lyrics to the song. Right before the game, the Sevilla fans sing an anthem considered one of the best around. (Betis has a fine one, as well.)

I didn’t manage to memorize it, such is my lack of skill with Spanish and commitment in general. But with a sea of upheld phones all around, everyone getting a video of something that everyone else has a video of, and which they will probably never watch, I had my phone up, as well – but with the lyrics. I could barely keep up, but I tried, and there was a moment when my voice blended in with those around me, and I felt … connection, was it? Identification? Maybe just satisfaction that I had made the effort?

Sevilla, Sevilla, Sevilla

aquí estamos contigo, Sevilla

compartiendo la gloria en tu escudo, orgullo del fútbol de nuestra ciudad”.

Sevilla, Sevilla, Sevilla

Here we are with you, Sevilla

Sharing the glory in your crest, pride of football in our city.

We came, we watched, we analyzed, we took notes and videos and pictures, we “did” the Derbi de Sevilla, same as the tapas-eating tourists “did” Seville. But I comforted myself with the belief that I took a step beyond the old town, and into the real one, the local one.

At least I knew the game was on, at least I had an idea how much it mattered, and at least I tried to sing along.

 

Written By Paul Gerald
Paul Gerald, Owner and Founder of Groundhopper Soccer Guides · Profile
Paul started Groundhopper Soccer Guides as EnglishSoccerGuide.com in 2014. He has been to more than 250 games around the UK and Europe, and he currently lives in Madrid.

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