It is the people that make a stadium breathe, and at Vallecas, lungs fill with an irrepressible pride
Rayo is undoubtedly a barrio club
My matchday at Vallecas starts in the a.m. The coffee is functional, sweetened by sugar from a packet adorned with the Cafeteria Lider name.
The tortilla wedge is thick and comforting, the hunk of bread alongside it set to provide important ballast ahead of the nighttime adventures to come.
While most fans in La Liga gather QR codes and online barcodes in the days before matchday, at Estadio de Vallecas, home of Rayo Vallecano, the personal touch is still required to secure your spot amongst its broken beauty.
The 11 am ticket office queue was the first in a long list of reminders that football here is just a little bit different.
Rayo is undoubtedly a barrio club; the red and white lightning of La Franja decorate buildings and flash across bars.
To be born into Vallecas is to be born into Rayo, but it is a club and community that can, at times, feel caught in a contradiction.
Supporters who historically lean left have to exist alongside an owner who trends in the opposite direction.
It is a place that celebrates its community and diversity but has become suspicious of tourists who are seen at the heart of rising prices in one of Madrid’s more modest barrios.
A sticker in the toilets of one of the bars asks tourists to go home, although the words used are far less convivial. A sentiment that I can understand but also question.
The irony, of course, is that it is the strong identity of the club’s supporters, often led by Los Bukaneros’ noisy consciousness, that attracts football fans to experience a night dancing through the barrio’s character-filled bars.
Vallecas is where romance and reality can collide
The sight of the main stand emerging from the darkness as you ascend the steps of the Portazgo metro station is one of football’s greatest welcomes, and there is an infectious buzz in the air as bars spill out onto the streets.
Vallecas is where romance and reality can collide. Hemmed in at all four sides, space is so tight that the only view from one of the ends comes from the flats that tower behind it as the sun sets and bleeds through the walkways that lead into the three-tiered terraces that flank it.
Stone curves and sticker speckled walls are a feast for the eyes but the lake that occupies where I am scheduled to sit is a reminder of its need for architectural remediation, but, if this was to become all shiny and new, a place that offers online sales and a terrace that doesn’t need to come with water wings should it rain a little bit, would people still come?
I think so because it is the people that make a stadium breathe, and at Vallecas, lungs fill with an irrepressible pride in being part of a community that has football at its beating heart.
A fact best displayed at the full-time whistle of a 4-0 defeat against a struggling Espanyol, a fellow big city side used to operating in the shadows of more illustrious neighbours.
The atmosphere is raucous; there is disappointment in defeat, but the streets post-match are still filled with good spirit. Beers are still being drunk, and, given it’s a Friday, for many, the night has only just begun.
A matchday at Vallecas may be long, but it is also very special.
ALL WORDS AND IMAGES BY THE EXCELLENT CHRIS MARSHALL.
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