Last Sunday, Salman and I attended our first Real Madrid game. It was his first professional soccer game and my second. As an exchange student in 1999, I went to a Rayo Vallecano game in the Vallecas neighborhood—Madrid’s equivalent of the Bronx. Although the Real Madrid crowd was tame compared to my first experience with soccer in Spain (i.e. no one was smoking hash in our section of the stadium or serving up whisky out of a leather bota), a certain electricity charged the air. Whether played in its working-class neighborhoods or in the heart of its capital, soccer is Spain’s modern catharsis.
We sat just two rows away from the playing field, bringing the players and ball into focus, and making every bad call even more egregious. In fact, in the spirit of the game and cultural integration, more than once, Salman and I unquestioningly joined the multi-generational crowd in its condemnation of the referee’s mother.
The game ended with a 3-2 Madrid win over their opponents from Valencia.
Then, just last night, bringing our week to an appropriate end, Salman and I put on our game face again, this time for Super Bowl XLII. We joined our friends and nearly 50 other Yanks for the game between the New York Giants and New England Patriots.
While most Americans watched the game comfortably from home during the late afternoon or early evening, we (the few, the proud, the die-hard, ex-pat football fans) made our way to the pubs of Madrid on a rainy, windy night just before midnight, only to leave just before dawn. We substituted Bud Light for Guinness, nachos supremos for a tiny bowl of potato chips, great American advertising for British public service announcements (thank you, satellite TV); but it was all worth it to see the Patriot's fall from grace in the last minutes of the game and to know that, at least for a few hours, fútbol could coincide with football.
2 comments:
I don't agree with something you say: Vallecas neighborhood is not as bad as the Bronx in New York. It's true that people won't say any marvelous things about it, but It is not that bad as people tend to think. There are worse places than that in Madrid.
Marian :)
Hey Marian. Thanks for your comment. You know, you may be right; I considered making another comparison, such as "Vallecas is like Queens, NY," but decided to leave it the way it was. I think what I was trying to get across to people is that Vallecas is a working-class neighborhood with a lot of pride, and not that it is particularly violent or troubled, or anything like that. I really enjoyed the Rayo Vallecano game and would root for them in a second over Real Madrid... if I were really that interested in futbol ;) Thanks, Marian
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