Confusion reigns in Spain

The XXXVIII Trofeo Ciudad de El Puerto

I was hoping that this was going to be a report of my experiences at the Trofeo Ramón de Carranza. Hosted by Cádiz CF for the past 55 years, this prestigious pre-season tournament has seen the likes of Real Madrid, Barcelona, AC Milan and São Paulo take to the field before the rumbustious yet ever good-natured Cadistas.

Unfortunately, despite my best efforts to coincide my stay in Spain within the usual weekend of the tournament, the confirmed 2010 Trofeo Carranza dates meant that instead of watching Espanyol, Aléti, Sevilla and Los Amarillos tussle it out for quite possibly the biggest (in terms of physical size) trophy in world football, I would be wrestling with tent poles in the pouring Derbyshire rain.

So, after a couple of frustrating weeks of scouring websites for potential friendly fixtures that I could feasibly fit around my trips between Malaga, Granada and the Cádiz region, I finally found one, and right on the proverbial doorstep. The XXXVIII Trofeo Ciudad de El Puerto would be taking place in my old hometown of El Puerto de Santa Maria at the club my father made a handful of appearances for way back when. It would simply be rude of me not to go. This triangular tournament of 45-minute games would feature Cádiz, San Fernando Club Deportivo and hosts Racing Club Portuense. 

El Puerto de Santa Maria’s home of football.

For a club that has spent its entire history in the lower leagues of Spanish football (and indeed will start the new season in Tercera División - Group 10) Racing Club Portuense’s Estadio José del Cuvillo has an impressive capacity of 8,600. The vast majority of which is accounted for in a cantilever grandstand smartly bedecked (and it pains me to admit this as a Wednesdayite) with red and white seats. 

Not your average red light district.

However, the approach to the stadium is rather less salubrious, as the surrounding woods are a well-known haunt for the town’s prostitutes. But unlike their British counterparts, who patrol the grubby inner-city back streets, El Puerto de Santa Maria’s ‘ladies of the night’ (and indeed broad daylight) can be found in groups of two or three, lolling around on plastic garden chairs under the cooling shade of the pines - and with temperatures in Andalucía regularly touching 40°C in the summer months, who can blame them?

“Ooh, is there a match on tonight?” asked one with genuine surprise as we passed them. Now, I’d have thought they’d have checked Racing’s fixtures to see if their ‘business’ would be affected tonight, one way or the other. Trying to ignore the dusty remnants of condoms strewn around the club’s car park (a situation that a sandal-wearing missus Sal was less than pleased with) we purchased our tickets through a hole in the wall of the main stand so small it made me wonder if the overly cheery disposition of the teenage girl who served us wasn’t just a form of claustrophobia induced hysteria.

Football badge aficionados will no doubt note the resemblance to the Sevilla crest.

Behind the stand we grabbed a couple of cañas of Cruzcampo from the small but perfectly formed bar area and examined the Ciudad de El Puerto trophy itself which, along with its mini runners-up version, were elegantly yet modestly displayed on a table. The only security guard in sight was more interested in keeping a vigil on the entrance to the ladies’ toilets.


After waiting five minutes to see if we’d get to have a go on the table football game, the lure of a throbbing euro pop soundtrack interspersed with the triumphant cry of “Viva Racing!” from the club’s anthem was too much to resist and it was time to take our places for the night’s events…

€1 cervezas more than make up for the lack of chicken balti pies.

Up for the cup - or should that be glass?

San Fernando CD v Cádiz CF

I’d decided against wearing my Cádiz home shirt (circa 2004) mainly out of respect for my dad’s old team, but as Los Amarillos ran out to face San Fernando Club Deportivo for the first of the night’s three matches the cries of derision aimed at them from the fans in blue surrounding us made me glad I hadn’t nailed my colours to the mast.

The town of San Fernando lies just a few miles south of Cádiz and is also part of the same peninsula that looks out over the North Atlantic Sea. The original incarnation of the club, Club Deportivo San Fernando – like so many of Spain’s smaller clubs - went to the wall in 2009 but quickly reformed, retaining the traditional club crest and colours and simply flipping their name around.

The Ultras assemble.

The Cadistas acclimatise themselves to lower division stadia once again.

Cádiz’s new Serbian coach, Hristo Vidakovic, had decided to give a number of youth players a run out, which explained why only a handful of Cadistas had turned up. A spritely first 20 minutes saw the ball pinging small clouds of dust from the artificial turf and San Fernando’s Sergio Beato catching the eye with some neat flicks. With his unkempt long hair and socks around the ankles, it was brilliant to see the kind of old-school winger mimicked up and down British schoolyards in the ‘80s.

With neither keeper being really tested, the Racing fans, impatiently waiting to see their own team in action, decided to liven things up by making a nuisance of themselves, passing around a megaphone and bellowing indecipherable words of 'encouragement' at the players.

Megaphone madness from the Pieles Rojas.

San Fernando fans enjoy getting one over their old rivals.

Then, with just 8 minutes left, the game suddenly came to life. Confusion in the Cádiz back four resulted in a poor back header that let in Ivan Guerrero and he held his nerve under pressure to give San Fernando the lead. Shortly after the restart, Beato added to his maverick image by getting himself sent off for reacting to a late challenge. To be fair it was a little harsh on him as the Cádiz defender made a real meal of it. The usual hand-bags ensued and the cries of “¡Cabrone!” from the incensed San Fernando fans were directed towards the referee, who could easily pass as Leo Messi’s older brother. As if the abuse was giving him some perverse pleasure, he then booked San Fernando’s Puli for a rather innocuous challenge.

Despite coming under some late pressure, San Fernando held on to the absolute delight of particularly vocal adolescent fan who, in a crude twist of Los Amarillos' popular chant, screamed “Puta Cadiz Oe!”. I honestly though a blood vessel in his neck was about to burst.

Now I must admit what happened next caught me on the hop a bit. I thought I’d I stand up to stretch my legs and take a few snaps before the second match started (missus Sal had even gone for cerverzas) when it became apparent that a penalty shoot-out had began. Thinking I’d somehow inexplicably blacked out and missed a Cádiz equaliser, I asked the fella in front of me what the dickens was going off, he said the results of these spot-kicks would be used to settle things in the event of any ties. Cádiz went 4-1 up with just two pens left for San Fernando but, bizarrely, the shoot-out continued until both teams had taken five each with neither adding to the score.

Racing Club Portuense v Cadiz CF

The next game saw the hosts take on Cádiz and they certainly made a ‘Racing’ start by putting the ball in the net inside two minutes, only for our Messi-a-like friend (who was running the line for this encounter) to raise his flag for offside.

Whilst Cádiz had been testing the Racing keeper, the San Fernando fans had been on snack run. As plates of tapas were passed around the stands they kindly included us in the rounds and we tucked into some delicious fried fish and bread sticks – a far cry from the stodgy, lukewarm pies at your average League One ground I can tell you.

All the game’s goals came in a frenetic ten-minute spell. Racing took the lead from Mere’s looping header before two almost identical defensive lapses of concentration allowed first Hugo García and then Arriaga to neatly slot home from close range and give Los Amarillos victory.

Fully prepared for a penalty shoot-out this time, I carefully made note of the score. Yet, once again I needed some confirmation on exactly what was going on. With all ten kicks taken and the score standing at 4-4, instead of entering a tense sudden-death scenario the players simply trudged off the pitch. The San Fernando fan who’d originally explained the penalty scenario now seemed unsure himself. 

"Sod the last game lads, let's just get ourselves off."

San Fernando CD v Racing Club Portuense

A win for San Fernando in the final match would make things simple, a second victory would mean they’d be taking home the aptly sherry glass shaped silverware.

But it was Racing who took the lead in the 10^th minute, after sloppy defending allowed Villalustre to sprint through and bundle the ball through the keeper’s legs. This sparked a good old song and dance from the Racing Ultras as one of them played their Shakira mobile phone ringtone through the megaphone. The swaying of hips soon came to an abrupt end when San Fernando turned the game on its head, with two goals in as many minutes. On 15 minutes Juanmi raced through to poke home, and then after some neat play down the left side, was at the far post to nod in his second.

Night falls on the Estadio José del Cuvillo.

The game had a real cup final feel to it now and in the 23^rd minute the large San Fernando contingent, clearly taking this tournament seriously, sensed the glory of a match winning third goal. But as their attack broke down Racing hit them with a lightning break. Villalustre found himself in a frankly ridiculous amount of space and calmly rounded the keeper who’d manically sprinted way out his area, to slot home.

In my experience, most football fans seem to think that their own club has the exclusive rights to carelessly throwing leads away, and the resigned moaning and groaning around me confirmed that the San Fernando faithful were no different. 

Like some self-fulfilling prophecy, San Fernando’s confidence visibly drained and Racing, clearly sensing that the game was theirs for the taking, did just that with two minutes to go. Good link up play down the right side saw the ball chipped into that man Villalustre, who had the time to direct a volley past the sprawling keeper and claim a glorious hat-trick.

Name on the cup?

At the full-time whistle we started to mull over just who would be crowned 38^th winners of the Trofeo Ciudad de El Puerto. Each team had won one game a piece but we assumed that Cádiz held the advantage by winning and then drawing their penalty shoot-outs. So, going into the final spot-kicks we assumed that Racing needed to win to match Los Amarillos’ record, which they did 3-1. This sparked scenes of jubilation amongst the Racing players and as we again tried to find someone who could explain the maths behind the ensuing madness, San Fernando were presented the runners-up trophy and Racing the main prize. Any protestations from the Cádiz players/officials failed to materialise as – to further add to the farcical nature of the night - it appeared that they’d actually left the stadium by this point. 

Well someone had to win it...

As we made our way to the exits scratching our heads, the helpful San Fernando fan came back to us with what initially seemed a definitive explanation of how the tournament had been decided, but he failed to convince even himself with this new theory and again threw his hands to the air. At this point I’m rather proud to say that I chipped in with my own bit of Andalucían humour, by declaring that the night’s true winners were the excellent fried fish. Well, it was enough to make our new friend’s wife laugh anyway.

As the fans dispersed into the balmy night, one car was conspicuous in heading towards the ground. It stopped halfway down the track leading to the stadium car park and the driver hopped out and disappeared into the woods. A rather robust looking prostitute then lumbered towards the trees to apparently complete a transaction far less complicated than the rules of the Trofeo Ciudad de El Puerto.