Madrid in the springtime

ON approach to Atletico’s Vicente Calderon, a stadium that clings onto the banks of the barren Manzanares River, the antipathy towards Real Madrid from supporters of city rivals Atletico is as clear as Castilian spring sky. Stall holders captialise on this angst. For the red and white replica kits of Atletico nestle behind the Anti Madridista t-shirts, available in extra large, large, medium, small, baby and ladies pink.

 “Madrid fans think that being Madrid fans make them someone which irritates the Atletico fans, who are the complete opposite,” says Michael Robinson, Liverpool striker turned Spanish TV presenter. “They’re nicknamed the pupas [gaffed one], and they’re like a stray dog with fleas and wonderful, sad eyes staring up at you. They’ll never win Crufts, whereas Real Madrid won’t even compete at Crufts if they don’t think they are going to win it. I have moments when I think: God, I like Atletico.”

 Atletico Madrid supporters are identifiable. Any football fan that has spent a moderate amount of time in Madrid can spot the difference between a Real and an Atleti supporter. It’s can be something as simple as the way a person sits on a park bench or munches on a lunchtime bocadillo.

 “There are no real geographical differences or religious differences between the clubs – Spain is a Catholic country,” adds, Antonio Sanz, a journalist based in Madrid, who wrote Fernando Torres’ autobiography. “Historically if you look before 1930, there have been no political differences. All I can say is that really, Atleti is more about what’s in your heart as a person. Atleti is the closest thing we have to real life. We take defeat in the same way as victory. With Real, they are something from science fiction.”

 Atletico and Real are clubs with very different identities, and according to their supporters, contrasting destinies. Historically, Real – the Galacticos have long been seen as the club of the establishment. “Real Madrid are the best embassy we ever had,” once said a conservative minister, in reference to the club’s reputation abroad at a time when Franco Spain wasn’t embraced in the international community.

 Atletico fans, by comparison, find their beliefs firmly in ‘sentimeiento de rebeldía’ (a sense of rebellion). The Calderon and Santiago Bernebau, the respective homes of each club, symbolises these distinct characteristics: The Bernabeu, a cathedral of football, stands majestically alongside the worldwide banks and multinational businesses on the classy Castellana in the north of Madrid. It is the closest structure in football to the Coliseum in Rome. The Calderon, meanwhile, can be found beside an abandoned Mahou brewery in the working class south.

IT is here on this chilly Monday night in March when Atletico supporters have something else to complain about. Sitting in a bar sipping cold cerveza 45 minutes before kick off, it is noticeable how few people there are milling around the stadium. Monday night football in Spain is a new concept, initially piloted to deal with the extra games created by the expansion of the UEFA Cup into the Europa League, but now conveniently pressed regularly into the fixture list for television.

 The supporters aren’t happy about it, especially Atleti who unfurl two banners before kick off. One points out ‘SAD + TV = The End,’ and the other, more prominent behind the south stand where the club’s most fanatical fans usually sit, questions. ‘El futbol de los aficionados de las televisions?’ [Is football for armchair supporters?]. The attendance of 25,000, down by half from usual weekend matches, suggests that supporters are prepared to act on their grievances. Not a single Osasuna fan has travelled the five hours from Pamplona, high in the north of Spain.

 “When Atletico fans are unhappy, they’ll let you know,” Robinson continues. “They seem to deal better with defeat than they do victory. It proves they care more. I’ve never seen Atletico fans so unhappy as the year they won the double.” Although Robinson’s view may be exaggerated, he has a point. When Atletico were relegated in 2000 from La Liga, 38,000 fans purchased season tickets the following summer, the highest figure in 13 years and more than the season after they won the league in 1996. Jesus Gil, the club’s firebrand president described it a ‘social phenomenon.’

 From the top of the Calderon’s west facing Main Stand, the view is similarly phenomenal. By kick off, night has fallen but there is a panoramic view of Madrid. In the distance, the lights from the Palacio de Oriente flicker, reflecting off the stadium’s Eastern European style stark looking floodlights. Down below, however, the lack of spectators means more than half of the red, white and blue seating is exposed.

 Monday night football at the Calderon has also arrived at a time when matters on and off the pitch are predictably unsettled at Atletico. Jesus Gil y Gil, the club’s former sloth president who ate managers for breakfast may have gone more than seven years ago but his replacement, Enrique Cerezo has proven equally unpopular.

 Cerezo, who like Gil was found guilty in court of fraudulently acquiring the club when it became a plc, is by day, a cinematographic producer, ie a maker of films. Since his arrival at the top chair in the boardroom, Atletico have continued hiring and firing managers. Eight have come and gone in his time. They include Luis Aragones, latterly the coach of Spain in their successful Euro 2008 campaign, as well as Carlos Bianchi, formerly with Boca Juniors – similarly a capable manager with plenty of experience – but unable to sort out Atletico’s problems.

 The biggest problem here is that Cerezo and Miguel-Angel Gil Marin (son of Jesus and still majority owner of the club) can’t stand each other. Fans argue that this is destroying Atletico from the inside. And slowly.

 The latest particular crisis – this season – began in the final minutes of the transfer window when Atletico sold meat headed defender Johnny Heitinga to Everton. Former coach Abel Resino had Heitinga removed from above "sneakily and undercover of darkness", as one member of the coaching staff put it; at the last minute, and with no chance to get a replacement.

 ‘There was no sign of Miguel Torres (the Real Madrid full back)’ the Guardian wrote, ‘and, sadly, no sign of Rod Fanni (Rennes). There was certainly no sign of the ball-playing midfielder they desperately needed. No wonder the coach Abel Resino went bonkers. No wonder he privately moaned: "This club is a madhouse."’

  The morning after the transfer window closed, Jesus Garcia Pitarch (the sporting director who famously bought Rafa Benitez a lamp in the form of Momo Sissoko when he asked for a sofa at Valencia) gave an unnecessary, hour-long press conference. Picking on someone of his own diminutive own build, he insisted the only signing he regretted making was that of Liverpool’s little Luis Garcia and claimed that he could not sign anybody else because Atletico did not have any money.

 Cerezo came out and snapped: "If there's no money, there's no need for a sporting director." Then Gil Marin came out and said there was money. Then Pitarch escaped to a holiday retreat. Then the fans got angry and out came the banners, the hankerchiefs and the whistling. Then the protests. Atletico are currently mid-table and another season where mediocrity in the league has reigned is just about to finish.

ATLETICO players take to the pre-match handshakes in a tracksuit top while Osasuna, wearing a garish and awful combination of black and aluminous yellow look more like a cycling team preparing to ride over the Pyrenees.

 Within seconds, the visitors’ Iranian midfielder Masoud falls over and the whistling begins – an endemic feature of supporter discontent across Spanish football. It is only broken when Ricardo, formerly with Manchester United and a goalkeeper who grew up around the corner from the Calderon before a making single appearance for Atletico, touches the ball for the first time to be greeted by mild applause.

 The commentators from Radio Marca explode into action like John McCririck on Derby day whenever Sergio Aguero comes within five yards of possession but he and Atletico’s other creative threat Simao struggle to involve themselves in play. Osasuna, with a 4-5-1 formation intended to stifle, do exactly that and look more likely to score. Walter Pandiani, the former Birmingham striker, is a danger and supplemented by ex Real Madrid winger Juanfran, he is foiled by David de Gea from close range. The locally born goalkeeper replaced big-money summer signing Sergio Asenjo at the turn of the year and has been a revelation under new boss Quique Sanchez Flores.

 Flores, dressed in an urbane suit, funneled trench coat and mahogany coloured loafers, cuts a relaxed figure on the touchline despite the visitors’ domination. Arms behind his back, with dark oily slicked back hair; the former Valencia and Benfica boss has made several other changes to the Atletico team since replacing Abel Resino. While Maxi Rodriguez has been allowed to move to Liverpool, Flores has given youth a chance with Alvaro Dominguez becoming a regular at centre back, 21-year-old winger Eduardo Salvio arriving from Lanus in Argentina, and telescopic-legged Senegalese striker Ibrahima being promoted from the B team.

 Here, Dominguez and his Colombian defensive partner Luis Perea are kept busy by Pandiani and co and the influence of Osasuna’s midfielder Javier Camunas becomes more apparent as the opening period wears old. When the half time whistle blows, there is no reaction from the supporters who seem to accept that a placing in the league that would qualify them for Europe is beyond Atletico this season.

 That hope is made more distant when Simao chops down Cesar Azpilicueta around the hour mark, earning a second yellow card. Simao’s ejection rouses the crowd and Atleti take control of the game with 10 men. Aguero is substituted and almost instantly, left back and captain Antonio Lopez finds himself in an advanced position to curl past Ricardo from 20 yards.

 Atletico are well in control now and surprisingly, Tomas Ujfalusi, the mean looking Czech defender playing at right back becomes a foil for all attacking movement. Ibrahima, christened, ‘Ibra’ on the back of his unnecessary number 58 shirt replaces a subdued Diego Forlan. Like Benjani, he sports a perma-smile and he nearly extends the hosts lead before tripping over his own feet in front of Ricardo.

 Osasuna now look like they’re contemplating a coach journey home that won’t get them back to Pamplona until 4am and Atleti – like Robinson said earlier, are reveling in their underdog status. When the full time whistle goes, they are clear and deserved winners.

 In the post match press conference, Osasuna coach Jose Antonio Camacho, the complete antithesis to Flores, looks like he can’t wait to get on the bus after seeing his side crumble when the game was seemingly theirs. Flores, meanwhile, could stay and talk all night in his casual, endearing manner.

 Exiting the stadium and heading towards the nearest tube stop at nearby Embajadores, a set of lumpen, grey tower blocks choke the skyline to the west of Madrid. Go in that direction and you’ll reach Aluche, the industrial suburb where Rafa Benitez grew up in.

 It is planned that Atletico will leave the Calderon for the stadium being built in the east of the city as part of Madrid’s failed bid for the 2016 Olympics. “Some fans have lobbied against this move,” says Alberto Romano, Atletico’s correspondent for Marca. “Atleti only moved to the Calderon in 1966. Before then, we played at the Metropilitano, which is close to the University across the city, so any historical significance of location should really be dismissed.

 “We’ll have a new stadium that will be slightly smaller than the Bernabeu.

 “The Calderon will be missed though.”