I suppose the Mestalla had been on my ‘visit’ list for a while. Partly because it’s generally considered to be one of the iconic Spanish stadiums, but mainly because Valencia have been building a new ground for what seems like donkey’s years. Construction seems to start and then stall again for a while and so I’ve been given additional time that nobody would have anticipated when the New Mestalla plans were announced.
Jen and I spent the morning and early afternoon mooching around the city centre. There were old churches, squares with cafes and an indoor market with pig heads, live lobsters and skinned rabbits. We bought a bag of padron peppers that hopefully we’ll be able to roast to resemble the way you get them served as tapas.
As game time approached, we made our way to the ground. It was busy outside with fans of both sides milling around. The scarf stalls were doing brisk business, as were the bars. If I lived in Valencia, I’d be happy to go along regularly and follow the team. We’ve got Mendieta in common and I watched them win the Copa del Rey back in 2008. That’s enough for a connection.
I’d bought tickets online a couple of weeks earlier at twenty-five euros a pop for seats high in the North Stand behind the goal. It was a very easy process and all I had to do was make sure I could find the Downloads folder on my phone to retrieve them at the turnstile.
It was an epic climb to our seats with about a dozen flights of stairs and then once outside, three risers to each row of seats. The steepness meant that every row had a barrier in front of it to prevent people tumbling downwards after getting over-excited.
Valencia’s opponents were Celta de Vigo, a team that I‘d watched a lot of back in the days when I worked in Galicia. Inevitably, Iago Aspas was still turning out for them, seventeen years after I’d watched him play for their ‘B’ team. Of greater interest to the home fans was the Celta manager, Rafa Benitez, who received a warm round of applause and a chorus of his song in appreciation of his Valencia exploits twenty years ago.
It wasn’t a classic with neither side have the guile, pace or luck needed to break the other down and chances were at a premium. It finished goalless, which no doubt suited relegation candidates Celta better. At the final whistle Rafa hugged everyone in sight and took the applause of the forty or so travelling fans to our left. I made sure to hold the handrail on the way down.
Trail of the Lion King 