Los Coladeros, Episode 49: Betis

12 min readJan 20, 2020

So then. Here we are. Easily the most important derby of the season is upon us, and wave upon wave of green and white greets us at every corner as Chugger plods along the mousey streets on the short drive from La Cartuja to the Manuel Ruiz de Lopera. The Betis fans know as well as the Ultras how important this game is going to be: a win for either side puts them squarely in the title race, and well within the Champions League picture for next season. Defeat will leave the loser adrift of rampant Barcelona by probably too many points to make up between now and the end of May, while also leaving them in fourth place with a snarling, resurgent Real Madrid right up their arses. A draw will leave both teams literally and figuratively pointless, as the two dropped by each side will grant Barcelona the breathing space they need to close out the championship and mean that the top four will be too close to call until the final days of the campaign. I have to tell you, I’m not looking forward to this in the slightest.

I’d go as far as to say that I hate the sight of Betis. They’re one of those teams who do remarkably well despite having a bang average squad on paper. They’ve got two actual players in their side, Joaquín and Albert Luque, who are world class without doubt — plus I suppose Juan Carlos Valerón is decent, but the rest? I don’t see it. They’ve got good names that are underperforming — namely Assunção and Denilson — but some incredibly mediocre ones that are having blinding seasons. Goalkeeper Ronald Gaspercic has 5 for Agility and 11 for Handling. Is he terrible, you ask? No, he somehow has one of the best clean sheet records in the league. Centre-half Eduardo Berizzo is a 34 year old Argentinian who’s no better than my worst centre-half, according to my scouts — but is still posting a 7.46 average rating and showing no signs of slowing down. How is he so good? I can accept being beaten by the likes of Barcelona and Real Madrid and all the star power they bring to the table. But these plodders? I’m not having it. They’re just dogged, persistent bastards that won’t go away, like a mosquito in a Tenerife hotel room (I’m still traumatised from last year’s holiday), and I can’t stand them. Even at their place, we should be good enough to take all three points.

I’m making a couple of changes from our last outing. Samba works super hard but, based on our last game, Batistuta is a bit more lethal — and it’s that kind of deadliness that we’ll need today. Cherno is young and needs four chances to score once, but not Batigol. If his knackered knees can drag him into the penalty area, he only needs one good swing to hit the back of the net. Elsewhere, Recoba returns to midfield with Lundén in place of Baião and the injured Ronaldo — how we could have done with him today. My back four remain in place, but there’s a change in goal: Pinheiro is too lightweight to play in a game like this, and with Costanzo taken out by the Foreign player rule, Antonis Voulgaris returns to the eleven with a lot to prove. I’m a ball of nerves in the away dugout as my team take the field. Fortunately, the roaring Ultras in the stands calm my nerves just enough to allow me to hold my martini without spilling it. Whatever would I do without them.

Two minutes later, my grip on the glass is voluntarily released into the ground with great force. Tsikitsiris takes out Joaquín as he makes an immediate move towards our goal, Assunção whips the free-kick into the box, and the legendary Betis skipper catches a perfect volley that explodes past Voulgaris to give these f — king green bastards the lead after just two minutes. God I hate them. I hate them so much.

Tsigalko and Lundén both put chances off-target in the minutes that follow, and just as it looks like we’re stamping a foothold down in this game, the two dangermen take centre stage. Batty destroys Joaquín with a tackle that trickles the ball out to Berizzo, he finds Luque wide on the right, and his cross is met by the head of the Betis captain again, Voulgaris makes a spectacular flying save, but Juan Carlos Valerón gets to the loose ball first and clips it into the empty goal for 2–0 to our most unwelcoming hosts, and in a blur of green and white, our title hopes are disappearing down the plughole.

I’m watching through my fingers as we kick off again, my players looking far less despairing than me — and they react brilliantly to the setback. Recoba and Tsigalko combine on the left, Joaquín slides in to dispossess the Belarusian, but David Batty gathers the loose ball and hits what is becoming a trademark thunderbolt from the edge of the area that Gaspercic has to tip wide! Victory’s corner is headed away but results in a free kick being awarded on the right flank. Mike Duff spots the run of Tsigalko and quickly puts the ball down and whips it into the box — the Betis defenders weren’t expecting it! Tsigalko rises… and heads past Gaspercic! Tsigalko drags us back into the game! It’s 2–1!

All I can say is, thank christ we scored the next goal, and before half time too. All I could see through my horrible nightmare vision was Betis adding a third, and me having to skulk home bottle in hand after the game is over — but now, where hope had faded, colour has returned. And those colours are silver and blue.

Lundén crosses for Tsigalko, whose diving header clips the post and goes wide. Assunção is booked for risking his life with a foul on Batty, and Victory’s free-kick is headed just over by Tsikitsiris. Tsigalko then heads down for Arteta to smash a shot goalwards that Gaspercic parries and Rivas clears, but Tsikitsiris knocks the long ball down to Teddy Lucic on the halfway line to regain possession. Lucic takes a touch out of his feet, launches a long ball over the home defence… Tsigalko is onto it in a flash! He’s clean through on Gaspercic! Tsigalkoooo…

GOL GOL GOL GOL GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL TSIGALKO! GOL COLADEROS! COMETH THE HOUR, COMETH THE ICEMAN! Maxim Tsigalko smashes home the equaliser, and from 2–0 down, it’s 2–2 at half time!!

Dear, dear. What a half of football that was. We were all over Betis for the majority of it, and although Voulgaris safely fields a Denilson free-kick just before the break, there’s no doubt that we ought to be at least level at this stage — probably more, in truth. However, on the plus side, that horrendous opening has been cancelled out by Tsigalko, and now we have 45 more minutes to lance Betis once and for all. I make a half-time change, as Batistuta has barely had a sniff of the ball so far — he’s well off the pace now, and I’ll learn from this that he’s no more than an impact sub from now on. The menacing presence of Cherno Samba takes his place: young, two-footed, strong and hungry because we don’t feed him, he’s tasked with taking Juanito and Berizzo — the two Betis CBs, both on 9s so far — to the cleaners. Let’s have it.

Denilson is hooked for the hosts and replaced by Diego Quintana, and after an uneventful first ten minutes, I’m delighted to see JC Valerón leave the pitch as well. Two influential playmakers gone with the game hanging in the balance seems like a mistake from Luis Fernandez, but you won’t hear me complaining — even though Tsikitsiris is starting to concern me with the number of free kicks he’s giving away around the penalty box. Voulgaris is, thankfully, there to clean up most of his mistakes, and just after the hour mark, he fields another dead ball and bowls it out to Duffman, who makes tracks down the right hand side. He gets past Quintana and swings over a cross, Samba rises like a mighty tidal wave and heads the ball goalwards — Gaspercic saves yet again — but RECOBA FOLLOWS IN! RECOBAAAAAAA!!!

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL COLADEROS!! IT’S THERE! ÁLVARO RECOBA MAKES IT 3–2! WHAT A TURNAROUND!

We’re doing well here. So bloody well. We finally lead, and take the next five minutes to continually thwart Betis as they approach our goal — even goalscorer Recoba gets back to make a tackle on Assunção. It all gets a bit too close for comfort in the 75th minute though, as Albert Luque gets his first proper chance of the game and wellies a shot off the outside of the post — so I decide to make a change. Mikel Arteta isn’t helping a great deal in CM, so I replace him with Nikolaos Tobros who drops to Sweeper in a back five for the last ten minutes. I also change to Defensive and Long Ball so we can really shut this shit down. I’ve had quite enough excitement for one day, thank you very much.

I am, however, going to need to watch those ten minutes through my fingers as Fernandez imbues his players with the virility of a thousand Frenchmen and they swarm forward into our third on a far too regular basis. Voulgaris saves from Amorós and Joaquín as the game ticks towards full time, and in the 89th minute, Recoba heads a glorious chance over the bar to make the game safe, but even still, the referee’s whistle is surely now just moments away. Gaspercic launches it long, Joaquín takes it down and strikes on the bounce! Voulgaris pushes it away!! What a save, so late in the game! 92 minutes are on the clock. Quintana aims the corner at the near post, Duffman beats Assunção in the air, but can only head behind for another corner. 93 minutes. Quintana puts another corner in, Amorós wins the header, but Victory blocks and smashes it clear — surely that’s game over. 94 minutes. Joaquín collects the clearance and hoofs it back into the mixer. João Pinto heads wide to Quintana, who whips the ball into the box first time, it should be Voulgaris’ ball… but Assunção beats him to it. Assunção’s header… is in. It’s fucking in. It’s 3–3, and now the referee blows for full time. You absolute… bastards. YOU BASTARDS. I HATE YOU SO MUCH.

I’m spent after that. Completely spent. I need to go for an actual, real-life lie down.

- Later -

Right, well, that 94th minute equaliser has completely stuffed us hasn’t it, and now, all we can do is try to keep winning. We’ve got ten games to play, and thanks to those snot-coloured bastards, we’re now five points behind Barcelona with no games in hand and a worse goal difference than them by three. All we can do is win all ten of our remaining fixtures, and hope the Catalans slip up. First on the hit list: Málaga at La Cartuja. I change my team a little. I do not fear them. Let’s do this.

I was right not to fear them, especially as they have lone striker Edgar sent off in the 9th minute for deliberate handball in the box, Recoba converts the spot-kick, and Málaga boss Juan Señor decides to stick with a 4–5–0 formation for the remainder of the game. With no striker, it’s not a surprise that the visitors have virtually no chances on goal except for speculative long-range shots that Costanzo deals with easily. We, on the other hand, are all over them, and I’m frustrated to say it takes until the 75th minute for us to add a second through Cherno Samba, and that’s how it eventually finishes.

Tobros and Andrielos, restored to the team today, finish the first half on yet more 5s and I almost replace them both in a fit of rage, but leave them on for a little while. Tobros manages to scrape himself up to a 7 by the end of the game, whereas Andrielos doesn’t make it that far after being hooked in the 71st minute after sticking with his awful match rating despite having literally nothing to do. How can you get so much wrong when you haven’t even got any strikers to deal with? Incredible, really. I’m pleased to give Sergio Sestelo a second-half cameo and he impresses me, as always, by getting an assist and making almost as many key passes as the rest of the team combined, but no matter — a win is a win. And, more importantly, Barcelona only win 1–0, meaning their goal difference advantage is cut to just two.

Next up are the absolute wankers of Valladolid, our eternal nemeses. I’m forced into a couple of changes since Roger Molhoek is injured and can’t make the bench, and Álvaro Recoba has been taken by Uruguay for international duty — and with my faith in Tonton Zola Moukoko at an all-time low, fan favourite Sergio Sestelo is restored to the starting team for the first time in I don’t know how long. Too long.

Valladolid, though I hate to give them any credit for anything ever, are quite remarkably still 7th in the table despite dropping away from that stunning opening run, and I’m sure would love to steal an undeserved win against us today just to twist the knife.

They don’t, and in fact, we run roughshod over them. Cherno Samba starts the party in the 8th minute with an absolute wonder goal: a Maradona-style run from the halfway line that takes him past half the Valladolid team on his way to smashing a thunderbolt past Bizzarri for 1–0, and then we pepper the home keeper with strikes from mainly Samba and Tsigalko for the next hour until the Iceman finally doubles our lead with a low shot from, you guessed it, Sergio Sestelo’s pass. David Batty also gets himself a double but unfortunately it’s yellow cards rather than goals, and he sees red on 73 for scything through Vivar Dorado — but it barely registers. The outcome of this game was decided after eight minutes. My players know what’s at stake here, and they’re performing accordingly. It’s another win for the Wet Bandits.

Barcelona didn’t play today, so that win brings us to within two points of the defending league champions with an extra game played. Gosh, we’re so close we can almost reach out and touch them… perhaps we aren’t so different after all.

The following day, they close an £11.25m summer deal for Jaap Stam from Lazio. Forget that thing I just said. I have noticed that Marcel Desailly has appeared on my Interested list, and while he’s no Jaap Stam, he might be worth a good, hard look. Also considering our next game is against 3rd-placed Real Sociedad at La Cartuja and I really don’t want to think about it, the distraction is more than welcome. Man, the run-in to this season is going to be TIGHT.