Los Coladeros, Episode 5: Bringing the Thunder
Two dominant victories in our last two outings surely makes us the form team in all the Spanish Second Division B groups, especially if you ignore facts from elsewhere that prove I’m wrong. Yes, it’s an amazing record — 7–0 and 6–0 in back-to-back games, and now we must go back to Catalonia for what feels like the hundredth time already this season to meet Sabadell FC.
All I know about Sabadell is that it’s a bank here in Spain — I didn’t realise it was also a place. But are they better at football or finance? Well, they’re 18th in the league, firmly in the red, and seem to be lacking balance. It seems like they’re not very good at either, which is a good sign for my unchanged lineup.
The first half is a tale of two goalkeepers. Edorta Ibarrondo is inspired for Sabadell, and slams the safe shut for almost 40 minutes in the face of intense pressure from Dunwell, Sestelo and Adolfo. At the other end, they manage several shots on goal that all beat Pinheiro, but luckily for us, two of them ping back off the post and another clips the bar and goes over — but on the half-hour mark, they manage to hit the target for the first and only time, and they take the lead. Alberto crosses from the Sabadell left flank, and striker Jordi Tarrés climbs above Pinheiro, which is embarrassing, and nods home the opener. Fortunately for him, Sergio Sestelo is irrepressible at the moment, and just before half time, he gets on the end of a Javi Cárcaba free kick to slide home the equaliser.
We come in 1–1 at the break, with Hugo on a 5. He’s a very frustrating player; either the hero or the villain, and rarely anything in between. However, what I do know about him is that a 5 at half time means it only gets worse from here, so I make a bold move and give Sidro his debut to replace the Portuguese and pray he does a better job.
He’s called into action immediately, and does well to parry a long-range drive from Jon Cuyami — and the second half is a very even affair. Victory, Dunwell and Lio all test Ibarronda, who’s annoyingly equal to whatever we throw his way, while Sidro excels himself to keep out Sala, Alberto and Tarrés before the final whistle comes. Neither team can dent the score further, and I’m eventually happy to escape with a draw after my goalkeeping substitution paid off. I’ll be looking at Hugo through narrowed eyes for the next seven days.
And they’re seven days that go by very quickly, as we prepare to welcome the natives of Alicante to Sevilla. It’s probably a relief for them to get away — there’s no other province in Spain that contains more British expats, and some towns have more English speakers than locals. It’s a bit like our dressing room, in fact. There will be no bienvenido for you here.
I decide to keep Pinheiro in goal for at least a couple more games, but a few more performances like last time out, and there’ll be a tall glass of cider taking his place — at least until our prophylactic protector arrives in December.
Disaster strikes in the first minute as Javi Cárcaba, my only real DMC, goes down with an injury. I decide to hope that Jamie Victory remembers how to play in there, since I recall him being able to in the long long ago, but is now marked down as just a D/DML — he takes up position, and Paul Underwood comes in at left wing-back.
Fortunately, my gambit pays off. Victory and Underwood both finish the half on 8s, and after Hugo repays my faith with two superb stops, Michael Dunwell goes on a solo mission to put us into a comfortable half-time lead. He chips the ball ahead of Sestelo inside the box, who’s tackled strongly but fairly, and as the ball bobbles loose, he collects it, takes a step forward, and slams a low shot past the moustachioed Miguel España in the Alicante nets, who’s definitely a British immigrant who hasn’t filled in his paperwork with a name like that, and it’s 1–0 to the good guys. Both sides then exchange several efforts off-target until the 25th minute, when a Tarkan Mustafa cross that’s aimed for Sestelo goes almost entirely awry, but Dunwell spots the flight of the ball and gets his head on it at the far post to put us 2–0 up, and that’s how we come in for half time.
I don’t change anything, but the scoreline is altered moments after the referee starts the second half. Sendoa gets down the flank and puts a ball into our box, and in his wisdom, Brian McGovern bundles striker Axier Garitano to the ground and concedes a penalty, which the forward picks himself up to convert past a helpless Hugo. The game opened up, both teams then start throwing jabs, with each side’s goalkeeper commanding their areas well to mop up most threats — until the 57th minute. Zevenbergen finds Adolfo, he breaks forward like he has so often this season, and cuts the ball back from the byline into the path of Sergio Sestelo, who meets it first time and drives past Mickey Spanish for 3–1, and surely the end of this game.
Not so. After actually setting my penalty takers upon watching McGovern almost give me a seizure the last time out, I’m delighted to see Lio Tarachalski get booted into the sky on 73 minutes — that didn’t sound right, but what I mean is he’s awarded the second penalty of the day, and as my newly designated kicker, picks himself up and tucks it away for 4–1 and his fifth goal of an excellent maiden campaign. Mickey Spanish then goes on to save from Lio, Tarkan and Sergio before the game ends, and there’s even time for an 89th minute consolation as Sendoa beats Richard Smith and crosses for substitute Roberto Morán to grab the sixth goal of the day. It’s been great entertainment for the Cartuja Ultras, who go home happy with another four goals from their heroes, but I’m not over the moon at conceding three times in two games. It was mainly McGovern who stuffed us today, it has to be said, and he’ll only be in there for a couple more months. Just keep scoring please, everyone else, and we’ll be fine.
Cárcaba is only out for ten days, which is a relief, but does mean he’ll definitely miss our next away trip. Instead, he’ll spend a week on what I call the physio’s table and what my medical team call a picnic bench outside the training ground — we’re £100k overdrawn, okay, you’ll just have to make do with what I can afford at the Thursday street market.
Said away trip is to 9th-placed U.D.A Gramenet, who are based in — and try to hold yourselves together for this — Catalonia, which means another 18-hour, 2,000km round trip for poor Chugger, who I don’t think expected this when he agreed to come over from Blighty. Honestly, the number of lower league teams that are based up in the north-east of Spain is ridiculous; we’d have less travelling to do if we played in Morocco.
Gramenet — spelled wrong on this version of CM01/02, poor form SI — are like everyone else in that they have one good player in each part of the pitch and then a load of plodders to make up the rest. There’s hardly any point in scouting opposing teams really; it’s not like I can come up with some sort of tactical masterplan to outfox them. It’s pretty much just the same 11 lads crowbarred into my one formation and hoping for the best, and to be fair, it’s not worked out so badly up to now. However, this game will be unique in that it will see the debut in DMC of Nicolas Saïu, a young man who feels like someone forgot to finish writing his name. He’s pretty agile and has good team work, which I suppose will have to do for today. I’m also tired of McGovern’s inexperience letting us down so instead plump for the older, wiser let-downs of JM Bastida at centre-half, and awaaaaay we go.
Raúl Caballero is one of Gramenet’s danger men, and he’s already taking banana shots from the left flank just a minute into the game — Tarkan is going to have to keep an eye on this gentleman, that’s for sure. Saïu introduces himself to the Ultras in the away end five minutes later as he clatters through left-back Kiku and gives away the first free kick of his career, which thankfully comes to nothing. Lio and Dunwell then combine to release Sestelo, who shoots over the bar, then the first goalkeeping action of the day comes from home stopper Antonio Morales, who saves from a Jamie Victory header after Ben Zevenbergen chucked a cross into the box from deep.
Gramenet absorb all our attacking intent, then knife us in the back. Xavi Jiménez escapes from my defence and drills a shot that Pinheiro saves, but can only palm into the path of the onrushing Roberto, who buries the rebound to give the home side a 10th minute lead with their first attack of the day. Our weak links, Saïu and Bastida, are both living down to expectations by providing the square root of zero protection for our Portuguese mammoth, and in fact are creating a nice, easy, direct path through our midfield and defence so that our hosts can pepper him with strikes. We’re wobbling for the next couple of minutes, but with my finger hovering over the Tactics button, we finally clear our lines and keep it away — Dunwell gathers a Saïu clearance and lays the ball off for Sestelo. He exchanges passes with Zevenbergen, then squares to Adolfo, who flicks the ball up for Zevenbergen to square across the box… Jamie Victory has made up most of the pitch to meet it on the volley! Morales is out of position!! JAMIE VICTORY! Hnngoooooooooooooooooooooooool Coladeroooooos! We might have gone behind, but not for long — it’s 1–1!
We gain confidence from the goal, and Sestelo makes Morales work hard to keep the scores level. We reach the half-hour mark having been entirely on top since equalising, as Morales gathers an Adolfo header and prepares to clear the ball downfield from his hands. He tosses the ball up, goes to kick it away, but slashes it straight to Sergio Sestelo on the edge of the box — he can hardly believe his luck! Sestelo advances on the prone goalkeeper, rounds him, and lays the ball across the goal line for the easiest tap-in Michael Dunwell will ever score! GOAL Dunwell! It’s 2–1 to the Rainmakers, Morales is on a 4, and we reach half time looking good and smelling fantastic.
I leave the players for the start of the second half but quickly tire of Bastida. I’m about to substitute him, but I’m distracted by my fab four combining once again: Dunwell to Sestelo, to Adolfo, then on for Lio. He turns on the left touchline and wallops a deep cross high across the area towards the back post… it goes over Dunwell, Sestelo and Adolfo… but Mustafa is lurking! Tarkan Mustafa!! GOAL COLADEROS! Mustafa’s first ever goal for Los Coladeros, and to celebrate, I hook Bastida for Antonio and tell him not to mess everything up.
Both goalkeepers then return to action for almost 30 minutes in feats of incredible agility, reflexes and handling. It’s a miracle the scores don’t change, and it seems only a matter of time before someone makes the breakthrough again — and on 80, it happens. Sestelo heads down for Tarachalski, who advances on the Gramenet back four and hits a swerving right-footed drive that Morales saves and deflects clear, but not clear enough. Would you effing believe it, Nicolas Saïu — miles out of position, it has to be said — saunters to the edge of the box and greets the bouncing ball with a ferocious volley that lashes past Morales and home for 4–1, and that’s game, set and match.
The last goal knocked the stuffing out of our hosts, and they can’t muster anything resembling an effort on goal from that point on, whereas we’re unlucky not to extend our lead further, as each of our front four manage efforts on target. In the end, the referee puts Gramenet out of their misery, and another successful trip to Catalonia is in the books. Thank goodness for that.
Everyone is shattered after that — the players for their efforts, me for my wild gesticulating on the touchline, the Ultras just from watching it, and Chugger from the 995km drive here. His day is far from over, and as we climb aboard and the moon rises over our heads, some drops of rain finally start to fall. It’s cool and refreshing on my skin. I can’t remember the last time I saw rain, and unlike when it happens in the UK every couple of days, after weeks of solid 100+ degree days, it’s strangely pleasant.
Ah, yes… it’s 11pm and we took all of Chugger’s windows out, didn’t we. Susan? Are there any hostels around here?
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