Derby day in Alicante

There's something which forms a massive part of my life in Spain that, in getting on for two years of writing this blog, has barely had a mention. Until today that is, because it's now time for a spot of football and what better to write about than a bad tempered Alicante derby? Fair enough, Hercules versus Elche is hardly Celtic and Ranger or Liverpool against Man United, but as local rivalries go, these two sets of fans hate each other with a passion. Last season, 2010/11, Hercules embarked on an ill-starred single campaign in the Spanish top division, which, to the delight of their near neighbours and sworn enemies from just down the road ended with relegation back to the Segunda A at the first attempt. 

The Estadio Jose Rico Perez

Real Madrid and Barcelona, wherever the game takes place, dominate the football pages for a good week ahead of the clásico, a really good effort given the quantity of daily sports newspapers in Spain. For Elche and Herc, the big build up started on about the Thursday with the usual platitudes in the local press from both Chairmen about respect and their wish for the supporters to enjoy the day win, lose or draw. Fat chance. A few more days of that old tripe to exercise both factions then and Sunday November the 27th soon came around. Thankfully, for all concerned the weather was nice too because, with barely any cover at all, the Jose Rico Perez stadium in Alicante, really isn't a great place to be when it's peeing down. On that particular morning it wasn't that great a place to be for about seventeen thousand Alicantino's either, but I'll come to that presently.

Taking the dog for a walk on a Sunday morning

Back in the day, the heyday of top class British football hooliganism that is, British Rail used to lay on "football specials"  to move fans to and from away games, usually in knackered or obsolete rolling stock so it didn't matter how hard the fans tried to destroy them. Twice a season, when the two biggest teams in Alicante province are in the same division, BR's Spanish counterparts could do with something similar, this being Spain though, that kind of forethought is sadly lacking. The upshot of this absence meant some of the hardest and nastiest Elche fans, a good couple of hundred of them, piled onto the 30 minute scheduled service to Alicante's city centre railway station. From here, the Burberry clad hoolies and qite a few of their lady folk by the looks, were marched the twenty minutes across town to the ground by a huge contingent of Alicante law enforcement personnel and one or two of their faithful friends.

The Elche CF Twelfth man

First into their section of the ground, they were followed soon after by the occupants of the twenty or thirty coaches that had travelled in convoy along the A-7 motorway, most of whom I'd recently passed on my own journey to Alicante. One by one, the coaches disgorged their travelling Ilicitano's right outside the door and stewards hurriedly herded them inside; beyond the police cordon, blue and white clad locals yelled various obscenities to which the visitors returned verbal fire with unpleasantries of their own. Everyone safely ensconced, the singing began and carried on, and on, and on until the very end. The visiting Elche fans were absolutely magnificent the whole game long, and, from my privileged position close to the touchline in their corner, I could see first hand their increasing delight as the match progressed.

Nicki Bille feeling pleased with himself

Seventeen minutes in, Elche got their party properly started when full-back Edu Albacar slapped the ball beyond Falcon in the Hercules goal from the penalty spot. Seconds later he disappeared beneath a sizeable pile of grateful colleagues mid-way through sharing his moment of glory with the gleeful green and white hordes going berserk in the stand. Before they all had time to get their breath back barely a quarter of an hour later, the Spanish version of  "you're supposed to be at home" rang around the ground as Elche scored again. In this kind of tense game with local pride at stake, the goals don't need to be things of outstanding natural beauty, you just need to rack up more of them than the opposition. This was the task that befell Danish striker Nicki Bille and it's safe to say his effort wouldn't be making the November goal of the month shortlist. In point of fact, the hit-man seemed somewhat surprised his poked effort, prodded in at full stretch by the near post, wasn't ruled offside. That much was clear from the delayed reaction as he began his celebration. 

Just out of shot Tiago Gomes was checking he still had two legs

Somehow, Hercules have risen to the top of the Segunda A classification and it's difficult to believe they'd have managed the feat playing as poorly as they had thus far in this match. With less than twenty minutes left, they eventually managed to locate the scoresheet to set up something of a tense finale with the best goal of the match. A headed Elche defensive clearance got as far as the edge of the box, where, the waiting Michel absolutely creamed a volley past everyone to halve the deficit.The Hercules efforts to get back on terms were handed another boost before the end after a spiteful studs up job with both feet on Tiago Gomes by Beranger, who, once all the handbags had died down right in front of the home bench, was given a straight red. Had he done that on the street, the Elche midfielder would surely have been charged with something.

The Elche players lap up yet more applause

At about five minutes to two referee David Miranda Torres, (honestly that's his real name), blew for time to end the first Alicante derby of the season. 1-2 was the result, and, amid incredible scenes at the final whistle, the Elche players went to salute their adoring public. In the thick of all this jubilation I was soon joined by the rest of the press photographers, who, by now had made their way across the pitch from the other end of the ground to capture the celebrations on film for their various publications. The thing is, what goes for medical types treating injured players during the game also goes for the media apparently, you're supposed to walk round the perimeter and not take short cuts across the grass. Two stroppy emails from Hercules CF the following day complained about "pitch invasions by the photographic media" and threatened to withdraw accreditations. Honestly, talk about sore losers!!  No such drama though for the amazing Elche fans, an hour after everyone else they were let out to board their buses home and bask in the warm glow of a good derby win. To the best of my knowledge, not one of them got stabbed in the buttocks either.