When I heard the news that a Saturday league side from Halifax were planning a pre-season jaunt to the Spanish capital, I was sold in an instant. For the luxuries that Madrid poses to a young lad displaced from a grey, wet and unchanging town in West Yorkshire; there is a certain romance found in watching 11-aside matches at a local level. A weekly event where the likes of factory workers, teachers, salesmen and prison officers come together to enjoy the beautiful game.
Having survived the July heat in Madrid, it was apparent to that the conditions may not be favourable for a side used to competing on near-waterlogged pitches. Nonetheless the proposition of AFC Volunteers traveling to Spain to face FC Británico de Madrid carried only one overriding emotion for the side based in Calderdale, North West England: excitement. The prospect of sunning it up, having a kick about and far too many cervezas was a welcome change of scenery.
Their opposition, a side established in 1972, was founded by expats in the city and boasted a side full of British and Irish folk who played on a weekly basis. Within the Británicos side there was one Haligonian who had played with the current ‘AFC Vol’ hierarchy and, after a short discussion between the former teammates a few months prior, made the decision to come together for a match like no other.
Two teams from different countries, though not necessarily cultures, had a date for the encounter. The friendly was agreed to place on Saturday, August 20 at Polideportivo Las Cocheras - In this, the Semi Centennial year of the hosts, they would be welcoming a side founded 49 years after theirs. AFC Vol was established in the Huddersfield league little over a year ago, a phoenix rising from the ashes of another local side (the less said the better, as I was warned)... Despite being in their early stages, AFC Vol had gained instant promotion from the 4th tier in the 2021/22 season and were ready to go again for their second season.
The pitch is found a stone's throw from Ventas, the part of the city infamously known for its bull-ring. Here the 24 strong Vol team - albeit including a number of players out injured, management and media workers - arrived still heady from the shenanigans and celebrations of their first night of their tour. Hearing the hungover pre-match discussion in a familiar Yorkshire accent was a sight to behold, whilst also being a welcome reminder of home.
Together before kick-off, Vol stood watching two local teams playing the final knockings as they waited to enter the fenced off pitch. In the high-intensity match, a soft challenge was given as a foul by the referee, which caused bemusement amongst the Vol as well as a stir of “bloody hell” and “these lot would struggle back home.” Tongue-in-cheek the comments but with a basis of truth coming from those tired, croaky voices.
It was hard not to laugh when hearing certain stories from members of the XI which occurred only a few hours prior to the 10am meet at the ground. Of course, they shall not be divulged here on Remontada. Yet, to give you the picture - it was very impressive to see some of them standing after the nights they had endured, let alone having to play a full 90 minutes in 35 degree heat. You have to give credit where it’s due.
Soon the time came to enter the caged-astroturf and get ready for the match. For those starting, the usual drills took precedent. For those injured players or members of the managerial entourage of the Vol family, it was time to decorate the the sidelines with tailor made flags that adorned the pitch with messages such as:
“We’re just a pub team, we know what we are.”
“No Poskitt. No Party.” An ode to former player Joel Poskitt.
“Viva La Vol.”
One thing was clear to me as I stood on the touchline. That this club was created by and for people who cared about grassroots football. A key part to the lives of each and every one of those who had made the journey to Madrid. Memories were already guaranteed, but now it was time to do their talking on the pitch.
Proceedings started in an expectedly leggy way for the Vol party-goers, but they soon composed themselves and worked the ball around well. Finding gaps in the water-tight Británicos midfield. Hydration breaks were an essential and the away side nearly made it to half-time unscathed, but a collision between player and dugout bench meant that the action had to be halted as one Vol player (Luke Simmonds) departed for the hospital to get his leg stitched up. One reaction to the horrific injury that sticks has to be “Mate, you don’t want to see something like that even if you’re not hungover. That was grim, that.”
Soon after the break the opposition manager spoke in Spanish to one of his attacking players, in a phrase which loosely translated to: “You’re a fucking great player, but when you think too much you go to shit, just get up there and shoot.” He then looked back, caught my rye smile and said “you just understood what I said didn’t you? Ah shit!” An interchange that couldn’t be replicated in the professional levels, surely…
Late into the second half, Vol’s Miller brothers finally gave the crowd something to shout about as they connected in front of goal, with young Harvey taking his chance well from the edge of the box. His finish, low into the bottom left of the Británicos net was watched on by their dad on the sides and greeted with a pitch invasion. Sheer ecstasy for the boys from ‘fax. It was brilliant to see such jubilation from a brotherhood founded in my hometown, playing here in the suburbs of my current home.
Now, looking at the scoreline. The eyes, head and brain all would’ve all agreed that the Vol fell to a 4-1 defeat. However, the heart would claim undeniably that it was a 0-1 win on their maiden voyage in European football. Remontada is inclined to go with the heart on this one, regardless of post-production discussions.
Swiftly moving on. The match ended in handshakes and a joint photo of the two sides following an afternoon spent enjoying football played in the right way, with a smile on the face. Don't get it twisted, however. Both clubs did gave their all to ensure that a victory was achieved. To see the comradery first-hand was something I had not seen since playing and watching weekend football up aloft on the countryside hills of Halifax.
Once the post-match niceties were concluded, it was straight to a local bar for jarras de cerveza, reminiscing about the match which had just taken place and exchanging stories from home. For a minute, ignoring the heat, I could have been back in West Yorkshire having a catch-up in a local boozer with lifelong friends. If that isn’t the main take-away from the importance of grassroots football, then what is.
Viva La Vol.
Enjoy some images of the lads' retro shirt Sunday, pictured in and around Plaza Mayor.
Extra content: Some of the chants created by the Volunteers Arms simply had to be documented.
Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (a Carlos DaSilva) - to the tune of Abba’s classic:
Gimme, gimme, gimme a Carlos DaSilva!
He plays in centre-mid and he’s full of tattoos
Gimme, gimme, gimme a Carlos DaSilva!
He comes from Portugal and he plays for the Vol
No Poskitt. No party. - to the tune of Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes
No Poskitt. No party.
No Poskitt. No party.
No Poskitt. No party.
(Repeat)
Miller Miller Miller - to the tune of Yaya/Kolo Touré in recognition to two generations of the Miller family.
Marky Marky Marky Marky Marky Marky Marky Miller!
Harvey Harvey Harvey Harvey Harvey Harvey Harvey Miller!
Joshy Joshy Joshy Joshy Joshy Joshy Joshy Miller!
(Repeat)
Al Johnstone had a dream… - An ode to one of the founders and managers of the club. To the tune of "I want to go home..."
Al Johnstone had a dream
To build a football team
- UNSURE OF LINE -
We build from the back
With Paul in attack!
We are the Volunteers
And we’ll never look back