One city two clubs: Sevilla FC and Real Betis Balompié

Words: Pete Hitchman

Images: Pete Hitchman

They might only be four kilometres apart, but there’s a lot that separates Sevilla FC and Real Betis Balompié.

Sevilla is historically the club of the elite, founded mainly by British employees of the local firms whose directors were from the ruling upper classes. Real Betis is considered the people’s club, established by students and the team of the working class, if you trace it back to its roots.

Of course, to blur lines, you’ll find dirt poor supporters of both sides but it’s hard to shake the historical connotations.

Sevilla’s Ramón Sánchez Pizjuán Stadium, sits in the wealthy Nervión neighbourhood, flanked by bars and high end retail. It’s an old structure but with so many facelifts, it feels like new. Trigger’s broom, to those that get the reference.

The most obvious upgrade is a steel cladding around most of the exterior. Bright red lights shine down from between the steel sheets and turn the entire stadium perimeter into a glaring red hue before and after the match.

©Pete Hitchman/ Terrace Edition. Sevilla FC.

Then head across this stupendously beautiful city and you’ll find the brutalist Benito Villamarín Stadium, which offers a stark (but no less striking) contrast.

Exposed concrete sprawls up from the pavement, high into the Seville sky. That much concrete will always split opinion, but as a man who grew up a few miles from Spaghetti Junction I can’t get enough of it.

But despite their differences, there are similarities too. After all, these are two games in one fiercely proud and passionate city – a city that loves its football.

Whether red or green, I saw Andalusia’s football fans ingrained in the unmistakable culture of Spanish football across two matches on consecutive nights in January.

It’s the rousing club anthem, played loud before the teams came out.

©Pete Hitchman/ Terrace Edition. Real Betis Balompié.

The shimmer of tin foil around the stadium at half time as fans unwrap their bocadillo (a baguette-style sandwich).

The scarf swirling after every goal.

The pipas. Oh the pipas. Thousands and thousands of sunflower seed shells left under the seats because everyone around you is working their way through what seems like a never-ending bag.

And the heartwarming multi-generational dynamic that is so indicative of Spanish society in general. Everywhere I looked, I saw grandads sharing the passion (and sometimes their old scarf) with their grandchildren, beaming with pride.

I’ll go to my grave telling people that there’s no better way to experience the culture of a country (or indeed a city) than watching a match, or two. This was yet another reminder.

Pete is on X and Instagram: @_pete_hitchman_

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