"There are some things in football that are inexplicable, and one of those things is that we're finalists," says Rayo Vallecano captain Oscar Valentin before they take on Crystal Palace in the Conference League final. "We've got a stadium from the 70s, it's outdated, other teams arrive and they're amazed at where they are. That's why it deserves a lot of credit, and it's a little bit the essence of a neighbourhood."
It is no easy job to explain just how this happened, much less why. It was a miracle that Rayo made it into European football at all, making the final is a fairytale of the magnitude that couldn't fit into Vallecas, the biggest neighbourhood in Europe, tightly packing in a million people, and one of the least wealthy. If you're sweating for basic needs every day, a Michelin-star meal and a Versace suit aren't the first things you dream of. A European final was not conceivable.
In February, Rayo had to borrow a pitch from Leganes , theirs was not in working condition. When it was deemed playable, players, coaches and opposition openly spoke about it as a safety hazard. What's around the grass isn't much better. Lech Poznan visited in February, finding there were no towels. Visiting fans scramble around for a napkin to wipe clean the remnants of surely the largest nesting colony of pigeons in any top-flight stadium. Earlier this year the lights went out. Someone took out the wrong plug and short-circuited the entire ground. Half an hour on the same metro line takes you to the Santiago Bernabeu, where a 360-degree hanging television is suspended at eye-level for the fans in the fourth-tier – Vallecas has only three stands.
Somehow, none of this seems to faze the Rayo players. "Since the days of Andoni ( Iraola ). He made us believe that they are just eleven players like us, and that on the pitch, the budget, the millions, don't matter," reasons former captain and ten-year veteran Oscar Trejo . "What is decisive is football." Yet if there is one thing that has stood out about the engrossing current manager Inigo Perez as the season has gone on, it is the increasing tendency to talk about people just as much as football. The message he reinforces week in, week out, the one he spends time on, is the character of player he wants, the collective attitude. "He has this power of attraction," says Trejo warmly.
"Given the connotations associated with Vallecas, the sense of attachment and synchronisation is incredibly powerful. This acceptance of suffering is what makes it unique," says Perez. "Above all, because of the profile of footballer we have here," points out Valentin. "The players, we're humble people, Isi [Palazon], Alvaro [Garcia], myself, we come from humble clubs, from lower divisions, we adapt to anything, so when we face adversity, when we see that we don't have the resources of other clubs, our strength is being united, we can take it with humour." The trio mentioned all helped Rayo make it to La Liga five years ago, and of their 26-man squad, 20 have played in Segunda, and 14 have experience of Spain's third tier. "You enter the dressing room, and there are historic figures for Rayo there like Trejo, Alvaro Garcia , Isi, you see all the problems are converted into humour" confirms Sergio Camello , an adopted son of Vallecas, after coming through at Atletico Madrid . "You understand that you can't complain. You understand that you have to work, and that if you allow it, it will deplete you and it will consume you."
Part of the reason Vallecas is home to so many is because it was at one time where those who couldn't afford to live in Madrid but came in search of work, initially from the South of Spain, now from South America. The hills that overlook the stadium are man-made, built on the remains of a shanty town that was bulldozed to erect high-rise flats. At the Estadio de Vallecas, a Working Class flag waves in the ultras stand every game, and in front of them, it feels like they have a team that represents their struggle. Perhaps more importantly, the players identify with them.
"I like the philosophy of the neighbourhood," explains 31-year-old Gerard Gumbau , whose career has seen him traverse across Spain after graduating from Barcelona 's La Masia academy. "That humility, integrating into it, the difficulty a lot of people have, and so many people come to see us. It's contagious on the pitch, we show it with the personality we play with in every game." Camello and Trejo both acknowledge that their own difficulties with Rayo's facilities and resources have played their part in uniting the group, although Camello is reluctanct to normalise or romanticise it – " We're fighting for basic rights, not privileges, basic rights , for the ones that come after us." Infamously, Rayo's women's team have been treated by opposition medical staff on the pitch; they didn't have their own.
The sense of unity, both internally and externally, goes beyond punctual gestures and school visits escorted by photographers though. It is not uncommon to see players with their families in the bars around the stadium after games. "You know the people and share a bond of friendship. You're already coming out way ahead," comments Trejo on the dressing room. "That is the most important thing, and it's what enables this group to keep achieving such wonderful things." After his final home game before he leaves this summer, Romanian Andrei Ratiu and Catalan Dani Cardenas bought a round of beers for the whole bar as they got the kebabs in for their teammates. Both donated to crowdfunding campaigns to get scammed fans to Leipzig for the game. Perhaps with this Rayo, that distinction isn't necessary.
Beyond the structural difficulties, and the gross inequality, what makes this side different is that they've closed the chasm between footballers and fans that is visible at every top-level game these days. Not least because there's no private parking. To get home, Rayo players step straight out of the dressing room onto the street with the fans. "Rayo Vallecano is the last of the football before," beams Camello. "When I invite people to go Vallecas, I always say the least important thing is the football. Everything you breathe, the pre-match gathering, the union, the people." Crystal Palace fans are invited , by Trejo no less. "I'd invite all of the people in England to come to Vallecas for the weekend, they won't want to go back, because of the feeling, the adrenaline, the passion of the neighbourhood, it's unique."
Leading them out in the Conference League final will be Valentin, who was in the Rayo academy, the one without hot showers, and signed for the first team in 2019 after time in the third tier with Rayo Majadahonda. "I was a season-ticket holder, I used to go to the pre-match." Rather than becoming unnerved by that proximity, the potential for one false step from one of those 26 players, Perez has nurtured, made it part of their game. Why don't more managers and clubs take advantage of such a bond?
"It's unique to Rayo, for the type of fans that are Rayo. It's a fanbase, that when things are going badly, unite the dressing room even more, they're always with the team. I don't remember a single occasion where the team was whistled," says Valentin. If there is a magic to this Rayo, if there's an explanation for their superpowers and this incredible run, it's in the barrio . The football team have become their neighbourhood. Valentin should know, he's part of both. The final word, with his special power of engaging with people, of finding a story for every occasion, goes to Perez.
"Rayo are the perfect example that, in both life and sport, those who lose, who face struggles and endure suffering, can also eventually taste the sweetness of success. We carry this with pride. The fan is, in a way, what we should imitate on the pitch; we feed off one another. It is the perfect example of someone who knows their roots, which tends to involve losing, yet refuses to give up on anything. Sometimes, incredible stories unfold, and Rayo's is a beautiful one, one that deserves to be told. Let's hope it has a happy ending."
