Worst. Stadium. Ever.

Or possibly the best? Compared to the identikit cloned bowls at Leicester, Southampton, Darlington et al, is this so terrible? Well, yes. Still, though - full marks for imagination. The Mmabatho Stadium in South Africa, holding 55,000 and built in 1981 ...

I'm just confused.

Uh-huh.



It took a while to work out how you even get into those great big platforms.

The One With The Rain in Spain

Having lived abroad for four of the last five years, I’ve accepted that there are some undying, unshakeable perceptions of the English. Or the British – I’m often told that England, Scotland et al don’t actually exist, which is rich coming from the Spanish.

Amongst these convictions, I’m assured that my countryspeople drink borderline-dangerous quantities of tea (which we do) and that we love wearing socks and sandals (which we don’t). Most regularly, though, I’m reminded of how wet, grim and generally miserable our weather is. Whenever it has the temerity to rain here (which, actually is quite a lot), I’m treated to “!jaja! It’s just like England isn’t it? Just like an English summer – you must feel at home!”

Me, probably.

The vast majority of Spaniards I’ve met who’ve spent any meaningful time in England tend to open any account of their time with “well, the weather was terrible, and it rained every day, but …” I should be grateful for the but, perhaps. There’s usually a period of grumbling about our food as well, but that’s a different story.

The thing is, they’re not entirely wrong, but … is it that much better here? In supposedly sun-soaked Andalucía, winter lasts from November through to February, which granted is shorter than England, but feels twice as long when you don’t have central heating and it’s frequently colder inside than it is out. While England’s been basking in 20-something degree heat this past Easter week, it’s been a bleak, grey washout here – and this is supposed to be the best part of the year, weather-wise. I’m under no illusions that the heat will come; give it a month or so and we’ll all be sitting around dripping with sweat, scurrying from shadow to shadow in case the sun catches a glimpse of us and slowly, steadily melting into gloopy pools on the floor.

So the morals of the minor moan – the rain in Spain falls mostly wherever I am, and English weather really isn’t all that bad, or peculiar.

Halfway House; Two Clasicos Down ...

In the midst of Holy Week here in Spain, Real are making the most of the intervention, divine or otherwise, that has at least slapped the brakes on Barça’s relentless parade. The guttural, grateful roar that went up at around 11:30 and picked up again in earnest twenty-odd minutes later clashed rather with the solemnity of the processions lining the city streets, but no-one outside Cataluña seemed too put out at the mass exhalation.

If the celebrations that met Real’s extra-time win over Barça in the final of the Copa del Rey on Wednesday night seemed a bit OTT given that Los Merengues are still down 6-2 on aggregate for the season and eight points off their rivals in the league, it was probably relief as much as triumph littering the air. The cup was very much third priority for both sides this year, but after last Saturday’s workmanlike restoration of a degree of pride in the 1-1 draw at the Bernabeu, this victory will have gone some way to alleviating the uncharacteristic inferiority complex that might otherwise have been brewing in Real ranks.

While AS are giving away celebratory hats, Marca triumphal posters and Sergio Ramos is coming up with excuses for dropping the trophy under the wheels of the victory parade bus (apparently, says he, it “jumped at seeing so many madridistas …”), Jose Mourinho is surely more likely to put the game into perspective. As hyped-up as this run of four Clasicos has been, these first two are just the warm-up. What with the points gap and Barça’s unassailable form, Saturday’s La Liga encounter was unlikely to be more than a chance to save the ashen faces of November’s 5-0 mauling – while likewise, the Copa del Rey represents minor bragging rights. The big games come in the forthcoming Champions League semis, and this week’s encounters will have unfolded with more than half an eye on these.

Perhaps Pepe’s form and role will transpire to be the most significant triumph of these two games. There’s nothing especially radical about deploying centre-backs in holding midfield roles – Ledley King was doing it to some effect for club and country before his knees turned evil – but the Portuguese has taken to his task with considerable zeal. As odd as it looked to see Madrid parking the bus, and as apparently damning as Barça’s 72%-28% possession was at stages, the overwhelming majority of those passes were made in a broad arc across the half-way line. Like a nervy swimmer trying to summon up the courage to dip his toes in the water, Barça kept pushing the ball forward and pulling it out again. Time and again, space was found and instantly gobbled up by a well-drilled Real, and the ball kept coming back out to Busquets and Pique to summon up another push.

Of course, there’s more to turning the tide of El Clasico than throwing an extra destructive body into the midfield; countless clubs have tried to deny Barça space and time, and Los Cules have shrugged off such shackles with little evident effort. Over the course of these first two games, we’ve still yet to see the reigning champions get firmly into their stride; Puyol’s injury weakened them at the Bernabeu, Adriano picked up another on Wednesday, while Villa (on the worst run of his career) and Alves have been below-par by their standards. Nonetheless, these opening shots have shown that Real have plenty to offer yet, and lifting the Copa del Rey might, just might, encourage Mourinho to unleash his side’s undoubted attacking potential – something that’d set the stage for a tremendous semi-final.

Osasuna await Barça at the weekend, while Real return to the Mestalla to face Valencia, although these are essentially distractions ahead of next week’s recommencement of hostilities. Barça will settle for no more injuries, while Real will savour their cup victory – for another week at least – even if the trophy itself won’t.

My bad.