Skip to main content

Tell Rayo fans why... (3rd March, 2017)

Tell Rayo fans why their stadium has no light,
With leaks in the plumbing and grass in the seats,
Tell Rayo fans why ten of them can't enter the stadium,
For expressing a view different from the elites.

Tell Rayo fans why millions were spent,
On a sporting project that was doomed to fail,
Tell Rayo fans why after winning three leagues,
The women's team is now looking pale.

Tell Rayo fans why both players and staff,
Have been signing fake contracts - being basically used,
Tell Rayo fans why one of their official peñas,
Has been ordered that the club badge be removed.

Tell Rayo fans why the budgets are late and poor,
With excuses like "the spreadsheet added badly",
Tell Rayo fans why after everything that has happened,
You can still say you are our President. Gladly.

I hope you enjoyed that little poem. 

In other news, Marca screenshots transfermarkt.com to show the possible destinations of Roman Zozulya, ruling out former club Dnipro whose transfer market shut yesterday. (Read it here). After meeting with José Lorenzo (Zozulya's agent), Rayo have agreed to extend the deadline and allowed him to train with Betis until further meetings.

Also, if Roberto Trashorras plays against Reus Deportiu, he will join an exclusive club of 200-games-played-for-Rayo, joining the following people: Michel, Felines, Alcázar, Uceda, Bordons, Anero, Piti, De Quintana, Amaya, Bolo, Potele, Aráez, Morón, Albiol and Coke.

What. A. Legend.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Non-league Incider: Dulwich Hamlet 2-1 East Thurrock United

When I was more young and foolish I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't visit a football stadium until I visited Vallekas. Frustrated by my inability to plan a trip, I broke that promise by watching a game in the sixth tier of English football.

This is that game. This is my story.

If I've learnt anything, it's this: never make promises to yourself. Promises to yourself are like bonds to an imaginary world - they're not attached to anything. Instead, they only serve to frustrate you, and sometimes those around you.

In 2016, I remember being outside Wembley and not going inside for a stadium tour. In 2014, I remember giving up the opportunity to watch Real Madrid play AC Milan in Dubai. For a year the stadiums of Chelsea and Fulham were on the same street as mine. For three years, every time my friend said he was going to watch Leyton Orient, every time my brother talked about his love for Arsenal, every time I looked at a map of London and saw how close I was to the …

Non-league Incider: Cray Valley Paper Mills 4-4 Punjab United Gravesend

Last game: 9th August: St Helens Town 3-0 Atherton Laburnum Rovers
After ripping up my groundhopping calendar, mostly because I was determined to avoid overnight travel, and partly due to other commitments, there was a period of time where non-league football took a backseat.
But that period did not last long. Because of course it didn't.

Secretly, I'd loved travelling over ten hours back-and-forth to watch some 10th division football. And this was 9th division football in London.
When I had gone to East Dulwich exactly a week back, I had commented on how the amount of graffiti struck me as I watched from on board a southeastern train. I was going the exact same way, but much further this time - then I had stopped at Denmark Hill, now I would have to go six stations further. The graffiti I had thought was so emblematic of south London quickly disappeared, as did the tall buildings desperately cluttered together. We, and by we I mean me, were going to the suburbs. The stations be…

Non-league Incider: St Helens Town 3-0 Atherton Laburnum Rovers

Last game: 8th August: Dulwich Hamlet 2-1 East Thurrock United

The previous day, I was blown away by my first ever football match experience. Dulwich Hamlet impressed me, but what impressed me more was the journey. The travel to the stadium was just as enjoyable as the football itself.

I had caught the groundhopping bug.

There were no games scheduled for the 9th of August. There was one, near Wigan, and all I had booked earlier was a refundable bus ticket from Manchester Airport leaving at quarter past midnight.

I should have refunded it. This was a mistake. This whole day was a mistake.

I was only slightly hungover from the previous night, but that was nothing compared to this feeling of loss - I couldn't handle the fact that there was a game happening. And I wasn't too far away. Just three hours and a bit. They'll fly by, I thought.

I was in autopilot. Something within me made me get up, grab a bag, and get out the door. This wasn't me. I wasn't travelling - I was …