The day began with the rumble of train tracks and the dim light of dawn. Before there was a match, there was a train to catch, a room full of scarves, and a bus full of strangers who did not stay strangers for very long.
01On the way to Edinburgh
A fighting chance
My heart was a mix of excitement and anxiety. The train was delayed by 138 minutes — the sort of delay I hadn’t experienced in years. All I could think about was making it in time for the bus organised by Indios de Caledonia, the Scottish Atlético supporters’ club.
All I could do was hope, silently urging the train to move faster. A journey laden with suffering and uncertainty seemed oddly symbolic of the Atlético spirit.
Thanks to the familiar idea of ‘Spanish time’, the bus departure was postponed by fifteen minutes. The universe had given me a fighting chance. I reached the Polwarth Tavern with moments to spare.
02Polwarth Tavern, Edinburgh
A room full of scarves
The walls were covered from floor to ceiling in Atlético peña scarves. It felt like walking into a time capsule: every scarf carrying a story of passion, drama, and probably a few other last-minute arrivals.
Jaime, the fan club’s chairman, gave me a scarf and a commemorative plaque marking the friendship between the Scottish peña and Peña Atlética Britannia de Londres. He had prepared similar souvenirs for other supporters’ clubs, too.
The objects themselves were small. What they represented was not: people from different parts of the world making room for one another through a shared attachment to the same team.
03Edinburgh → Glasgow
Two buses, one direction
The Scottish supporters had organised two buses. Local regulars travelled alongside visitors from supporters’ clubs around the world. Beer, water and cola were passed around, and songs moved through the bus with them.
Some had flown directly to Scotland. Others had found cheaper flights to London and continued north, to Glasgow or to Edinburgh for the buses. An away end begins long before anyone reaches a turnstile.
04Glasgow
The streets before the stadium
By four in the afternoon, we were in Glasgow. It was my first visit to Scotland’s largest city. Victorian buildings sat beside the distinctive Glasgow Style; bookshops and music shops made me wish I had more time to wander.
At Merchant Square, Atlético supporters laughed and greeted one another. Celtic supporters passed by, exchanging scarves and singing with us. There was a palpable sense of camaraderie.
At six, we set off along London Road, singing on the way to Celtic Park. The match was the destination, but by then the day already had a story of its own.
05Celtic Park → the city centre
Back through the rain
After the match, the Scottish police escorted us back towards the city centre. We walked through the drizzle, the stadium behind us and the last part of the journey still ahead.
I wasn’t born in Madrid, and I’m not Spanish. At one time, it might have been easy to stand at a distance from all of this. But through away trips, conversations and friendships, the distance had become harder to maintain.
There were supporters who became lifelong friends, people who helped me through difficult conversations, and people with whom I could simply share a meal. These were the connections that kept bringing me back.