Game Night

Men stand  two deep at the bar, two to four sit  at each  table along the opposite wall.  Most hold a beer or a class of wine.  Few speak or even look at the companeros at the bar, but the room tenses and sighs as one being. 

"Gol!" for the other side.  Sevilla Betis down 1-0.
 
I know men watch sports on TVs in bars all over America, but somehow, like most things in Sevilla, this is different.

 Maybe it's the clothes.  The most casually dressed is the goal keeper who stopped in after his own team event -- goalie gloves in hand and practice jersey still damp from the neighborhood rivalry, I suppose.  Even in the heat of the evening, several older men sit and stand in full Sevillian business attire -- dress pants, white shirt, suspenders, tie, and jacket.  A younger man perches on a bar stool in black suit, shiny black shoes, his not-quite-shoulder length hair slicked back in tendy waves.  Others sport the "Archie Bunker" look of dress pants and white shirt with loosened tie.  But man, . . . Archie never looked this good.  Something there is about the Sevillan man. 

Maybe it's the quiet.  No yelling and cursing jolts me from my observations  (of course, I am not sure I would recognize Sevillan cursing!);  in fact, as the game progresses, the fans in the bar make little comment.  A goal scored for either team elicits a certain excitement or disappointment, but this is hardly a raucous American sports bar.  This is a neighborhood spo where young people stroll in to check the score and parents bring their children for an evening "tapita."  And the TV's sound is turned down.  Color commentary certainly does exist on Spanish TV, but the bars tend to keep the sound down -- so conversations can continue during the game. 

Maybe it's the unhurried air.  Even as the game intensifies, no one rushes about. The waiters move calmly among the clientele, pouring more wine in response to a nod here or bringing another beer in response to a raised glass there.  The men occasionally acknowledge new comer who stroll in to check the score, a few nibble on montaditos (small sandwiches) or slices of aged cheese, chorizo, or salomillo.  But the game is the focus -- not the food, the company, or the drink.  The waiters seem to accept that these men are here for the duration.  And when the game ends, they will depart en masse.  In the meantime, the tables and the places at the bar are taken -- period.
 
I am not a bar-hopping sort, and I avoid public places during sporting events --the crowds, the noise, the drunken parties just don't do a thing for me. But we have come to look forward to game nights, and we delight in finding a local spot like this one where friendly, well-mannered Sevillianos share the highs and lows of futbol with their fellow aficionados.