I remember it as a dream come true—the chance to play in the most important game there is when you’re growing up.” There were 18 minutes left when Sergio Ramos was sent on to the pitch for his first Sevilla derby. He was 17 years old, only four games into his senior career, and he had a job to do: don’t let Real Betis striker Dani move.
Sevilla were a man down at the Benito Villamarin, outnumbered on and off the pitch. It was tense, tough, and hot—the way the Derby is meant to be—and he did exactly as he was told. Not least because he hardly needed to be told. This was just him.
It was time for some intimidation—a kid going at the man. He has nothing to fear. He was an unknown youth, but he didn’t care. Ramos, on the other hand, did what Ramos does. What he’d do over and over again in a unique thousand-game career that’s still not over, now back where it all started. That was in February of 2004. This Sunday evening at the Ramon Sanchez Pizjuan, 18 years and 28 major trophies since his third and final derby in May 2005, he will play another against Betis, his childhood adversaries. That child returned home this summer.
“I would recommend it to anyone,” he says.
“Sevilla saw me born; it formed me, made me a footballer in the first place, and I always had a feeling inside that was Sevilla. I wanted to live this and close the circle. I wanted to come home so that the people here would have the same affection for me as I had for them. I had options elsewhere, such as Saudi Arabia, but I had a debt to the club, my parents, and my grandparents, Antonio Puerta and Jose Antonio Reyes. It was an emotional decision, a passion. Once the chance to go to Sevilla became real, I didn’t even think about anything else. There are things that money doesn’t move; only feeling can.”
“It cou
ld have gone well; it could have gone badly, but if you take a decision with your heart, it will always be the right decision,” Ramos adds.
Ramos is 37 now, and if a lot has changed, a lot hasn’t. Starting with him. “Back then, I would sweat in interviews; now I can lean back and enjoy it,” he says, putting his hands behind his head like a man taking life easy. “But I still live football the same way; I have the same mentality I came into Sevilla with. I have had the chance to win a lot and learn; the only difference between me now and 20 years ago is the experience. But I still get up every day and want to win, as I always did.”
That interview line may not even be fully true; the one in which he posed with nothing but a well-placed pair of boots slung over his neck demonstrated his bravery even back then.
And, besides, there’s a reason he’s the only one left from that Derby day—a reason he returns not just having played a lot of games but also having won every trophy there is—a World Cup and European championship winner, the captain who lifted the European Cup, the most capped player in Spain’s history—something in him that’s still there and always has been. His is a triumph of character as much as quality, and he stands out from the start.
That interview line may not even be fully true; the one in which he posed with nothing but a well-placed pair of boots slung over his neck demonstrated his bravery even back then.
And, besides, there’s a reason he’s the only one left from that Derby day—a reason he returns not just having played a lot of games but also having won every trophy there is—a World Cup and European championship winner, the captain who lifted the European Cup, the most capped player in Spain’s history—something in him that’s still there and always has been. His is a triumph of character as much as quality, and he stands out from the start.
Look at the line-ups from that first derby and feel the nostalgia wash over you—another era: Denilson, Julio Baptista, Dani Alves, Alfonso, and Dario Silva. Even Joaquín has finally bid farewell. Gone now. Jesús Navas is still there, having been away and come back; it is true, but he was a teenager then and didn’t play. Ramos did it his way.
If Ramos became the ultimate comic book captain, something almost cartoonish about him was because he always was. “He was a sinverguenza, in the best possible sense,” says the Sevilla goalkeeper that derby day, Esteban Suarez. Sinverguenza doesn’t translate all that well. It means he had no shame, no fear, and no doubts. He was a scoundrel you wanted in your team, tough as old boots. Chest out, all proud; he wasn’t going to back down for anyone.
On Thursdays, Sevilla would play full 11-a-side games in training, and the kid called up to join them was fierce, ultra-competitive, and not scared of anyone. He would fly into the veterans as if they were opponents, as if they played for Betis.
“I had Pablo Alfaro, Javi Navarro, Dario Silva, and Renato, players who acted as my godfathers, who taught me; they showed me what you have to do and what you don’t, although all players have their own personalities,” Ramos recalls. “Every older player has a role to play with the kids. I had that from them, and that legacy is one that I have to pass on to the younger players now.”
Alfaro and Navarro were absolutely lovely guys, perfect “parents,” one former player insists; they were also hard as nails, a living example of making the most of everything you have. Joaquin Caparros, the coach, was tough too—all blood and thunder. He took Ramos to one side and told him never to shy away, never to let the senior players push him about or intimidate him, as if that were ever going to happen. Quite the opposite.
In one session at the very start, young Ramos clattered into Carlitos. A veteran who was 10 years Ramos’ senior in his third spell at the club, Carlitos was the kind of man you respect. He confronted the teenager. What did he think he was doing? Who did he think he was? They squared up, the usual thing. The veteran warned this kid: There would be words in the dressing room. Well, ok, then. When the session finished and they headed back inside, Ramos approached him, chest out: So, about that word… Carlitos backed off, saying it was all a joke, just messing around.
There would be many more. “I remember his debut in Coruna,” Esteban says. “He makes these two tackles. Not out of control, not a kid who doesn’t know how to go in, no. An announcement: ‘I am Sergio Ramos and this is what I do.’ He had incredible physical strength; technically, he was very good. He would stay behind and practice free kicks, penalties, and everything else. And personality; he learned from Pablo and Javi, who were very important for him, but that character came as standard. When kids come through the academy at Seville, there’s a special thing about them. Set yourself a target and just do it. He was brave and fearless.”
Soon he was gone; he moved to Real Madrid for €27 million. 18 years later, when most have walked away entirely, with nothing left to win and nothing left to give, he is back. A symbol, his impact goes beyond the field, never more relevant than this weekend, which is everything in this city.
“Ramos is on a different level; he is one of the most important sportsmen in Spain’s history, a World Cup winner like Navas, who came through our youth system,” says Sevilla vice president Jose Maria del Nido Carrasco. “There’s a phrase that says sequels are never any good, but this time the opposite is true, with him, Navas, and Ivan Rakitic. He and Navas were raised by the Utrera road [where Sevilla’s training ground is], and it is important to have people like that who feel Sevilla, who have the values of the academy, who understand the idiosyncrasy of the city and club, who know what Seville is and what the derby is. They can educate the other players, showing them what this club means.”
And that is related, Del Nido Carrasco says, to what the other team means and to this being the most special rivalry in Spain. “We’re extroverts. Sevilla is a passionate city, expressed in its culture: in the April Fair, in Easter Week, in football. And it is a dual city. Sometimes you ask yourself: What would Sevilla be without Betis? What would Betis be without Sevilla? We have almost 100,000 season ticket holders between us. If there was only one team, would it have 100,000 season ticket holders? Would it be Madrid or Barcelona?”
Del Nido Carrasco adds: “Perhaps not; perhaps there would not be the same passion if there was just one team. Maybe it would only have the 40,000 or 50,000 we have now. Sevilla is very important for Betis, and Betis is very important for Sevilla. The passion here is created by and lived through the rivalry; that’s what gives both clubs such huge followings; it is as if they were a religious belief, a way of life. This is a city that needs the jokes, the talk, and the banter.”
“It’s more than just a game; it’s emotional and sentimental,” Ramos says. “It’s a game when the result lasts four or five months, until the next time you get the chance for revenge. It’s a game that represents all the good things that football is. I remember the excitement when I played my first When you’re in the academy, it’s always the most important. Sevillanos are a bit special. To understand the way we live, you have to be from here. They say we’re mad, but the link between the city and the team is deep. There’s an essence here; Sevilla smells different; it has a special color. We feel it. This is a city that is divided in two, and my family’s case was always on the red and white side.”
“It’s a lovely feeling to come back and see them every day. It’s one thing to say ‘that’s my home,’ another for it to genuinely be your home again, to feel that the Pizjuan is your ground, that this is your badge. There are few things to compare with the way I feel each day when I get to the training ground. To see the same lady in the laundry who was there 20 years ago, to feel that this is home, comforts your soul,” says Ramos.
“Whatever else you can experience elsewhere, that is special. I wanted to come back and build my relationship with Sevilla above all else. I feel at home; I wanted to finish it with my fans, my home, and my family. I can die a happy man now. Sometimes to grow, you have to go, but you never forget where you are from, never forget your roots, and never feel shame for who you are.”
