Rayo Vallecano’s fans rolled out the banner at 10.46pm on the last Saturday of the season and rolled it away again a minute later. There had been a sneak glimpse of the message they hoped to stretch across the one end of a ground that is actually an end and not just a wall at risk of falling down, but it wasn’t quite time for the big reveal. For now all they wanted was to pull 40 metres of fabric into place, huge white letters proudly painted on a red background, ready for when, if, it actually was. They certainly didn’t intend to tempt fate; it wasn’t done yet, history still not made and, God knows, if there is a place where anything can go wrong, where football and life isn’t always kind but is always lived, it is here.
There was though a brief look before the banner was hidden again behind the back row – something about years, Europe and us – and they were close now. There were 10 minutes plus added time left and the side from the Independent People’s Republic of Vallekas, the last of the neighbourhood teams, not just in the barrio but of the barrio, were on the verge of qualifying for the Conference League. All they had to do was beat Real Mallorca and it turned out they wouldn’t even have to do that: they had taken 28 shots without scoring but it still didn’t matter because up in Vitoria, the team that could take the place from them hadn’t scored either, Osasuna losing 1-0 to Alavés.
