Castleford Tigers in La Terreta - Alfie Norris gives a personal account of a different rugby league experience in Spain

Working as a teacher in Alzira, Valencia alongside my scouse girlfriend Jenni, is a delight and privilege. But, like any self-respecting northerner, there are certain home comforts that you begin to miss. Pie, chips, and gravy aside, living in a new country is sometimes a challenge. After all, ayup doesn’t quite translate into Valencian Catalan, writes Alfie Norris.

Rugby league is not a game you’d associate with Spain, or many places outside of the anglophone world. But, there is a strong argument to be made that Catalan is the sport’s second tongue.

Already embedded into the culture of French Catalonia and Occitania, the RFL (Rugby Football League) is now making efforts to help expand the sport into Spain.

In 2020 Featherstone Rovers were first invited to play Valencia Huracanes, a new rugby league team attempting to build the sport in Spain. After a thumping Featherstone win and a pandemic-forced hiatus, Castleford Tigers were now coming to Spain to try their luck.

Alzira lies only a few kilometres up the valley from Tavernes, where the Tigers were based for a week-long winter training camp. A fact that would have tickled my Castleford collier grandparents, who could rarely have imagined their offspring working in the light of Spain, not the dust of the mines.

In need of northern companionship, Jenni and I made the journey down to Tavernes to watch the Tigers win what we hoped would be a triple-figure victory.

Starting from the subway tunnel of Gandia central train station, the windows flashed black, before we we were deposited into fields of green shrubs, dotted with the mandarins and oranges of Valencia´s mediterranean hinterland. For 15 minutes we rode on fast modern carriages along citrus fields, locked in between the verdant mountains and sea.

The first sign that things had not gone quite to plan occurred upon our arrival at Tavernes train station. Accustomed to the dismal state of rail infrastructure back home, the unusual crumbling structure of the town’s half-built station shocked even two northern train aficionados.

Local buses, unlike the normally excellent train network, are often poorly signed in Spain. By fortune, one arrived promptly and we were whisked the two miles from the station to Tavernes centre.

The town has been home to a rugby club since 1934 and in its main square there was a party atmosphere as preparations began for Valencia´s iconic Fallas festivities.

Arriving early at the rugby ground, we were surprised to see no Castleford fans, despite posters advertising the game for 3pm. It was only after checking social media, that we saw the game had already begun, after pitch conditions required it to be moved to Tavernes football ground.

Rushing up the street, we were greeted by 200 travelling fans and a throng of locals watching what turned out to be the last quarter of the game.

Despite our initial disappointment, the Tigers put on a show and made the most of the low-contact game.

Inside the club bar, the away support drank Spanish beer as they cheered on the Yorkshire side, while local supporters sipped casalla the fiery Valencian anis spirit.

After the game, capped with a Cas victory by 50 points to eight both teams paused for photos together, with players signing boots and kit for locals and passing the ball to juniors from Tavernes.

Rugby league may be a developing sport in Spain, but it´s clear that the Castleford presence had a big impact on youth players in the town. Kids stood beaming as they took turns to get photos with the boys in black and orange.

Sat for a post-match drink in Marys, a fusion of Valencian cafe-bar and Irish pub, we were joined by two Staffordshire rugby fans, Luke and Tat. They had travelled from Benidorm by Uber but missed most of the game due to the unexpected time change.

Stranded in Tavernes, Jenni ordered them a local taxi, as we sipped Turia beer and locally brewed Amstel. Panic averted; I felt a tug of guilt that they might be put off watching Cas.

After swapping numbers, we were relieved to find out they made it back to spend the evening in Benidorm´s famous Neptunes bar — in new Cas Tigers caps.

As our metro train wound its way out of Tavernes, we reached Silla where we changed lines for a return train to Alzira. Checking in my badly accented Spanish if the train was correct, an eager voice replied to me in English.

The man was from Argentina and swapped stories with us as we rode the 25 minutes home. Why, he wanted to know, had we been to Tavernes? ´Ahhh, Rugby. It’s very popular in Argentina, you know. The English brought us football too. Now we are even better than you at it.’ Laughing, he was right (for now).

Maybe, in years to come, the Valencians may say the same about rugby league.