Sid Lowe in Spain

There's something about Real Betis. Whether it is the man who took his dad to every game despite him being dead, carrying a milk carton of ashes to the stadium and perching it on his usual seat; the fan who turned up with a box tied to his head that doubled as a 'cage' for a green budgie that flew back and forth; or the giant loaf of bread baked into a Betis shield and held aloft like a great big doughy trophy, there's something about them. Something special. Some will wince when they read that, rolling their eyes and muttering: "not again". Others will dismiss the populist portrayal as folklore, not fact. But even those who shun the cliches that have been imposed upon and embraced by the club on the Guadalquivir – and there are plenty of them – would claim that Betis are different.