In 1986, the Everton manager Howard Kendall was earmarked as a potential replacement for Terry Venables, who was at the time considering his position in the wake of Barcelona’s defeat to Steaua București in the European Cup final. Ultimately Venables decided to stay put, and in an ironic twist then paid Everton £2.8 million for the services of their star striker, Gary Lineker. The following season Kendall won a second First Division championship with Everton, after which Athletic Bilbao sent a delegation over to Liverpool to offer him a job. With English clubs banned from competing in Europe for the foreseeable future, the lure of managing abroad was too much for him to resist.
It is difficult,
though not impossible, to imagine Kendall holding court at Camp Nou, but Estadio
San Mamés seems his more natural habitat. It was, in many ways, comparable to
Goodison Park: hemmed in, dominated by a large grandstand, irregularly joined
up at the corners, of a similar size. Indeed, the old San Mamés was atypical of
Spanish stadia, which is not something that can be said of the present one.
The original San Mamés – known to its regulars as La Catedral – was built in 1913 and consisted then of a wooden grandstand on one side, a rudimentary crescent-shaped terrace on the other and shallow lines of terracing behind each goal. Its capacity varies depending on where you get your information. Simon Inglis reckons 10,000, Estadios de Espana concurs, StadiumDB say 3,500, while The Stadium Guide and Athletic Bilbao’s own website stipulate 7,000, which by 1920 had risen to 9,000. Regardless, the most significant structural augmentation was implemented in 1953 with the construction of a massive two-tiered grandstand on the ground’s western perimeter. Bookended by two five-storey towers, acting as buttresses, the roof was suspended from a huge steel arch spanning 115 metres. As a standalone structure it must have seemed immense, contributing 12,000 seats towards a total capacity of 47,000, dwarfing the more modest stands that surrounded it.
The original San Mamés – known to its regulars as La Catedral – was built in 1913 and consisted then of a wooden grandstand on one side, a rudimentary crescent-shaped terrace on the other and shallow lines of terracing behind each goal. Its capacity varies depending on where you get your information. Simon Inglis reckons 10,000, Estadios de Espana concurs, StadiumDB say 3,500, while The Stadium Guide and Athletic Bilbao’s own website stipulate 7,000, which by 1920 had risen to 9,000. Regardless, the most significant structural augmentation was implemented in 1953 with the construction of a massive two-tiered grandstand on the ground’s western perimeter. Bookended by two five-storey towers, acting as buttresses, the roof was suspended from a huge steel arch spanning 115 metres. As a standalone structure it must have seemed immense, contributing 12,000 seats towards a total capacity of 47,000, dwarfing the more modest stands that surrounded it.
The
southern end of the stadium – the Tribuna de Capuchinos – was rebuilt in
1956, the northern – Tribuna de Misericordia – in 1962. Both had two
tiers, propped roofs and irregular footprints, the metropolis having encroached
upon San Mamés in the intervening years. In an effort to maximise this
diminishing space, the south-eastern corner was filled in with a bank of
rudimentary boxes. The east stand was then built up in 1971, retaining its
distinctive crescent shape, and now also comprised of two covered tiers.
The next significant
changes were a direct result of the 1982 World Cup, to be held in Spain. The
east and west tribunas remained as they were, while the northern and
southern ends were knocked down and replaced with matching stands, providing a degree
of uniformity. The towers either side of the grandstand were removed to allow
the newly built ends to join up with it, which involved inserting cantilevered
brackets to support the weight of the arch. The roofs over these remodelled stands
were also cantilevered, with rear windows running along the top of their curved outside edge. The
southern end retained its awkward shape, angled to accommodate the road behind
it (rather like Everton’s Goodison Road Stand). The ground now held around 46,000
of which 36,000 was seated. By the end of the 1990s the corners between the
north, east and south stands had been filled in and seating implemented throughout,
reducing the overall capacity to just under 40,000.
In 2006, Athletic Bilbao announced its intention to build a new stadium. Because the site of the new build overlapped with the old, it was to be assembled in two stages. Work began on the stadium’s first three quarters in 2010 and was completed in September 2013, by which time the original one had been demolished, leaving a gap where it once stood.
South and East stands with corner section.
In 2006, Athletic Bilbao announced its intention to build a new stadium. Because the site of the new build overlapped with the old, it was to be assembled in two stages. Work began on the stadium’s first three quarters in 2010 and was completed in September 2013, by which time the original one had been demolished, leaving a gap where it once stood.
In his book The Football Grounds of Europe, Simon Ingles says of Dusseldorf’s Rheinstadion that: ‘Had the stadium been completely enclosed, instead of being left open at the south end, the effect would have been far less appealing.’ He is referring to the development of the stadium between 1968 and 1972, and the reason it was left open was because of the open-air swimming pool contiguous to it. It wasn't an aesthetic choice but a practical one. The National Stadium in Cardiff used to be similarly breached, in that instance to allow light into the adjacent buildings. Oxford's Kassam Stadium, on the other hand, looks like it does because the club didn't have enough money to finish the job. There's nearly always a reason. Estádio Municipal de Braga, built into the side of a quarry, is the only ground I can think of where the effect is intentional and permanent. It has also won numerous architectural awards.
Needless to say, San Mamés didn't remain in this intermediate state for very long – just under a year. Once complete, the predictability of the design revealed itself. Consisting of two continuous tiers, with a smaller 'club level' between them, it resembles a scaled down version of Munich's Allianz Arena. It differs in that the leading edge of the upper tier undulates, sweeping downward towards the ground's corners. Arsenal's Emirates Stadium and Benfica's Estádio da Luz employ the same strategy, but whereas those stadia leave their corners open, here they've been filled in with 'sky boxes'. Whatever you think about high-end corporate facilities, these suites have the satisfying effect of sealing the ground in, literally and metaphorically. Unfortunately, Bilbao have followed Arsenal and Benfica's example in decking out the interior in toytown red (my description), which isn’t so obvious on match days but is an affront to the senses when the ground is empty.
From the outside, things are a little different. The site of the stadium is elevated, overlooking the River Nervión, the district of Deusto on the opposite side, and the river’s southern bank. It is visible from a number of angles and can be seen as another building in a long list of them that have proliferated in and around the district of Abando. Abando is not the city’s heart, Casco Viejo is, but it used to be its industrial centre. Nowadays, it is where you’ll find much of Bilbao’s modern architecture: the Isozaki Atea towers, Euskalduna Conference Centre and Concert Hall, La Salve Bridge, the Guggenheim Museum. Bilbao has long been in the process of reinventing itself, and buildings are its means. With this in mind, San Mamés had to walk a fine line; it needed to impose without being imposing.
It does and it isn’t. The façade is composed of five rows of twisted, white, vertical louvres made out of Ethylene Tetrafluoroethylene. Each row reaches out slightly farther than the one beneath and is capable of being backlit (another thing in common with Munich’s Allianz Arena). Four large rectangular LED screens break the monotony, neatly encased within red-coloured frames. The roof is impressive too, although all that can be seen of it from street-level is a dark grey mantle angled inwards. It is enough to convey a sense of solidity, that there’s something substantial behind the permeable veneer.
And that was supposed to be that, but it rains a fair amount in Bilbao and it turned out the roof didn’t afford complete protection. Rather than live with it, like football fans used to, the canopy was extended in 2016 at a cost of €12.6 million. The visual quality of this extra coverage is debatable, and it has necessitated the use of artificial lighting to maintain the condition of the pitch, but at least everyone can keep dry.
On balance, Estadio San Mamés must be deemed a success. The old stadium was very old, and as interesting as it was from within it held little interest from without. The new stadium, although very much like other new stadiums, looks all right, is clean and comfortable, has excellent viewing angles (the stands are steeper than those at Arsenal) and can generate a good atmosphere. It’s that last point that really counts.
