After moving to Charlotte last month, I realized I had no clue where to catch Real Madrid games here. Missing those matches was killing me, so last Sunday I set out on a mission. Grabbed my phone, rushed out the door, and started hunting.
The Crappy First Try
First, I randomly walked into this sports bar downtown near the bank buildings. Looked flashy outside, but inside? Dead silent during La Liga matches. TV had golf on. Asked the bartender where the football was. He pointed to some tiny screen in the corner playing Premier League reruns. Yeah, nah. Ordered a watery beer just to be polite, chugged it, and bounced.
Asking Around Like a Madman
Started bugging everyone I met. My Uber driver said “try South End.” My coffee guy whispered “head to NoDa.” Scrolled through apps too, but reviews either lied or talked about NFL Sundays. Finally, my neighbor Carlos – total football junkie – texted me three spots:
- That London place near the train tracks
- The loud Irish pub on the main strip
- Some hole-in-the-wall Colombian joint
Grabbed my notebook and charged my phone. Time for round two.
The Gold Mine
Checked the Irish pub first. Packed. Like, crammed-like-sardines packed. Three TVs showed Madrid vs. Girona, but couldn’t even see the screen through all the shoulder-to-shoulder bodies. Beer cost like concert tickets too. Noped outta there.
Then hauled myself over to the Colombian spot. Outside looked sketch – just a faded yellow door with no sign. Opened it… BOOM. Madrid flags everywhere. People screaming at a Benzema replay like he was their cousin. Ordered a cheap Club Colombia beer, found one wobbly table in the back. Game was crystal clear on four massive screens. Old dude next to me kept yelling tactical advice at Ancelotti. Felt like home.
My Verdict
So after wasting a whole afternoon running around like a headless chicken, here’s the real deal for Madridistas in Charlotte:
- For top-tier atmosphere: That Colombian dive bar. Show up early though – only 12 tables total.
- If you want English commentary (but packed): The Irish pub. Bring earplugs. And extra cash.
- Avoid at all costs: Any downtown “sports bar” with shiny TVs but no damn football soul.
Ended up staying till closing at the Colombian spot. Made friends with three guys arguing about Modric’s retirement plans. They bought me shots. My phone died. Worth every damn minute.
