In a display of raw emotion that has Seville’s streets humming with pride, Real Betis players turned the Benito Villamarín into a family reunion on Sunday, escorting the club’s 11 oldest members—ranging from 82 to 96 years young—as their mascots in a La Liga showdown against Osasuna. The green-and-white heroes, led by captain William Carvalho, linked arms with these lifelong Béticos, whose weathered faces lit up like the floodlights above. But the moment that’s gone viral? One 94-year-old patriarch, Don Manuel, leaned into his grandson—Betis winger Chimy Ávila—and murmured a “final wish” lost to the roar: to see the club lift the Copa del Rey one last time. Will it ignite a season-defining run, or is it the spark for a fan-led legacy fund in his name?

The gesture unfolded at kickoff on September 28, 2025, before a sellout crowd of 58,000 that included Spanish royalty and A-list Andalusians. As the teams emerged from the tunnel, the pitch transformed: no pint-sized kids in oversized kits, but a line of silver-haired icons, draped in replica jerseys embroidered with their membership years—some dating back to the 1950s. The eldest, 96-year-old Carmen “La Abuela” Ruiz, clutched the arm of striker Borja Iglesias, her eyes misty under a lifetime of loyalty. “I’ve cheered from the terraces since Franco’s days,” she later shared with Marca, her voice a gravelly hymn. “To walk with my boys? It’s heaven on grass.” The crowd erupted in a thunderous “¡Viva el Betis!”—the club’s defiant motto, “Long live Betis even if it loses”—as petals rained from the stands, a nod to Seville’s flower-festooned fervor.

This wasn’t mere optics; it was Betis’s beating heart on display. Founded in 1907 amid Seville’s working-class grit, Real Betis Balompié earned its “Real” moniker in 1914 via King Alfonso XIII’s patronage, outpacing rivals Sevilla FC in royal favor. The club’s DNA? Underdog spirit, from the 1935 La Liga triumph—the only one to date—to the 2005 Copa del Rey glory that packed the streets with 200,000 revelers. Benito Villamarín, home since 1958, isn’t just a stadium; it’s a shrine to resilience, where fans tattoo “manque pierda” (even if it loses) as badges of honor. Under president Ángel Haro and coach Manuel Pellegrini, the Verdiblancos sit sixth after seven games, buoyed by Ávila’s eight goals and a Europa League quarterfinal run last spring. But amid the glamour, Betis never forgets its roots—literally, with initiatives like the “Bético Eterno” program honoring seniors who’ve paid dues for 50+ years.

The 11 honorees embodied that eternity. Take Don Francisco López, 89, a former dockworker who survived the 1982 relegation riots and once smuggled flares into the old Heliópolis ground. Paired with midfielder Marc Roca, he shuffled out beaming, cane in one hand, Betis scarf in the other. Or 85-year-old Miguel “El Poeta” Serrano, whose verses in the fanzine El Gran Derbi have skewered Sevilla for decades; he high-fived Isco mid-tunnel, quipping, “Now that’s poetry in motion.” The group spanned generations: three women, eight men, all Seville natives whose stories weave the club’s tapestry—from post-Civil War blackouts watching torchlit friendlies to the 2022 Europa League semis heartbreak against Frankfurt. “These are our ghosts, our guardians,” Pellegrini said pre-match. “They built this with callused hands. Today, we carry them.”

Osasuna, no slouches at fourth, fell 2-1 in a thriller—Ávila’s 72nd-minute curler sealing it after Ante Budimir’s equalizer. But the real score was emotional. As the elders took their seats in the directors’ box, giant screens replayed archival footage: grainy clips of 1960s derbies, synced to flamenco guitars. Halftime brought a surprise: each received a personalized plaque and a €1,000 club donation to local elder care. Social media exploded—#AbuelosBéticos trended worldwide with 300,000 posts, fan edits blending the walkout with The Godfather-style montages. Sevilla’s official account even extended olive branches: “Class from the green side. Respect.” (Cue eye-rolls from diehards.)

At the epicenter? Don Manuel Vargas, 94, whose whispered wish to Ávila—a family secret until a lip-reader unearthed it—has become legend. Vargas, a retired tailor whose stitches mended more than hems during Spain’s lean years, joined in 1948 after his father bartered a suit for membership. His grandson Chimy, the Argentine firecracker signed from Osasuna in 2023 for irony’s sake, grew up on tales of Betis’s “manque pierda” ethos. “Abuelo taught me to love fiercely, lose gracefully,” Ávila posted post-match, a photo of them arm-in-arm. The “final wish”? Sources say it was simple: “Win the Copa for the old ones, mijo—before I go.” Ávila, teary-eyed in the tunnel, vowed: “This season’s ours. For you.” Insiders buzz about a “Vargas Legacy” fund: proceeds from a special scarf line to support senior fans’ matchday access, potentially launching at December’s Sevillano derby.

Pellegrini’s side, blending Chilean nous with Andalusian flair, has thrived on such sentiment. The 71-year-old tactician, who dragged Manchester City to the brink in 2014, calls Seville “football’s flamenco—passion over perfection.” His squad, a €150 million alchemy of youth (teen sensation Assane Diao) and guile (veteran Joaquín’s cameos), eyes a top-four push and Copa semis. The mascot march? A masterstroke from the club’s “Herencia Verde” (Green Heritage) campaign, inspired by Celtic’s senior tifo last year. “In England, it’s corporate; here, it’s blood,” Haro explained to AS. “These 11? They’ve outlasted dictators, pandemics, and three relegations. They’re why we fight.”

Fan reactions? Pure catharsis. The Supporters’ Group, 5,000 strong, unfurled a banner: “De Abuelos a Nietos—Verde Eterno” (From Grandparents to Grandchildren—Eternal Green). On TikTok, Carmen Ruiz’s clip—dancing a tentative sevillana with Iglesias—hit 2 million views, spawning #NonnaGoals. Even neutrals melted: La Liga’s official reel garnered 1.5 million likes, with Xavi Hernández commenting, “Barça salutes true familia.” Critics? A smattering of Sevilla trolls dubbing it “senior siesta,” but drowned out by unity. One viral thread from @BeticoEterno72: “My abuelo was No. 456. Died last year—wish he’d seen this. Betis heals.”

This weekend’s magic arrives as Betis navigates turbulence: a midweek Europa League tilt against Midtjylland, where Ávila’s form could shine. Off-pitch, the gesture spotlights Spain’s aging fanbase—average age 62 per a 2024 RFEF study—urging clubs to bridge generations. Don Manuel, now recuperating from the excitement, received a video montage from the squad: “Copa coming home, abuelo.” Will Ávila’s promise hold? Early signs: training clips show the winger drilling corners with Vargas’s photo taped to the net.

In Seville’s sun-baked soul, where the Guadalquivir whispers ancient tales, Betis’s walkout reminds: football’s not billion-euro bids or VAR farces—it’s the grip of gnarled hands on young shoulders, legacies laced in green. From the 11 elders to the boy wonder, it’s a chain unbroken. ¡Viva er Betis manque pierda—especially when it wins. For Don Manuel and all who came before: the pitch is yours.