PSG may be the best, and rival Paris FC might be the new addition to Ligue 1, but real Parisians know the city’s coolest (and oldest) team can only be Red Star FC.
This is a cross post with the exceptional Terrace Edition. For more groundhopping stories, give them a look.
A spontaneous chance to visit Red Star FC in Paris
I was presented with a surprise visit to Paris, and like any good groundhopper, I immediately started checking local fixtures.
As luck would have it, my first choice, Red Star FC, were playing a Tuesday night match against Troyes. A quick call to a Parisian friend, and our seats were secured. We’d be checking out the under-construction Stade Dr. Bauer and taking in a weeknight Ligue 2 game.
Real ones know that’s the best night of the week for football. This was shaping up to be a proper Red Star FC Paris matchday experience.
Arrival in Saint-Ouen
Stade Bauer sits in an “emerging” neighborhood of Saint-Ouen-sur-Seine. I’d been to the nearby flea market, Marché aux Puces de Saint-Ouen (well worth the hassle to get to), so I knew the area near the périphérique and Porte de Clignancourt was best avoided after dark.
Unless you’re hunting for questionable “Nike” shoes or testing your luck at keeping your wallet.
That was the image in my head as I transferred from Metro Line 1 to Line 13 with commuters, students, and families heading north. I was leaving my temporary home in the 4th arrondissement, Le Marais, and venturing into the Paris that feels a bit more lived in. It’s far from the tourist sites, and I was thrilled to finally experience the side of Paris most visitors never see.
Emerging at Garibaldi station, any misgivings I had about the northern suburbs vanished in the rush of cool air and the distant view of Montmartre looking south. It’s a slightly longer walk to the stadium than from Porte de Clignancourt, but the vibe is much more welcoming and safer.
Instead of dodging touts under a highway overpass, there were bustling bars and cafés, kids zipping by on scooters, and fans from both teams streaming toward Stade Bauer. Zig-zagging through side streets, I started catching glimpses of the floodlights and hearing the first chants of Red Star’s famously passionate supporters carried on the autumn breeze.
I was running late, so a pint at the excellent Olympic de Saint-Ouen bar would have to wait until after the match.
First Impressions
Red Star FC is far and away the people’s club of Paris. Tickets are cheap, beer’s cheap, and a scarf falls somewhere in between.
The stadium used to be a working-class dream, one I’d wanted to visit for years.
That, however, is changing. Waiting to cross the street, it’s immediately apparent the times (and the vibes) are shifting. The old stadium is mostly gone. In its place stands a brand-new main terrace, an apartment and office complex rising behind the north goal, and a south stand housing luxury boxes and a small visiting-fan section. Across the pitch, the future site of the west terrace sits framed by a mix of old industrial buildings and shiny new builds, a clear sign this is an area in transition.
The plan is to add yet another terrace along the north touchline, fully enclosing the ground and giving Red Star a home worthy of its history.
Foreign investment from U.S.-based 777 Partners (and pressure to have the ground ready for the 2024 Olympics) has accelerated those changes. There’s genuine worry that modernization will chip away at the club’s working-class soul. As an American, I know that feeling all too well: when money starts to meddle with a beloved franchise.
For now, construction continues. I weave past barriers and the tiny shipping container doubling as a coat and bag check for commuters catching the match after work. It’s all part of the Red Star FC Paris matchday experience: gritty, charming, and full of life.
Under the Lights
The new east terrace is well done. Wide, clean, and easy to navigate. It’s even easier to grab a €7 beer, courtesy of local brewery Paname.
Beers in hand, my Parisian friend Pierre (yes, that’s really his name) joins me just in time to take one off my hands, and we head for our seats.
Midway through the first half comes the brightest spot of the evening. A flurry of play near the north goal ends with an outrageous bicycle kick from left-back Matthieu Huard. Un beau but! The crowd erupts. My friend and I raise our cups and shout “Santé!” It’s clear these won’t be our last beers tonight.
I’m sold. Red Star has a new fan in this Francophile.
We never make it to our assigned seats, someone’s already claimed them. But no matter. We find a couple of open spots in the top row near the journalistes. I’m thrilled. I’ll be able to banter with my friend, listen to the grumpy scribes behind us, and enjoy the musical chants from the ultras to our right. Mostly, I’m just soaking in the French language I’m working harder and harder to understand. It’s a bit easier when you’re in a situation that makes sense to you. IE: sat in the stands at a soccer match.
To my left stands Stade Bauer’s most ridiculous defining feature (for now): a stair-stepped apartment block that dominates the southern vista. Eyesore though it may be, it’s oddly charming to watch residents poke their heads out of windows mid-match. Imagine cooking dinner while watching football live over your shoulder.
A Cold, Rainy Night in Saint-Ouen
As I’m taking it all in, the rain begins to fall, just enough to make it cinematic. I mention to Pierre that the view couldn’t be more perfect, and we set about translating “a cold, rainy night in Stoke” into French.
But football has a sense of humor. Troyes suddenly level through a tidy left-footed strike from Merwan Ifnaoui, then take the lead moments later as Antoine Mille slots home from a tight angle.
The visiting fans in the south stand go absolutely mental, like a human waterfall surging over the front rows and onto the pitch. Three or four overwhelmed ushers herd them back up the stairs, only for them to start the process over again.
They get plenty of practice celebrating tonight, walking out 3–1 winners after Jaurès Assoumou rounds out the scoresheet.
Scoreline aside, it’s still one of my favorite nights of football anywhere. We linger before leaving, snapping a photo with the Stade Bauer turf in the background. Nearby, a Red Star player greets old friends in the stands, a local boy made good. Smiles all around.
The east stand empties, and I resolve to return once the stadium is complete. It may be new, but the fans and the club will see to it that the fire, passion, and working-class heart never leave Red Star.
The bathroom floor may not be sticky yet, but stickers already cover every available surface. The merch stand takes tap-to-pay, but the attendant still finds time to chat about past kits (and Red Star has had some bangers). The team is changing, yes, but what makes it great remains. I hope it always does.
Picon, Rain, and Reflection
Since we missed it earlier, Pierre and I duck into the Olympic after the match for a much-needed nightcap. It’s here, in the rain, that I’m introduced to Picon, a French, almond-orange liqueur floated atop my grand cup of Kronenbourg. A few sips in, I’m feeling pleasantly floaty myself.
We talk about Red Star’s future, and our own favorite ice hockey team, the St. Louis Blues. A TV hums behind us, the bar buzzes with laughter, and nobody seems to care about the loss. We’ve got time to kill before the last train. Photos from decades past line the walls. Friends buy friends another bière avec Picon.
It’s past midnight when I bid my friend à bientôt. The Picon has gone to my head, but I float, smiling, all the way back to the Metro and back to Le Marais. Back to the tourist’s Paris.
But not before grabbing one last look at Mont Martre from a vantage point too many visitors to the capital will miss.
But my heart stays with Red Star. When I return, the stadium will be new, the neighborhood more polished. But the tickets will still be cheap, the beers cheaper, and the crowd loud and full of life.
For me, that’s the essence of the Red Star FC Paris matchday experience, the perfect mix of old soul and new shine.
