The first goal that AFC Bournemouth ever scored in Europe could be heard out on the Bay of Biscay. A tradition from Real Sociedad’s old Atotxa ground, once lost but now recovered at Anoeta, dictates that a single flare is set off every time the visitors score while two are lit when the home team do; that way those out to sea know the score. And so it was that at 21.41 on a Thursday night in September 2026, Justin Kluivert found the net and a man named Juan Iturralde ran out into the street to let everyone know what had happened.
Back in Dorset and high in Anoeta, where 2,000 Bournemouth fans sang their way through this most special of occasions, they knew. They had waited their whole lives for this and it was a nice way to mark the history they made, their arrival announced to Europe with fireworks and a 2-1 victory in San Sebastián, the city where it all began for Andoni Iraola, the manager who brought them here.
Iturralde ran into the night three times – he went once more when Rayan made it 2-0 after 20 minutes and again when Sergio Gómez made it 2-1 on 57 – and might have gone more too. After a superb first half, Bournemouth had to hang on, sometimes desperately, in the second. For a while it had seemed a lead would slip away from their grasp for the fifth time in six games this season, but Djordje Petrovic came to their rescue with two astonishing saves from Orri Óskarsson in the final, dramatic minutes. They had done it, everyone at the final whistle. It had been some battle and they had given everything.
That resistance hadn’t appeared necessary an hour or so earlier. Bournemouth had waited 127 years for a first European game and considerably less for their first goal. They had been playing 10 minutes and 43 seconds and when it came they celebrated it twice. A lovely shift of the body from Evanilson started it, the Brazilian receiving and releasing Adrien Truffert. The cross was perfectly placed, bent behind the defensive line for Kluivert to score.
High in the north-east corner Bournemouth’s fans went up but down in the south-west corner the flag did too, it didn’t take the video assistant referee long to prove that was wrong, and allowing them to do it all again while Iturralde set off into the street. Truffert was on the run again soon after, Alex Scott’s glorious long, looped, curling ball dropping into just the right place for Rayan to head the second.
There was an ease about the way Scott had completed the pass – an almost gentle turn of the ankle, the ball delivered as if by hand – and about the way he played. Amid the speed and intensity he glided. Around him, teammates flew everywhere, Marcus Tavernier especially, and Real Sociedad could not keep up. Three times they threatened from dead balls too: Evanilson headed the first off the post, António Silva headed the second wide and Óskarsson just about headed away a third. Songs from the corner sung to a backdrop of frustrated whistles from the rest of Anoeta.
From the home fans there was relief when half-time arrived without the lead being extended. There was also a reaction, a dash from Ander Barrenetxea signalling their intent and an increase in volume. Petrovic made a superb save from Beñat Turrientes on 56 minutes and almost immediately Real Sociedad pulled one back. Gómez’s curling cross bent all the way through, past the outstretched legs and into the far corner.
This was a different game and a different place now, Real Sociedad’s version of Bad Moon Rising interrupted by an “huuy!” when Gonçalo Guedes’s effort was pushed past the post by Petrovic. Already this season Bournemouth had lost leads against Manchester City, Everton, Newcastle and Brentford, most of them late, and a familiar feeling only increased as Gómez’s fantastic ball sent Guedes through on the left, only for the Portuguese winger to try to cut inside rather than shoot. From the loose ball, Mikel Oyarzabal’s subtle, clipped shot floated onto the top of the bet.
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Gómez was not their only problem. Luka Sucic shot wide on 81 minutes and then Gómez slipped Óskarsson in for what should have been the equaliser. Petrovic though saved that and, somehow, stopped the Iceland striker from five yards in the final minute.
Ultimately, the fireworks were finally over on Bournemouth’s famous night as a European journey that was once unimaginable was heard across the sea.
