James Richardson's blog
In his latest blog on the Guardian Unlimited website, the face of Italian football in the UK - James Richardson, waved goodbye to some of Italian football's most loved landmarks...
" Wave goodbye for now to your landmarks of the Italian game. The San Siro is closed, the San Paolo in Naples too. Anyone carrying flares or bangers anywhere near a stadium anytime near a match faces up to four years in jail. Night-time games are a thing of the past, and travelling fans too. And Catania will be playing the rest of their season a long, long way away from their now infamous Cibali Stadium.
These are just a few of the new measures awaiting Calcio as it struggles back to its feet, and after last weekend's violence few can doubt the need for change. What happened at the Cibali was an authentic ambush. When the police arrived escorting the visiting Palermo fans, the Ultras attacked using some of the close to 100 homemade bombs they'd amassed in the stadium, apparently with the help of a sympathetic caretaker. Broken sinks, pipes and a scooter were also hurled at the officers. One policeman narrowly escaped with his life; another was not so fortunate.
Catania v Palermo will take Calcio a long time to recover from, yet had it not been for the fact that an officer died at a top-level game - had he, say, merely been injured like countless others before - the game and the accompanying riot wouldn't have caused much fuss in Italy. Scenes like these are not uncommon. Witness the fact that last Friday's match actually began with a minute's silence in memory of a man kicked to death during a violent row at a non-league match just five days before.
Violence has been a growing problem around Italian matches for years, quietly accepted by clubs, authorities and fans (and by columnists like myself, too) as an inevitable part of the game. The blame for this is generally laid at the door of the Ultras, the hardcore fans. Whilst they are by no means bad by definition - many are simply passionate but peaceful supporters - these groups have provided a valuable mantle of anonymity to many violent fans.
For years it has seemed that there was nothing the Ultras couldn't get away with. They've attacked referees for unpopular decisions, and 'disciplined' players for poor performances. They've invaded training grounds, demanded and won crisis talks with players and even had matches called off. Remember the Rome derby three years ago? The sight of a meek Francesco Totti being beckoned by two Ultra chiefs over to the Curva Sud to hear their demands was a useful snapshot of how unwilling this sport has been to confront its most dangerous fans.
Why? Because otherwise, the theory went, they might cause even more trouble. In the Curvas, with tens of thousands of fans packed in together and only a few narrow points of access, Italian police dared not tread. "It would have been considered an act of war," explains one officer, a veteran of the Catania riot. As a result, Ultras have been free to do largely as they pleased: smoke a joint, throw a flare, lob a burning scooter, all outside police jurisdiction. "That's another country in there, outside the Italian Republic," the policeman bitterly concludes.
As for the clubs, faced with heavy fines if the Ultras act up in the stadium, they too have gone to great lengths to keep on their good side. Journalists in Milan tell of the Rossoneri's last scudetto celebrations, where, despite being banned from entering the stadium, one of Milan's most infamous capitofosi was seated at the table next to Silvio Berlusconi. Such attention is not unusual: free air travel, season tickets and financial contributions have all been passed on to these most volatile supporters.
For the Ultras, this is a valuable source of income, and woe betide anyone who disrupts it: the Lazio president Claudio Lotito now travels with an armed guard after cutting his club's ties to these fans, while Milanese police put the recent shooting of a capitifoso down to the battle for control of club favours.
However, there are now signs of a change. This week's measures are specifically aimed at rolling back the Ultras' power after years of appeasement. Aside from a ban on contact between Ultras and clubs, there's the ban on groups of travelling fans and steeper penalties for any form of attack on the police. Many law-abiding Ultras will feel themselves demonised by the restrictions, which will change the landscape of the Italian game; the Ultras' colourful flares and pre-game choreography have long been part of Serie A's attraction. But compared to the ongoing tragedy that came to a head last Friday, it's all a price worth paying.
Meanwhile, the decision to force clubs whose stadiums don't meet security requirements - 14 of the 20 Serie A sides - to play behind closed doors has provoked a storm of protest from the league itself. Napoli's owner calls it "fascist", while Atalanta's owner says he "can't rule out' a strike by the clubs themselves". "If three clubs play with their crowds behind them, and the others don't, it'll make the championship unfair," points out Gennaro Gattuso of Milan, one of the teams affected. It's a fair point, but bear in mind that all the clubs are being asked to do is put in place some basic security requirements - turnstiles, closed circuit TV, etc - that they were legally meant to have in place over a year and a half ago. A couple of games without any gate money may give them the incentive to finally get the work done.
No one thinks the next few weeks are going to be easy (apart from the people selling pay-TV subscriptions) and no-one's pretending that these measures will mean an end to violence, but at least this week we've seen a definite step in the right direction. A belated one, perhaps, but a step nonetheless. "
Source: Guardian Unlimited Sport Blog
" Wave goodbye for now to your landmarks of the Italian game. The San Siro is closed, the San Paolo in Naples too. Anyone carrying flares or bangers anywhere near a stadium anytime near a match faces up to four years in jail. Night-time games are a thing of the past, and travelling fans too. And Catania will be playing the rest of their season a long, long way away from their now infamous Cibali Stadium.
These are just a few of the new measures awaiting Calcio as it struggles back to its feet, and after last weekend's violence few can doubt the need for change. What happened at the Cibali was an authentic ambush. When the police arrived escorting the visiting Palermo fans, the Ultras attacked using some of the close to 100 homemade bombs they'd amassed in the stadium, apparently with the help of a sympathetic caretaker. Broken sinks, pipes and a scooter were also hurled at the officers. One policeman narrowly escaped with his life; another was not so fortunate.
Catania v Palermo will take Calcio a long time to recover from, yet had it not been for the fact that an officer died at a top-level game - had he, say, merely been injured like countless others before - the game and the accompanying riot wouldn't have caused much fuss in Italy. Scenes like these are not uncommon. Witness the fact that last Friday's match actually began with a minute's silence in memory of a man kicked to death during a violent row at a non-league match just five days before.
Violence has been a growing problem around Italian matches for years, quietly accepted by clubs, authorities and fans (and by columnists like myself, too) as an inevitable part of the game. The blame for this is generally laid at the door of the Ultras, the hardcore fans. Whilst they are by no means bad by definition - many are simply passionate but peaceful supporters - these groups have provided a valuable mantle of anonymity to many violent fans.
For years it has seemed that there was nothing the Ultras couldn't get away with. They've attacked referees for unpopular decisions, and 'disciplined' players for poor performances. They've invaded training grounds, demanded and won crisis talks with players and even had matches called off. Remember the Rome derby three years ago? The sight of a meek Francesco Totti being beckoned by two Ultra chiefs over to the Curva Sud to hear their demands was a useful snapshot of how unwilling this sport has been to confront its most dangerous fans.
Why? Because otherwise, the theory went, they might cause even more trouble. In the Curvas, with tens of thousands of fans packed in together and only a few narrow points of access, Italian police dared not tread. "It would have been considered an act of war," explains one officer, a veteran of the Catania riot. As a result, Ultras have been free to do largely as they pleased: smoke a joint, throw a flare, lob a burning scooter, all outside police jurisdiction. "That's another country in there, outside the Italian Republic," the policeman bitterly concludes.
As for the clubs, faced with heavy fines if the Ultras act up in the stadium, they too have gone to great lengths to keep on their good side. Journalists in Milan tell of the Rossoneri's last scudetto celebrations, where, despite being banned from entering the stadium, one of Milan's most infamous capitofosi was seated at the table next to Silvio Berlusconi. Such attention is not unusual: free air travel, season tickets and financial contributions have all been passed on to these most volatile supporters.
For the Ultras, this is a valuable source of income, and woe betide anyone who disrupts it: the Lazio president Claudio Lotito now travels with an armed guard after cutting his club's ties to these fans, while Milanese police put the recent shooting of a capitifoso down to the battle for control of club favours.
However, there are now signs of a change. This week's measures are specifically aimed at rolling back the Ultras' power after years of appeasement. Aside from a ban on contact between Ultras and clubs, there's the ban on groups of travelling fans and steeper penalties for any form of attack on the police. Many law-abiding Ultras will feel themselves demonised by the restrictions, which will change the landscape of the Italian game; the Ultras' colourful flares and pre-game choreography have long been part of Serie A's attraction. But compared to the ongoing tragedy that came to a head last Friday, it's all a price worth paying.
Meanwhile, the decision to force clubs whose stadiums don't meet security requirements - 14 of the 20 Serie A sides - to play behind closed doors has provoked a storm of protest from the league itself. Napoli's owner calls it "fascist", while Atalanta's owner says he "can't rule out' a strike by the clubs themselves". "If three clubs play with their crowds behind them, and the others don't, it'll make the championship unfair," points out Gennaro Gattuso of Milan, one of the teams affected. It's a fair point, but bear in mind that all the clubs are being asked to do is put in place some basic security requirements - turnstiles, closed circuit TV, etc - that they were legally meant to have in place over a year and a half ago. A couple of games without any gate money may give them the incentive to finally get the work done.
No one thinks the next few weeks are going to be easy (apart from the people selling pay-TV subscriptions) and no-one's pretending that these measures will mean an end to violence, but at least this week we've seen a definite step in the right direction. A belated one, perhaps, but a step nonetheless. "
Source: Guardian Unlimited Sport Blog
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