It's nearly six months late, but here's my take on Northern Ireland's rather bizarre trip to Serbia. It's an early, diary style draft of an article which appeared in Four Four Two magazine.
They’ve
become known simply as ‘The 200’. A
group of Northern Ireland fans determined to defy security warnings and a UEFA
edict in order to attend their country’s Euro 2012 qualifier in Serbia.
It’s 1.15pm
on Friday 25th March and FourFourTwo dashes across Budapest airport
on a mission to join these steely souls.
I reach the gate just as it closes and collapse in a sweaty, panting
heap on the connecting flight. Next stop
Belgrade - home of the most feared football hooligans in Europe.
Violence at
Serbia’s last qualifying match in Italy led UEFA to rule that the game against
Northern Ireland at Red Star’s ’Marakana’ Stadium should take place behind
closed doors. After protests from the
Irish Football Association (IFA) the authorities grudgingly agreed to admit
travelling fans who booked their trips prior to the ruling.
There is
speculation in the Northern Irish press that Serb Ultras aren’t happy and
intend to wreak revenge on visiting supporters.
FFT peaks out the aircraft window and sips a drink. Let Operation ‘Certain Death’ begin!
Friday
25th March, 4.15 pm:
Three hours
later and the pace has slackened, with FFT’s taxi stuck in Belgrade Friday
afternoon gridlock. “There is a
problem”, explains the driver, “you bombed our bridges”. The passengers protest their innocence. “Nato destroyed the bridges”, the Serb
admonishes, “now the traffic is bad“.
Just twelve
years ago Serbia was bombarded from the air by the west. Our visit coincides with the anniversary of
Nato’s intervention in the Kosovo War.
No wonder some Serbs are a little touchy! We decide it’s quicker to walk.
We’re en
route to the Intercontinental Hotel, headquarters for the Northern Ireland
squad and IFA officials. There we will
be given match tickets and hush-hush details of a pre-game meeting point. Serbian police will ensure our safety before
a convoy of buses leaves for the ground.
An
atmosphere of caution and secrecy has shrouded all the arrangements for this
match. In October Northern Ireland fans’
travel plans were plunged into chaos after hooligans rioted in Genoa and UEFA
handed Serbia a supporters’ ban for its next qualifier. The IFA sought refunds for fans who had
already shelled out money, but it quickly became apparent that many of the
‘Green and White Army’ intended to travel to Belgrade anyway. The Association and supporters’
representatives changed tack and lobbied UEFA to reverse Serbia‘s punishment.
Eventually
the authorities decided that a small number of Northern Ireland fans could
attend the game after all, but Serbs would still be locked out. It was a reluctant concession. UEFA even
offered free tickets to the Europa League final in Dublin, to tempt potential
travellers not to make the trip. Northern Ireland supporters are made from
sterner stuff than that. The vast
majority chose to stick with their original plans and two months later they’re
forming an orderly queue for tickets.
They number just over 240, with UEFA revising its estimate of 200 upwards
to accommodate all but a small handful who booked after the deadline.
Kristijan
has travelled from Macedonia to meet supporters from the internet forum ’Our
Wee Country’ (OWC). He explains that the
notorious Serb warlord Arkan was gunned down right here in the
Intercontinental’s lobby, back in 2000.
The Red Star fanatic recruited many members of his Tigers paramilitary
group from among the club‘s hooligan element.
They subsequently became notorious for their brutality during the war in
Bosnia.
A sobering
thought and another reminder of Serbia’s troubled recent history.
5.30pm:
Back in
central Belgrade things are relaxed.
Most Northern Ireland supporters ignore warnings to keep their colours
hidden. This isn’t a typical away trip
though. The Green and White Army likes
to gather en masse in a city centre square to drink and meet locals, but today
small groups hurry to bars and keep things low key.
FFT joins
one set of supporters in Bar Red on Skadarlija, a Bohemian street in the heart
of old Belgrade. Two policemen sit
inside watchfully, resisting fans’ attempts to buy them beer. It seems to be an unnecessary precaution,
because the Northern Ireland contingent are getting on famously with
locals. A TV crew stops to interview
travelling fans and ply them with slivovitz, the local plum brandy. They film Gordon McKeown from Portadown
downing a shot and turning an alarming shade of purple. “It’s an interesting mix of flavours”, he
concludes diplomatically.
We chat to
a group of Montenegrin Serbs who describe themselves as ‘Ultras’. They’re miffed to be locked out of the game
but they take our banter in good part. A
drunk guy at the bar is going to attend.
He describes himself as a journalist and pulls out a sheaf of press
passes. “Are you working?” asks an
incredulous FFT. Apparently so. That’s one match report which should be worth
reading!
7pm:
Supporters
in University Square board a fleet of buses.
Access is strictly ticket only and a burly security guard frisks
passengers for bottles or cans. For an
hour or so fans have gathered in the square, mingling with early evening
commuters and surrounded by heavily armed police.
The convoy
jolts into motion, flanked by motorcycle outriders with sirens wailing. Each junction is manned by traffic policemen
to ensure that there are no delays. An
occasional passer-by waves or makes a thumbs down gesture but it’s hardly
’welcome to hell’ stuff.
FFT asks
Marty Lowry, owner of the OWC forum, about his experience in Belgrade so
far. “It’s been great”, he confirms,
“everyone’s been exceptionally friendly, though the local supporters like to
tell some hair-raising tales”.
“We visited
the two main club grounds yesterday, which are less than a mile apart. We bought some souvenirs at the Red Star shop
and the staff warned us to keep our bags well hidden if we were walking
anywhere near Partizan.”
The
‘Eternal Derby’ between Red Star and Partizan Belgrade is one of the most
fiercely contested in world football.
Marty clutches a bunch of white tulips in an obscure tribute to
Partizan. FFT doesn’t accept the offer
of a flower to carry into the Red Star Stadium!
Our bus
pulls up outside the ground amid a media scrum.
Disembarking Northern Ireland supporters are met by rows of armed police
in body armour and, with every conceivable access route closely guarded, there
are more officers than spectators. There
isn’t a Serb fan in sight and photographers scramble to snap partying
supporters beside frowning policemen.
For riot police these guys are pretty tolerant though and they don‘t
complain as 240 fans crowd round to jostle for photographs. A familiar face, Gerry Armstrong, hero of Northern
Ireland’s 1982 World Cup squad, looks on with bewilderment.
8.15pm:
The last
few supporters pass through security after a long and occasionally ill-tempered
wait. The novelty of the searches has
long since worn off and a UEFA delegate chivvies the stewards along. A rigorous
frisk is followed by a once over with a metal detector. Supporters ditch little mounds of coins which
are eagerly snapped up by some Serb children who have slipped through the ranks
of policemen.
Inside the
Marakana Stadium FFT takes in a surreal scene.
The Northern Ireland contingent is housed in Red Star’s VIP section, a
phenomenal distance from the pitch.
Green and White foot-soldiers lounge in enormous, cinema style chairs
facing a row of security guards. The
rest of the 53,000 seat arena is empty - save for a packed press gallery (just
imagine how it might look whenever West Ham moves to the Olympic
Stadium).
Northern
Ireland supporters have a boisterous reputation and as kick off approaches they
do their best to create an atmosphere.
In this cavernous stadium, though, it feels like their chants simply
drift off into the chilly Belgrade night.
When the
teams line up and Northern Ireland’s anthem is played over the PA there is a
palpable sense of relief. Early arrivals
witnessed a rehearsal where the Republic of Ireland’s anthem was played
instead!
9.10pm
Mayhem in
the VIP section as Gareth McAuley connects with Chris Brunt’s free kick to head
the opening goal. It’s Northern
Ireland’s first first-half strike in two years and the fans are almost in
raptures again when Kyle Lafferty squanders a glorious opportunity to nick a
second.
Munching a
choc ice in the bar at half-time, Richard Oliver from Ballymena is
apprehensive, despite the score-line.
“Knowing Nigel Worthington (the Northern Ireland manager) he’ll try to
shut up shop. There’s a long 45 minutes
ahead”, he warns FFT. It’s a prophetic
analysis. The fans become frustrated
after the interval, as Northern Ireland drop deeper and deeper. “Attack, attack, attack!”, becomes the most
frequent chant, replacing, “shall we sing a song for you”, and, “big ground, no
fans”.
When the
equaliser finally comes, the press gallery, which tonight contains more than
100 “accredited journalists“, explodes with delight. The Serbs’ second is inevitable and it’s
greeted with delirium by a small group of bus drivers in our section. The Green and White Army belt out “2-1 and
you still don’t sing”, but on this occasion there is a riposte. “Serbia! Serbia!”, ventures a lone driver.
Usually
stoical in defeat the Northern Ireland supporters feel that Worthington’s negative
tactics are to blame. Kenny Armstrong
from Ballymena asks why Celtic’s “Derry Pele” Pat McCourt is not
introduced. “The game’s crying out for
his creativity”.
The match
limps to a close and Northern Ireland are beaten 2-1. Dejected fans muster a final roar for their
heroes who respond with applause. The
Serb team also comes over to wave and receive an ovation from Northern Ireland
supporters. It’s a nice touch.
In normal
circumstances there would be a lengthy wait for home fans to vacate the stadium
but tonight it’s straight back unto the buses for another police escort. The streets are quiet, without any sign of
celebrating Serb fans. Back at Bar Red,
though, our Montenegrin friends are triumphant. “Even without any fans, Serbia
wins. UEFA will be disappointed - they
punish our supporters, but we win anyway“.
They feel that their team has prevailed, despite an unfair
disadvantage.
Saturday
27th March, 11am:
At Republic
Square, in Belgrade City Centre, FFT contemplates the previous day with fellow
Northern Ireland fans.
After all
the horror stories, Serbia has confounded expectations. There’s disappointment about the result but
overwhelmingly everyone’s impressions are positive. The principal regret is that home fans
weren’t there to complete a memorable experience. “Can you imagine 50,000 Serbs in that
stadium”, enthuses Gavin Nixon from Belfast, “the atmosphere would be
incredible”.
Last night
green and white were the prevalent colours but this morning it’s just
green. A small group protests against
Nato’s action in Libya, waving posters of Muammar Gadaffi, who provided aid to
Serbia after it was bombed in the late 1990s. They’re particularly keen to hand
out green Libyan flags to tourists. It’s
a fitting image. Belgrade has proved
welcoming, exciting and, contrary to its reputation, surprisingly beautiful,
but history and politics are never far away.
A guide arrives to conduct a walking tour featuring
bomb damaged buildings and murals which are guarded night and day by Partizan
Ultras. Belgrade’s attractions are never
conventional! Members of the Green and
White Army shuffle along behind, nursing hangovers, but hoping to visit Serbia
again sooner rather than later.