Football fights

I was very happy to see my old friend Charlie.  We had both arrived in Hong Kong around the same time as one another, but he had sadly left to go back to the UK a couple of years ago.  With the time I had before the start of my work engagements, I thought it was the perfect time to go and visit him up North.  He was excited, but then suddenly concerned about whether we could actually arrange it.  He had already arranged to go to a football game with his old friends in Sheffield the same day that I arrived.  Would it be possible for us to actually catch up?  What would I do about my bags?  We thought about it and I started researching.  After a bit of thought, I told him to book my ticket.  I worked out that I could drop my bags at a nearby hotel.  Arriving in Sheffield, I immediately caught a cab to the hotel, dropped off my bags and within half an hour, I was happily in the pub with Charlie and his friends drinking a beer.  It felt strange to be in this very foreign place with someone I knew so well.  I had the lovely feeling of the unknown that I enjoyed so much when I visited somewhere new, yet it was all still something familiar given my upbringing in the Anglo-Saxon world.  I was behind the others who had been drinking for hours, but the game was about to start.  We finished off our beers and we made our way with the crowds towards the famous Bramall Lane.  This was a proper old fashioned English football stadium.  Even the lead up and walk to the stadium was an experience.  I was with Charlie and his friends, supporting Blackpool.  But the local team today was Sheffield United.  The different pubs in the area had all been assigned to the different teams, and there was no mixing allowed.  As the crowds congregated towards the stadium, so did the police presence.  It was all a positive feeling in the air so far, but there was clearly a concern and worry that things could take a more nasty turn at any point.

Once inside the stadium and seated, there was no more drinking.  There is apparently a rule in the UK that there is a no drinking if you are within "sight" of the pitch.  It created a strange situation of people crowding at the bars in the concourse of the stadium, but with large sections of ground marked at as not being permitted for drinking given they offered a glimpse of the pitch.  I stood with my friends and watched the game.  Being part of an English football crowd is an experience that all should have.  With the singing and cheering, it captures you and drags you along.  The game itself was also one to be remembered.  The home team quickly went up 2-0, yet somehow Blackpool managed to pull back to 2-2 by half time.  We went to get drinks and managed to get back to our seats after half time just as Blackpool pulled ahead to 3-2.  It was around now that mayhem started to breakout.  Blackpool managed to get two players sent off.  For the rest of the half, they battled 9 men against 11 as Sheffield launched wave after wave of attack.  Close to the end of regular time, a penalty was awarded to Sheffield.  This was surely the equaliser, and yet I stood and watched from behind the goal as the Sheffield player struck poorly and hit the post.  At this point, all that was left was for the referee to blow the whistle and still this didn't happen.  Eight minutes of extra time were declared, a truly unbelievable amount of time.  Blackpool continued to hold on, but in the very final minute, their hearts were broken as Sheffield managed to get the equaliser they had been searching for.  It felt unfair and didn't seem to reflect the task that Blackpool had achieved.  But that's the nature of sports.

At this point, I thought that the game was finally done.  I was very wrong, as the players decided on the pitch that they were very unhappy with what happened.  The Sheffield goalkeeper tried to start a fight with a Blackpool player and both were shown red cards.  It had now been four red cards in this game.  The players were quickly separated before things escalated further and sent in different directions.  This seemed to drive up the anger in the crowd.  The screaming and insults were being thrown between the fans and when we left the stadium, it seemed that fights were breaking out around the ground.  One of Charlie's friends was separated from us, and we later found him after some Sheffield fans had tried to attack him.  There's fun and passion, but then there's also too far.  This Europeans love of football definitely goes touch too far. It is a strange regression to the primal that belies any reputation of Europe's supposed cultural progress and superiority.

With everyone back together again, we headed towards the train station.  None of the group was from Sheffield, so everyone was jumping on different trains to head home.  Inside the station was a beautiful old Victorian pub.  For those living in the UK, this was nothing out of the ordinary.  For me, the sight of these historic old pubs was always fascinating.  They seemed to maintain a community for those in the area as well as providing a warm place for people like us to shelter and drink before our trains.

Soon enough, it was time for us to go.  We said our goodbyes and we boarded our train for Leeds.