Low Life

3 May 2008

Battle stories

I couldn’t get a ticket. Not that that should have been a factor in my decision to stay at home. What was it like? I said to Cass. ‘Well, it all depends whether you went out there for the battle or not,’ he said. ‘Those that did said it was like Christmas. Ordinary fans were terrified.’

There was continuous street fighting in the 24 hours leading up to the match. In the midst of it, Cass arranged an interview with one of Palermo’s leading ‘ultras’ for a book he is compiling about international hooligans. A car met him beside the Teatro Massimo and he was driven to a secret destination, which turned out to be a bar in an old part of town. Some ‘ultras’ were in hospital and Cass was unsure of how he’d be received. Their top ultra had a couple of henchmen with him: ugly-looking customers, said Cass. ‘But do you know what their first question was? How much ICF memorabilia — hats, T-shirts, and so on — could I let them have? They were really impressed with us.’

After the game, the West Ham fans who were arrested were fined and sent home. Those who couldn’t pay were ordered to make a public apology instead. Those refusing to apologise were kept in jail for several weeks. One or two ex-ICF members privately admitted that Palermo had made them realise that they were getting far too old for that kind of thing.

Palermo beat West Ham at football and in the next round they drew Newcastle. The ultras couldn’t believe their luck. Two famous English clubs visiting Palermo in successive rounds. So imagine their disappointment, said Cass, when the Geordie Boys didn’t turn up. About 50 made the journey, he said, and when approached in a bar by the ultras and challenged to a fight, they answered that they only wanted to be friends! Cass thinks this the funniest thing ever. His Christmas card last year was a photograph of West Ham supporters filling the away end at Palermo, next to a photo of a few Newcastle fans not filling theirs.

As he and his family stood up to leave, a wasp flew into the room. His wife and his son’s girl quailed in alarm. Cass casually picked it up and crushed it between finger and thumb. ‘He won’t be renewing his season ticket this year,’ he said.