Calcio: Italian for Anarchy

Soccer like no other sport. Attending matches in Italy has further confirmed my stance that soccer is by far the most amazing sport. I was lucky to get to attend the Serie A match between Juventus and AS Roma. For those of you who do not understand, this is a great rivalry. I conveniently took a group of classmates, many of which had no clue what they were getting into despite my repeated emails about the severity of what we were going to see. I located us in the section adjacent to the visiting fans and informed everyone not to wear black and white (the colors of Juventus). They listened to me and were glad they did. Hearing 88,000 fans singing in the AS Roma song in unison is one of the most intimidating and spine tingling sensations I have experienced. Things started off pretty well, we sat in our area, specific seats are not respected, and noted riot police on both sides of the plexi-glass wall maintaining an increased buffer between us and the unruly visitors. The key to surviving any soccer match is to watch the game and to react like the people around you. So when a bad call is made, you thrust your right hand in the air and yell. But all hell can break lose when one passionate Roma fan lobs a firework into the seats of the visitors. They didn't see it coming. BANG...like a bomb going off. There was a moment of calm shock, the fear on their faces quickly eroding into hateful scowls. And then it is on like Donkey Kong Bitch. A barrage of missiles...small tubes of coffee, plastic beer and coke bottles, come raining down on you. Somehow sitting in a modern stadium at this moment seems like you are participating in a medieval castle siege. The key to safety is reaction. Needless to say after some exchanges of vulgarities and obscene gestures we collect their objects and return the volley. The entire time the riot police do nothing. Fantastic. The battle continues as does the match, although for safety reasons I am unable to comment on the specifics of the match. As the battle appears to be reaching a crescendo, Juventus like a good general, rallies their troops. They score a solid goal. Now the Roma fans are even more upset and as the game heads to halftime, they have 15 minutes with no distractions to express their anger. The battle surges, the vendors eagerly resupply the mercenaries at the bargain price of 5 euro per missile. At this point the beverages are not being consumed and the vendors are not removing the tops. In other words full bottles of coke and beer are being violently hurled. One explodes near us enveloping Ian and I in sticky shrapnel to the cheers of the Juventus fans. We return fire, deliberately selecting our targets, this time throwing coins. They hurt more and are impossible to see. I know this from personal experience. Our whole unit of 20 is engaged in the battle. A couple of our troops cower from the onslaught requiring the consoling of the team mother. War brings out the worst in people. At some point the game resumes and Juventus scores three quick goals. With the soccer game secured for the visitors, all the home side can do now is beat them in the stands. Any shred of control is lost, seats are being ripped up and thrown like frisbees across the wall. The police constantly fall victim to misfires. Exploding bombs. Eventually, the police determine something must be done. As one officer on the Juventus side is struck with a seat, they surge, clubs in the air, face guards down, and shields up. The visitors are compressed into an area 1/3 of the original. People are stampeded, trampled, and beaten. Beaten like step-children. Tag team, club weilding, third-world beating. The surge of course encourages the Roma fans. They cheer and thrown with more conviction as a good home town ass-kicking is on. Order is restored, but not before many bloodied faces and bombs are delivered. Unconscience spectators are drug from the battle field. The game ends and both sides of riot police move in to separate the fans and to get the home crowd out of the stadium. The visitors cheering loudly, so we throw more. One of us is nearly beaten by the military police who have now reinforced both lines. We walk out saddened by our teams outcome, but raging with adrenaline. Somehow being able to unleash my frustration for this country by throwing projectiles at random Italians is soothing. I went back for more the next Sunday. What a great game.