Authorities must look to England if they want to rescue their national sport from the gutter. 'We have to learn from the English,' cry frustrated Italian commentators each time the face of calcio is scarred by an outbreak of violence. 'If they can solve their hooligan problem, why can't we?'
The similarities between Italy today and the violent dog days of the 1980s in England are striking: antiquated and dirty stadiums, no-go areas for police, inept sports authorities and dithering government ministers. But one key element makes the problem - and therefore any solution - different: the ultras
The ultras - the extreme - are the most diehard followers who proudly sport the tag as a sign of their loyalty, be it to big-name Serie A clubs or to semi-professional squads in Serie D. In the top division, Internazionale, Milan and Roma have the biggest groups of ultras, while the most violent tend to be from medium-size clubs, such as Catania and Livorno.
Most card-carrying members are in their late teens or twenties, but many are in their thirties and forties. Most are male. Each group occupies a strictly delineated area of the curva - kop - usually behind the goal, displaying flags that often boast names from 1970s political urban violence - Brigatte, Commandos - although few now have political allegiances. Most ultra groups are not hooligans, but many are. Some are run as profitable commercial enterprises, often led by capi - bosses - made up of middle-aged men for whom it is a full-time job.
The violent minority hide among the majority, but after Friday's killing of a policeman at the match involving Catania and Palermo - a crime for which the ultras are likely to be blamed - Renzo Uliviero, chairman of the Italian federation of coaches, said: 'There aren't just a few of them, there are many. They are organised. They go to the stadiums to attack the police. Until we accept that fact then we really won't get anywhere.'
Uliviero should know. He once had to face down an ultras invasion of one of his training sessions. Unlike British football, almost all Italian stadiums are owned by local authorities, prompting much buck-passing when things go wrong. Alarmingly, two thirds of Italian grounds fail to meet safety standards, but clubs obtain 'temporary' safety certificates on a weekly basis.
Italian club chairmen routinely condemn ultra excesses, but in private they collude with the capi, often using them as unofficial ticketing agencies for some of the biggest fixtures in European football. Some clubs collude through fear - ultras have been known to invade post-match changing rooms when results are bad.
Ultras traditionally raise funds from charging membership subscriptions, with larger groups producing branded merchandise and taking 'commission' on ticket sales. The key to the ultras is their organisation, which is what makes possible the wonderful match-day choreography that dwarfs anything seen in England. Giant banners and flags are prepared at ultras-run bars or social clubs. But the same organisation and hierarchy is also what makes large-scale violence possible.
Four Leeds fans were put in hospital with stab wounds on the club's last visit to Milan, in 2000. Local ultra leaders said that it took a couple of phone calls to put 50 of their people on the streets before the police knew what was going on. The 'punitive expedition' was in response to damage caused to an ultra bar.
Inside stadiums, where stewards are often ultra members, anyone entering the 'wrong' zone risks attack and groups following the same club sometimes clash. Last season, one group of Milan ultras was banned by the rest from the curva because of a disagreement over how to deal with Juventus ultras.
The curva is a no-go area for the Italian police, who are poorly trained. Most earn less than €2,000 (about £1,300) a month. The country's World Cup win last summer showed that on the pitch Italy has learnt the game better than its English inventors. But Friday's grotesque violence shows how it must also urgently learn from the English how to transform the game off the pitch, or this temporary shutdown may become permanent.
By Kevin Buckley in Milan
The similarities between Italy today and the violent dog days of the 1980s in England are striking: antiquated and dirty stadiums, no-go areas for police, inept sports authorities and dithering government ministers. But one key element makes the problem - and therefore any solution - different: the ultras
The ultras - the extreme - are the most diehard followers who proudly sport the tag as a sign of their loyalty, be it to big-name Serie A clubs or to semi-professional squads in Serie D. In the top division, Internazionale, Milan and Roma have the biggest groups of ultras, while the most violent tend to be from medium-size clubs, such as Catania and Livorno.
Most card-carrying members are in their late teens or twenties, but many are in their thirties and forties. Most are male. Each group occupies a strictly delineated area of the curva - kop - usually behind the goal, displaying flags that often boast names from 1970s political urban violence - Brigatte, Commandos - although few now have political allegiances. Most ultra groups are not hooligans, but many are. Some are run as profitable commercial enterprises, often led by capi - bosses - made up of middle-aged men for whom it is a full-time job.
The violent minority hide among the majority, but after Friday's killing of a policeman at the match involving Catania and Palermo - a crime for which the ultras are likely to be blamed - Renzo Uliviero, chairman of the Italian federation of coaches, said: 'There aren't just a few of them, there are many. They are organised. They go to the stadiums to attack the police. Until we accept that fact then we really won't get anywhere.'
Uliviero should know. He once had to face down an ultras invasion of one of his training sessions. Unlike British football, almost all Italian stadiums are owned by local authorities, prompting much buck-passing when things go wrong. Alarmingly, two thirds of Italian grounds fail to meet safety standards, but clubs obtain 'temporary' safety certificates on a weekly basis.
Italian club chairmen routinely condemn ultra excesses, but in private they collude with the capi, often using them as unofficial ticketing agencies for some of the biggest fixtures in European football. Some clubs collude through fear - ultras have been known to invade post-match changing rooms when results are bad.
Ultras traditionally raise funds from charging membership subscriptions, with larger groups producing branded merchandise and taking 'commission' on ticket sales. The key to the ultras is their organisation, which is what makes possible the wonderful match-day choreography that dwarfs anything seen in England. Giant banners and flags are prepared at ultras-run bars or social clubs. But the same organisation and hierarchy is also what makes large-scale violence possible.
Four Leeds fans were put in hospital with stab wounds on the club's last visit to Milan, in 2000. Local ultra leaders said that it took a couple of phone calls to put 50 of their people on the streets before the police knew what was going on. The 'punitive expedition' was in response to damage caused to an ultra bar.
Inside stadiums, where stewards are often ultra members, anyone entering the 'wrong' zone risks attack and groups following the same club sometimes clash. Last season, one group of Milan ultras was banned by the rest from the curva because of a disagreement over how to deal with Juventus ultras.
The curva is a no-go area for the Italian police, who are poorly trained. Most earn less than €2,000 (about £1,300) a month. The country's World Cup win last summer showed that on the pitch Italy has learnt the game better than its English inventors. But Friday's grotesque violence shows how it must also urgently learn from the English how to transform the game off the pitch, or this temporary shutdown may become permanent.
By Kevin Buckley in Milan
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