Category: Communication

One Stadium, One Heart

I’ve just arrived at one of the most sacred grounds in Europe for a once in a lifetime experience. The “Marakana”, also known as Stadion Rajko Mitic, is being graced for one of the most passionate and explosive derbies in world football. This is Serbia. This is Red Star vs Partizan. Welcome to Belgrade. The stadium holds 55,000 spectators (though it once had an unbelievable record attendance of 117,000 spectators in 1975). It is the largest stadium in Serbia and undoubtedly the best.

A few hours before kick-off I leave early to grab a seat before the action begins. The streets are already littered with fans. Chants and flares are being let off before I even arrive. I can already tell the atmosphere is going to be fantastic. As I enter the stadium the echoes of chants rocket back and forth. I walk anxiously to my seat. To my surprise, there are already thousands of people planted at each end of the stadium. Both sets of fans are on opposite sides. The north and south ends are occupied by the hard core supporters of each club.

As I watch on I realize that the hatred and passion is reaching boiling point as kick off begins. Flares are being launched and they fly like eagles to each end of the stadium. BOOM! TING! A huge flash of light comes surging onto the pitch revealing a spectacular view of lurid green grass and the enormous stadium itself. It’s something you can only experience if you are there. No words can describe this beauty.

Suddenly the hard core fans of Red Star “Delije”, translated in English as ‘Legion’, begin waving thousands of huge flags, the massive unified movement making it seem like a single ocean wave. Over on the north end, the hard core Partizan fans, also known as “Grobari”, are trying to cause chaos. The stands are set on fire and the emergency services are called, however the Partizan fans stand in front of the water hoses locking arms and chanting. Loud roars ricochet like rockets from each end.

I am completely carried away on a rising tide of Red Star passion. Suddenly the Red Star team walk out and an ear splitting chant begins. However, when the Partizan team come out boos ring around the stadium like a chorus of sirens. Then unexpectedly a blast of sound comes from a speaker ordering the Red Star fans to link arms. As I do so the microphone orders everyone to bounce. On a signal we all bounce as one. It feels like the seats are going to shatter and the concrete crumble: the entire stadium heaves up and down like a trampoline for a few glorious minutes. Every fan’s face is etched with anxiety.

Kick off begins and instantly thousands of red and white flares are raised. I am blinded by light. Fans disappear into the smoke like ghosts. Once the first mass of flares dies down they are instantly reignited, sparking a second brain blinding surge of light.

The chants seem to go on forever and each and every fan sings along with bursting pride trying everything to gain their team an advantage. These aren’t just seven or eight chants like the Borrusia Dortmund vs Shalke match. They are hundreds of chants that reverberate all the way through till the last second. Smoke rises into the air and settles over the stadium. Suddenly Red Star nets their first goal with a powering header. The stadium erupts. Each fan leaps out of their seat with joy and screams their lungs out. The Red Star side raise their hands and unite, one single chant silencing the away fans. Whoever wins this match returns as the King of Belgrade…. till the next match.

However, Partizan fans are still looking for revenge. Furiously they fire flares into the Red Star stands. Straight away chairs and flares are hurled from one side of the stadium to another. The police are quick to react and break up the fights via riot squads. Moving into the last seconds of the game, there is a sudden stalemate. Looking down onto the pitch the grass is churned into a mountain of mud from all the vicious tackles taking place. The smell of the mud hung heavy in the air.

It’s the dying seconds. Partizan has the ball. It should be an easy finish. Somehow out of nowhere the Red Star keeper pulls off an astonishing save as he leaps into the air like a demented acrobat. The rapturous fans chant his name over and over again. He kisses the badge on his shirt. The game ends: both teams look drained and exhausted. All of a sudden the Red star team are clustered up by the stands, singing songs of their victory alongside the fans.

I finally know that Red Star isn’t just a football club – it’s a family.

Dear Mrs Hopkins,

I came across your article and found the way you are writing about people trying to flee a country torn by war very insulting. You use offensive language such as “cockroaches” to describe them: in fact has it ever occurred to you how many people believe you are the “cockroach”? In your article you said that we need a tougher approach on migrants, however what you are suggesting is meeting violence with violence. This shows that your knowledge does not stretch far, and neither does your compassion as a human. Additionally, I note that with this article you are promoting racial hatred which again proves your lack of education and empathy.

In the next few sentences you mention some more harsh words such as, “aggressive young men at Calais spreading like norovirus on a cruise ship”. They are not “aggressive” but struggling and hustling to get a better life for themselves where they may have a chance of being free to live a life without being oppressed or manipulated to believe in something they do not want to. What you must understand is that as migrants they hope and believe that by moving away from all that violence,terror and war it will give them a better chance of survival. This includes a better life which will enable them to do things we “British” take for granted. For example things like education,food and shelter were unavailable to them while the war was raging on. Has it ever crossed your mind that the very clothes you buy and the food you put in your mouth all come from different countries? Or has that just bypassed your comprehension?

You claim that, “Watching them try to clamber on to British lorries and steal their way into the UK, do I feel pity? Only for the British drivers, who get hit with a fine every time one of this plague of feral humans ends up in their truck”. You forget that some of these British lorries that accept migrants actually do it for money. Furthermore I do not feel pity for the driver as it is his choice as to whether he wants to take the risk and jeopardise his job. Additionally, you again launch an offensive attack upon the migrants, calling them “feral humans” and “plague”. How does “feral” equate with the plight of people who are desperate to achieve something that will secure their safety into a better life? Would you not do the same? It would be interesting to see you in their shoes, just to see if you would be able to do what these truly desperate and brave people are doing to survive.

In conclusion, I hope by reading this letter I will be able to appeal to your sense of empathy and compassion. We as the people of Britain have to be grateful for the blessed opportunity to live in a democratic society which is not engulfed in war. As humans we should stand by each other and try to help those less fortunate than us. This can be done through the promotion of articles which would encourage the reader to help and to make a small but valuable difference in an ongoing battle. The mentality of “we should not care as it is not our problem” is narrow minded. if we start to care we might in turn make a difference and, yes, maybe we might not stop an entire war but we might help save some lives. After all, the article which you wrote was most likely written with the aid of an Apple computer. Need I remind you that Steve Jobs was the son of Syrian migrants? So in turn we owe these people so much more than you think.

Kindest Regards,

Milos Petrovic