This book is dedicated to the people I met along the way and their incredible passion for a game called football. And to my dad Charlie, who lit the spark by taking me to watch him play in the Irlam v Urmston cup derby in 1984.

‘By the 1980s, the rivalry had become vicious, with United’s Scouse manager Ron Atkinson describing a trip to Anfield as like going into Vietnam. Big Ron’s experience fighting the Viet Cong has not been fully substantiated, but he can be forgiven for exaggerating – he had just been tear gassed.’ Liverpool v Manchester United

‘Ian Ramsey began supporting The Shire “to be different from my mates. I wanted to support the least fashionable club.” He didn’t have to look far…to a club that gave 32-year-old Alex Ferguson his first managerial job in 1974. There were only eight registered players when Ferguson arrived. “They were the worst senior club in the country,” Ferguson later wrote.’ Elgin City v East Stirlingshire

‘Tyres are set ablaze, telephone booths vandalised, windows smashed, and anti-regime chants are heard across Tehran and Iran’s other cities…in a country where boys and girls fear holding hands in case the special morality police take them in or, worse, send them to a moral correction unit, football may not be enough to contain their passions.’ Iran v Iraq

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Dedication

Excerpt

Introduction

Seeing Red

‘Get Ready for a War’

The Ultimate Showdown

Tomorrow La Scala

The Mother of All Battles

The One That Got Away

‘Getting on with the Neighbours?’

More Than a Game

The Clasico

The Rivalry That Time Forgot

Battle of the Bosphorus

Unholy War

Pride of North London

On the Frontline

The Coldest Derby in the World

Love Island

Boys from the Black Country

Love and Hate

Birds of a Feather

The Colombian Connection

Dutch Courage

It’s Just Not Cricket

‘You’re Not Very Good’

Sheep Shaggers v Donkey Lashers

The Eternal War

Two Languages, Two Peoples…and Two Countries?

A Question of Ships and Coal

Life in the Glasgow Bubble

Acknowledgments

The Contributors

About the Publisher

Introduction

It was not a day too soon. When Manchester United took on Manchester City away in October 1986, I pestered my dad to take me. I was 12 years old. Dad wasn’t a lover of watching football, always preferring to play, but he finally relented and acquired three tickets for the main stand at Maine Road.

I devoured the pre-match hype in the Evening News and knew every player of both sides. It wasn’t a golden age for Manchester football and the attendance of 32,440 was then the lowest post-war for a derby, partly because the game was the first Manchester derby to be televised ‘live’. Before we left the house, mum again warned us to be careful as we went off to watch players like Graeme Hogg, Terry Gibson, John Sivebaek and Chris Turner. So much for United having the big name stars.

Dad parked the car near the stadium in Moss Side’s tight terraced streets. I was impressed, as he seemed to know all the ticket touts loitering outside the ground looking to do business. Most were black lads whom he’d played football with and against, a lot of them City fans who ribbed him about ‘being United’ and told him to watch his back as we were in a City section. They were joking, but the atmosphere was vicious outside Maine Road as fans scurried towards the relative safety of the turnstiles, the police moving everyone along to stop trouble erupting. Unlike our local home-town semi-professional derby involving Irlam and Urmston, the antagonism expressed in this derby was not born from social and economic differences but was generated by football. Both laid claim to be the top club in Manchester. City had for a long time been the most successful club; United’s first league and cup victories were achieved, according to City fans, through subterfuge when United took advantage of City’s misfortune to poach their best players for a pittance. And the list of United’s crimes against their neighbours went on from there. United fans gloried in their club’s far greater glamour and worldwide fame.

The game had an interesting twist as John Gidman, the Liverpudlian fullback, had left United days earlier. ‘I had bought a sports shop in Liverpool and honestly thought that I was going to run that for the rest of my life as I drove back to Liverpool,’ he recalls. Almost immediately, he received a phone call from Jimmy Frizzell, Manchester City’s manager.

‘Frizzell wanted to sign me. He said, “We’re playing United on television this weekend and I want you to play.” So I signed and I marked Peter Barnes. He told me to go easy, but you can’t do that. He was a great lad but a bit of a softie and I said: ‘I’m going to kick f**k out of you for 90 minutes.’ They took him off. It was nice for a Scouser to make an impact in the Manchester derby, although when I played at United we always considered Liverpool to be our biggest game.’

It still is, mainly because United’s players and supporters began to measure themselves, not against their ‘lowly’ Mancunian neighbour, but against the Scouse juggernaut which dominated English football and swaggered across Europe until Heysel. Derby rivalries often defy logic. Although Mancunians will tell you they despise Scousers for a whole set of other reasons, historical economic rivalries between the two cities being one, Everton versus Manchester United is rarely described as a derby, neither is Liverpool versus Manchester City.

When United scored, City hooligans stood upright like meerkats to spot any stray celebrating Reds. Dad told us to keep quiet. I couldn’t work out why people from the same city hated each other so much, but the buzz was indescribable. My fascination with derby games would only grow.

Twenty-one years later, I’m sitting opposite the Newcastle manager Kevin Keegan, who has just seen his side win the Tyne–Wear derby against rivals Sunderland. The vanquished visiting manager Roy Keane has just faced the press, but he doesn’t go for the sentimental, populist, touch. Unlike King Kev.

‘You don’t get an atmosphere like that anywhere else in the world,’ he says proudly. ‘You can go round the world twice and you won’t get that. Not in Liverpool, the Nepstadion, Budapest, the Maracana or at Boca Juniors. The derby match up here is very, very special.’

He’s playing the role of local hero well, but part of me wants to disagree. That’s because I’d been travelling to derby games around Europe for FourFourTwo magazine and this book for six years. I’d seen derbies where the atmosphere far exceeded that of the Tyne–Wear contest. I’d watched Corinthians play Sao Paulo in the Maracana and wanted to assure Keegan that the atmosphere was far more intense than St James’ Park. But I was there to listen, not speak.

Paulo Di Canio, who has played in five derbies, has his own candidates. ‘The Juventus–Torino rivalry has deep historical roots, while the Milan derby, Inter verses AC Milan, is probably the best in the world in terms of evenly-matched sides and sheer quality on the pitch,’ says Di Canio. ‘At West Ham, we played four or five local derbies a year, so perhaps it’s less of an event, but you knew when we played Arsenal, Chelsea or Spurs that we were totally fired up.’

Di Canio was adamant which two derbies stood out. ‘Apart from the Old Firm (Glasgow) which is far and away the biggest rivalry in all of sport, nothing compares to the Rome derby (between his former club Lazio and Roma). People begin talking about it six weeks in advance, the preparations being made with weeks to spare. The build up is huge, nothing else matters. Roma and Lazio fans care more about winning the derby than where they finish in the league.’

Di Canio, a one time Lazio Ultra, progressed from terrace to pitch, where he scored in the Rome derby. It’s a major reason why he is still revered today by the fans he once stood alongside.

Sir Alex Ferguson, though, begs to differ. ‘I have been to derby games all over the world…in Milan, Madrid, Rome, Liverpool and in London, plus, of course, from my old playing days I know all about the fierce rivalry between Rangers and Celtic. However it’s our fixtures against Liverpool that get my pulse racing and they are the games I look forward to more than any others. I regard our fixtures with Liverpool as more of a derby than our all-Manchester matches against City.’

Opinions differ widely on which derbies have the most meaning for supporters. Ask Blackpool fans and they’ll tell you that there is no game like when they meet Preston, just as I thought that my local Irlam v Urmston was a game of the utmost importance all those years ago.

Despite often loathing their enemies, fans talk proudly of their derby game – often because their appreciation of its importance is so subjective. While a trophy haul is tangible, the atmosphere at a game isn’t. Scientists don’t measure the noise levels and record the flag displays at games, leaving their impact and size open to exaggeration and debate. Fans of Barca and Madrid consider their clash to be the biggest in the world, yet fans at much smaller derby games deem ‘their’ derby much more authentic because it is more parochial and intense. ‘How can a Madrid player from South America possibly hate Barcelona with the same intensity as a Wrexham born player hates Chester?’ one Wrexham fan told me. ‘We’ve seen the posh tennis playing twats take our girls and our jobs. We’ve got genuine reasons to hate them.’

So while Cristiano Ronaldo may be a superior athlete to any player plying his trade in the Israeli league, Manchester United’s fans are not necessarily superior beings. Derbies give the fans of Hapoel Tel Aviv and Maccabi Tel Aviv a chance to demonstrate that they are more committed, more loyal because of the colour, noise and fervour they generate.

‘We are not as big as some of the European clubs,’ one Hapoel devotee told me in a bar next to Tel Aviv’s frequently bombed bus station, ‘but we have a much tighter and better organised fan culture. We are better fans and we demonstrate that against [our main rivals] Maccabi.’

Geography, history, sectarianism, class, religion and economics each play their part in shaping the unique nature of derby matches. Nor is there only one type of derby. The term needs some clarification, as it is used to widely different types of rivalries. Some wrongly assume that a derby was originally a cross-city match, the term originating in the East Midlands city of Derby, yet Derby County haven’t played a true derby since 1891 when they merged with the city’s only other major team, Derby Midland.

Derby fans consider the fixture with Nottingham Forest, who are based 15 miles away, their biggest game. And while Forest have their own cross-city derby with Notts County, they consider the game against Derby to be their main, well, derby.

The origins of the word ‘derby’ are derived from the horse race known as the Derby Stakes, which was first run in 1780 and named after Edward Stanley, the 12th Earl of Derby. It became established as the high point of the racing season as part of the meeting at Epsom in Surrey in early June. Such was its importance, other classic races were named after it, such as the Kentucky Derby.

Derby day, the day of the race – always a Wednesday until recently – became a hugely popular event, not just for the toffs but as a big day out for all Londoners, a public holiday in all but name. Great numbers of people drove or took the train down to Epsom, making a day of it with picnics and lots to drink. In 1906, George R. Sims wrote: ‘With the arrival of Derby Day we have touched the greatest day of all in London; it may almost be said to be the Londoners’ greatest holiday – their outing or saturnalia.’

Around the time George Sims was writing, the word moved into more general use to describe any highly popular and well-attended event. In particular, it came to be applied to a fixture between two local sides, first called a local Derby and then abbreviated. But it is used to describe football games between teams which may be situated far further apart, regional rather than local rivals.

The 28 games featured here are by no means definitive, but they are chosen because they demonstrate the incredible diversity of derbies, as well as the common elements they share. The Faroes was the only place on my travels where I was unable to find a fan with a bad word about their rivals, for instance. In Glasgow, it wasn’t difficult.

Some games are omitted because we only wanted each team to feature once. The cross-city derbies in Madrid and Barcelona are fascinating, but they don’t compare to the Barca–Madrid game.

I tried to spend at least 48 hours in a city to write a feature. It irritated me as a Mancunian and United fan when writers were parachuted into Manchester for the day and returned to write lazy features full of stereotypes, which often missed the point. And while I spoke to the usual suspects like players and local journalists, I tried to talk to as many fans as possible. Fans often have a far greater feeling for a rivalry than any player could have. Because of my background editing the United We Stand fanzine, I’ve always felt comfortable around fans and understand the nuances and hierarchy of fan culture. When I went to Anfield or Ajax Amsterdam, I didn’t do what television cameras tend to do and collar the fan desperate to perform for the cameras for his or her opinion.

Instead I sought out the views of the most hard-core supporters. Sometimes they were hooligans; sometimes they were old men who hadn’t missed a game for half a century. But they were always people who cared deeply about their club.

I tried to be objective. I always knew I was going to be in a no-win situation the minute I agreed to write the piece on Cliftonville–Linfield in Belfast. In fact, I turned down the assignment many times. I finally agreed when Mat Snow, then editor of FourFourTwo told me, ‘You either write it or I’m commissioning someone else.’ I couldn’t let the opportunity slip and loved my time in Belfast. I produced a positive and passionate piece to reflect that enjoyment. I tried my best to be fair and the initial feedback on the message board populated by fans of football in Northern Ireland was very encouraging. Then the bigotry started to seep in and extremist cyber warriors took over. One wrote that I had been so fervently anti-Linfield (had I?) because I’d stayed at the house of a Glentoran fan, their hated enemy, on my sojourn in Belfast. Actually, I’d lodged with a Linfield fan.

That’s football fans, though. When Hugh Sleight took over Mat Snow’s job at FourFourTwo, he encouraged me to cover as many derbies as possible. I was happy to oblige. Of the pieces that have appeared previously in the magazine, I’ve already been able to gauge reactions. I’ve been accused of bias, yet been informed that I never need to buy another pint should I return to Wrexham or Rotterdam. I remained in contact with the fans at many clubs, while I’ve no wish to speak to the official of East Stirlingshire who was possibly the rudest person I came across on all my travels.

As in politics, a week is a long time in football: for example, when the Southampton–Portsmouth chapter was written Southampton were in the ascendancy. Now, for the time being, Portsmouth have turned the tables and are the Premiership side, as well as celebrating a long overdue FA Cup win. For rivalries that go back in time, it was decided to retain the flavour and relevance of those particular clashes rather than update to more recent matches, which would dilute the impact of the originals.

Of the games included here, I have covered 14. It would have been impossible for one writer to cover them all, nor am I necessarily the best qualified person to do so. The other writers are listed and credited with their biographies elsewhere. I am thankful to all. Each one of us has tried to convey why these games are, as FourFourTwo entitles its regular feature on derby games of all shades and on all continents, ‘More Than A Game’. From the high theatrical drama of Rome’s Il Derbi Capitale and el gran classico in Madrid to the infinitely more parochial Caledonian tussle for supremacy between the Shire and Elgin on Scotland’s windswept north east coast, football’s most intense encounters are laid bare in these pages.

Andy Mitten

Barcelona, June 2008

Seeing Red Liverpool v Manchester United, March 2007

One of the most eagerly-awaited games of the season, between two teams whose cultural influence extends far beyond their city boundaries.

My head feels like it’s going to explode. Barely ten yards in front of me, John O’Shea is wheeling away in celebration and the stunned Scouse silence means the joyous screams of the Manchester United players are audible. We’ve beaten arch-rivals Liverpool in dramatic and, many will say, undeserved circumstances: one-nil, at Anfield, with a killer late goal after defending for much of the game. As a result, we’re now twelve points clear in the race for a Premiership title most fans considered out of reach last August.

As the players shout at lung-bursting volume and frenziedly hug each other, I have to contain the euphoria of this perfect, body-tingling buzz, not showing the slightest sign of pleasure. I’m standing on the Kop, a lone Mancunian in a mass of 12,000 fuming Liverpool fans.

After glancing one last time at the ecstatic United players and 3,000 delirious travelling fans in the Anfield Road stand, I jog back to the car through the streets of dilapidated and boarded-up Victorian terraces which surround Anfield. Past pubs, the ones closest to the ground teeming with fans from Bergen and Basingstoke with their painted faces, jester hats, and replica kits. It reminds me of Old Trafford. Finally, in the relative safety of the car I let my emotions go and punch the air repeatedly, before looking out to see a man staring at me from his front room window. He raises his two fingers. It’s no ‘V’ for victory and I don’t need assistance from a lip reader to know what he’s saying. It’s time to get on the East Lancashire Road and back to Manchester.

SIX CLASSIC GAMES

United 3 Liverpool 4

League, February 1910

United’s new Old Trafford home, resplendent with an 80,000 capacity, earned the club the ‘Moneybags United’ tag. The stadium’s grand opening was going well as United led 3–1 after seventy-four minutes. Then the visitors scored three times…

My mood had been so very different before the match as I queued to get onto the Kop for the first time in my life. I’d not seen a United fan all day, save for the Mancunian ticket touts working the streets alongside their Scouse counterparts behind the Kop. ‘We’re in the same game and we all know each other,’ explained one. Whether you’re at the Winter Olympics in Japan or Glastonbury Festival, the vast majority of spivs will be Mancunian or Scouse, an unholy alliance of wily, streetwise grafters.

Like me, 95 per cent of the United fans at Anfield wore no colours, but paranoia gripped me as I reached my seat. It would take just one person to suss I wasn’t a Liverpool fan and I’d be in serious trouble. I wasn’t going to attempt to fit in by trying a Scouse accent, mutilating words like ‘chicken’ to a nasal ‘shickin’ or calling people ‘la’, ‘soft lad’, or ‘wack’, but I wasn’t aiming to advertise my allegiances either.

‘Alright mate,’ said the lad next to me in a North Wales accent as I found my seat.

‘Alright mate,’ I replied, cagily. They were the last words I spoke all game.

When Liverpool’s fans sang ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ I focused firmly on events on the field. I did the same when they chanted, ‘You’ve won it two times, just like Nottingham Forest,’ in reference to United’s two European Cups compared with Liverpool’s five.

I ignored the continual anti-Gary Neville abuse, was surprised that Cristiano Ronaldo wasn’t booed once – ls;We don’t go for all that “little Englander” nonsense,’ a Scouser explained later – and stunned that the Kop applauded Edwin van der Sar as he took to his goal. The Dutchman applauded back warmly.

All around me, Liverpool’s flags continue the European theme: ‘Paisley 3 Ferguson 1’ reads one. Liverpool are obsessed with flags. One piece of cloth even has its own website; others try hard to be examples of the famed Scouse wit.

SIX CLASSIC GAMES

United 2 Liverpool 1

FA Cup Final, 1977

With the League Championship in the bag and a European Cup final to follow, rampant Liverpool were clear favourites – even among some United players. ‘We were not too confident,’ admits striker Stuart Pearson. ‘We knew we’d give Liverpool a game but they were so good you could never say: “We’re going to beat these”.’ United won a thriller, thus denying Liverpool the Treble.

At half-time, I met Peter Hooton, former lead singer of The Farm and lifelong Liverpool fan in front of the Kop’s refreshment kiosks where the Polish catering staff struggle to decipher the Scouse brogue.

‘What are you going to do when we score?’ he asked.

‘When?’

‘When.’

But Liverpool don’t score and United have taken six points from Liverpool this season.

It is commonly agreed that there is rising tension between fans of Liverpool and Manchester United. At Old Trafford last October, both clubs sought to defuse the increasingly fraught atmosphere. During an FA Cup game at Anfield in February 2006, a Liverpool fan had hurled a cup of excrement into the 6,000 United fans on the lower tier of the Anfield Road, hitting one on the head. After the game, Liverpool fans rocked the ambulance carrying injured United striker Alan Smith to hospital – though Smith later received hundreds of cards from well-wishing Liverpool supporters, keen to stress that this was something which made them ashamed.

At Old Trafford, past greats like Bobby Charlton, Ian Callaghan, Denis Law, and Roger Hunt were paraded on the pitch before the game and a penalty competition was held between rival fans. It didn’t work. Not that anyone was too surprised given the levels of animosity. Liverpool fans approaching Manchester that day had been greeted with freshly-painted ‘Hillsborough ’89’ graffiti on a bridge over the M602 in the gritty United heartland of Salford. Closer to the stadium, another sprayed message bore the legend: ‘Welcome to Old Trafford, you murdering Scouse bastards.’

The teams were led out by Gary Neville, punished for the heinous crime of celebrating a goal in front of Liverpool fans the previous season, and Steven Gerrard. Both understand the United v Liverpool rivalry acutely given their lifelong affinity with the clubs they captain. Both would rather stick pins in their eyes than join the enemy. Both were subject to dog’s abuse in the songs which rang round the stadium, which also rehearsed some enduring stereotypes and prejudices about the two clubs and the inhabitants of their cities.

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