Slavia v Tottenham

Last Thursday some friends from the Caledonian School and I took in the UEFA Cup match between Slavia Prague and Tottenham. As Steve, a large and shaggy Scotsman, explained, “This game is absolutely massive for them—this is the biggest game you’re going to see in Prague all year. Absolutely massive.” (It’s nice to know that people actually sound like video game commentators.)

Tottenham Hotspur (yes, named after the Shakespearean character) are from London, so not only was the game big because of its continental importance, it was important because it was bringing over a bunch of rich and loaded Brits to the city: the pound gets 40 crowns over here, which gets you two beers, so they have no problem spending their arses off.

The atmosphere was amazing, like no other sporting event I’ve ever experienced. We were sitting a section over from the Slavia ultras, their most ardent supporters. This is the group that stands the whole game, is all decked out in the team’s red and white colors, and generally initiate mayhem. Observe:

1. Cheering: I think the group had about ten different songs/cheers that they cycled through, all intricately layered between claps and songs. I’m not sure what they’re saying, but if the FCC expects me to keep this blog at a PG-13 level, I probably shouldn’t hazard any guesses. A teenager with a bullhorn led them throughout.
2. Toilet Paper: the commencement of the game means you should throw lots of toilet paper at the field. Makes sense to me.
3. Signs: There were all kinds of great banners for the Slavia Fans. My personal favorites include “Slavia Intellectuals,” “Slavia Girls,” and “Friends of Alcohol.” Isn’t it nice to know there’s somewhere that the drunks, a gender, and the academic elite can all meet and unite under one cause? Right on Slavia, right on.
4. Fires: And they start fires when they need to. This is when things got kind of crazy. During halftime they have these little kids playing a game on the field, and half the people are either pissing or buying more beer, and all of a sudden the cops start pouring onto the field. Now, when I mean cops, I mean jacked Czech dudes covered in SWAT gear just waiting for the chance to beat the shit out of some people. We started smelling something burning and about a hundred of these riot cops come out from nowhere, prepared to escort some firemen into the stands. For five minutes, it seemed like they were about to before, thank goodness (I suppose), they left. But as commentator Scotsman Steve put it, “I really think this stadium is a lawless land. I really do. I think they’re only preventing people from attacking the field and that’s it.” (Thanks for that input Steve, now back to the booth.)

But you look at some guy pissing against a tree while a cop ten feet away does nothing and you get Steve’s point. This place was wide open, and it was a good thing the Slavia ultras and the Tottenham supporters were on opposite sides of the pitch. There are no vendors roaming the stands, no one checking your tickets—the cops watch passively as people commit knick-knack crimes, waiting for them to do anything really wrong.

As for the game, it was alright—a bit of a drab affair, with the lone goal a smart strike from Jermaine Jenas in the 30th minute. Tottenham certainly deserved to win. It makes me wish that American sports could figure out how to introduce such originality to their games, instead of the canned, commercialized getups we often get. Oh well. There is a bar that gets NFL on Sundays, so I’m trying to layer my football (American and European) as best I can.