England’s shame as drunken fans turn Wembley into a fight zone

English football has a drink problem. At the national level, it affects thousands of match-goers, most of them from the outer boroughs of our towns and cities, who even before games kick off have been transformed into drunken, hate-filled louts. 

I watched the England game last night on French television and was dismayed when a large section of the fans booed the Italian national anthem, just as they had the anthems of Germany and Denmark. That was bad enough, but par for the course. What I didn’t know was that outside the ground the police and stewards were struggling to contain a drink-fueled mob that was determined to get in without tickets and didn’t care who they hurt in the process. 

Some apparently made it onto the terraces, having shamelessly forced their way in through an entrance for the disabled. There were reports of Italian supporters and English ticket-holders being muscled out of their seats by belching thugs. At the end, when Italy won the shoot-out by three goals to two, the three young black players who missed their penalties for England were subjected to a tirade of racial abuse that continued in the streets outside and, afterwards, on social media. 

We all know what happens to us when we drink to excess. Drink brings to the surface dark thoughts that are already there, deeply implanted. It releases basic instincts and encourages individuals to act together as an unthinking, unfeeling mob, bent on violence. 

Something must be done. But what? This is where I am stumped. I love pub life. I love a good beer and I drink wine most nights with dinner. But I know when to stop, as do my friends, and if, just now and again, I take onboard a glass or two too many, I either go to bed or fall asleep on the sofa. I do not “tank up” before football matches and then go on the rampage. 

English football fans have had a bad reputation for decades. Stories of their hooligan behaviour are legion. So dreadful were they at away games in Europe that for five years, from 1985 to 1990, following the tragedy at the Heysel Stadium in Brussels, their clubs were barred from European competition. 

It needs to be stressed that not all fans are guilty. There are lots of genuine lovers of the game who want nothing more than an entertaining evening out, with goals. It may only be ten or fifteen percent of match-goers who set out to have a bad time. But, in addition to the hard men, there are maybe twice as many ready to applaud, or at any rate to stand back and watch with amused fascination as events unfold. This is what we saw at Wembley. Those who booed were for the most part met with smiles. 

Abroad, the modus operandi of the true bad boys is simple: they arrive en masse in city squares and drink themselves silly under the eyes of the police until it’s time to make their way to the game. Afterwards, win or lose, they are ready for a rumble. It is at this point, as the bottles begin to fly, that the riot squads wade in, ending in scores of fans waking up in police cells the following morning with hangovers that are quickly overtaken by a raging thirst for more of the same. 

In recent years, with the ban on English fans lifted, a kind of uneasy peace descended. The Football Association, working with UEFA and clubs, was largely successful in containing the violence and barring any individuals and groups found to have misbehaved, especially if racial abuse was involved. At away games, troublemakers are kettled and contained. 

But, as Sunday’s big game revealed, there remains a strong tendency among England fans that is both sullen and resentful. Their outlook affects not only a vociferous minority, but, I would argue, many of those in attendance. Nearly all enjoy the barracking and more than a few experience a frisson of excitement at the possibility of violence to come. They mock the opposition; they hope to humiliate them. Booing their anthems is only the start of it. The truth is that their blood is up and what many of them would like would be the chance to get in there and sort the other side out. 

Which brings us back to drink. The mob – a feature of English life at least since medieval times – is built around alcohol. When sober, most Englishmen are reasonable and ready to do a day’s work. But fill them full of lager and aim them at something they never much liked anyway (with foreigners top of the list) and all bets are off. 

The question is, if this is true of the English, why is it not true of fans from other hard-drinking countries – Germany, say, or Belgium or the Czech Republic? Why don’t French and Italian fans turn from Jekyll to Hyde when they confront each other on the terraces? Why didn’t the Spanish react with fury when their side was knocked out by Italy? 

The answer is that it’s not as simple as that. There are what the CIA would call “bad actors” within European football. There are thugs, some of them highly organised and vicious. But they are much fewer in number and are frowned upon by the much larger, more reasonable element in a way that doesn’t seem to be the case in England.

The distinction is similar to the difference between the atmosphere in an English pub on a Saturday night and that in a French or German bar. In one, the high spirits can quickly spill into fights in the street; in the other they are ready to shake hands and head for home. 

In Scotland, there are football-related incidents every year – usually, but not always, involving the supporters of Celtic and Rangers. There has been crowd trouble in Wales, most notably in Swansea after the city’s team got promoted to the Premier League. But it is the English, pumped up with lager, who regularly set the tone, giving free rein to the aggression that it seems is built into their nature. 

Maybe we should accept the situation for what it is and get on with our lives. It’s not as if there’s much we can do about it. Everything has been tried. We’re not going to shutter our pubs or ban the sale of alcohol in Sainsbury’s and Waitrose. Maybe, like Wellington surveying his troops on the eve of Waterloo, we should be grateful that the thugs standing next to us, terrifying as they are, are at least on our side. Just don’t expect Europe, or the rest of the civilised world, to look upon the antics of our drink-befuddled football fans, with anything other than contempt.