England’s infamous hooligans descend on Cagliari for this group stage match against the Dutch. What could possibly go wrong? Let’s get straight into the stories.
England Arrive In Numbers
First we have England fan and self-confessed patriot Dennis, who told us..“By the time the Holland game came around, Cagliari already felt different. There had been rumours flying around for days that the Dutch were bringing a serious mob with them, and everywhere you went England lads were talking about what might happen. The football mattered, obviously. Holland were European champions and had Gullit, Van Basten, Rijkaard and Koeman, while we knew a result against them could decide the group. But around town the conversation wasn’t really about tactics or team selections. It was about the Dutch and, increasingly, the Italian police. A 24-hour alcohol ban had been imposed before the match, supposedly another measure designed to keep the English under control, although plenty had stocked up beforehand. The Carabinieri seemed to be everywhere. Vans, jeeps, officers standing around watching groups of England supporters and making absolutely no attempt to hide the fact that they expected trouble. You could sense both sides were already suspicious of each other.”
“We spent much of the afternoon around Cagliari’s seafront, eating, wandering between groups and picking up whatever rumours were circulating. The big one was that everyone was meeting at the station and walking to the Sant’Elia together. By late afternoon England seemed to be everywhere. There were lads from London, Manchester, Liverpool, the Midlands and just about every other corner of the country, all gradually drifting towards the same place. The Dutch were much harder to spot. Occasionally you’d see an orange shirt in the distance and immediately heads would turn and chants would start. There were little moments when groups moved towards one another, plenty of shouting and gestures, but mostly it was intimidation rather than anything serious. Nobody wanted to look like they were backing down. By six o’clock the station was absolutely heaving. Then a roar went up and thousands started moving. Suddenly what had been hundreds of separate groups became one enormous England procession heading alongside the harbour towards the stadium.”
England Fans Heading For Trouble
“It was an incredible sight, but you could feel the mood changing as the march grew. Every café and side street seemed to produce another twenty or thirty England joining in. Chants echoed between the buildings and people leaned from balconies to watch us pass. Then word travelled backwards that Dutch supporters had been spotted further ahead. Immediately the pace at the front increased. Lads started pushing forward, trying to see what was happening, and for a few minutes it felt as though the two groups might finally meet. The Carabinieri had anticipated exactly that. Across the road ahead was a solid police blockade, with vehicles positioned from one side to the other and officers behind them. Nobody was getting through. The front of the England crowd stopped, but thousands behind were still arriving and pushing forward. There was shouting, arms waving and police ordering everyone back. Neither side seemed willing to give an inch. Then the atmosphere changed completely. Police moved forward, England surged against them and suddenly the whole road erupted into chaos.”
“The Carabinieri came at the crowd with batons and tear gas began landing amongst us. Whatever bravado there had been disappeared pretty quickly once people couldn’t see properly. Thousands scattered into side streets and across patches of waste ground, trying to escape the gas and the advancing police. Some supporters threw stones back towards the police lines, which only made the response more aggressive. Every corner seemed to have another group of Carabinieri waiting. You’d run down one street thinking you’d escaped, only to find police appearing from another direction and forcing everyone back again. I lost everybody I’d been with. At one point I ended up with perhaps thirty England supporters sheltering beside a large house, everyone coughing, eyes streaming and trying to work out where the stadium even was. The police arrived moments later and ordered everybody out. There was no discussion. By then most people had had enough anyway. The swagger of the march had vanished. The Carabinieri had made it perfectly clear who controlled Cagliari.”
Police Brutality?
“Eventually a large group of us were pushed onto a petrol station forecourt and kept against a wall. This was where the intimidation became more calculated. Police walked along the line examining people, and anyone who fitted their idea of an English hooligan seemed to receive extra attention. Shaved heads, tattoos and England shirts were apparently enough to make you suspicious. There was pushing, shouting and plenty of nervous glances between us because nobody knew whether we were going to the match or a police station. After what felt like forever, some of us were selected and put aboard a heavily guarded bus. We assumed we were being arrested until we realised we were heading towards the Sant’Elia. Even then the day’s absurdity wasn’t finished. We arrived late and instead of joining the main England following, several hundred of us were placed in the upper tier surrounded by Dutch supporters. After everything we’d heard about them all week, suddenly we were sitting right in the middle of them.”
“For the first half nobody was particularly lively. The tear gas had taken the edge off everyone and the Carabinieri surrounding the section were a constant reminder of what had happened outside. Gradually, though, the old confidence returned. England songs started, the Dutch answered, and before long both sets of supporters were trying to outdo each other. There was plenty of pointing, shouting and threatening gestures across the gaps, with little groups moving towards one another before police stepped between them. It felt permanently on the verge of something without ever becoming the confrontation everyone had predicted. Then came my favourite moment of the entire day. Steve Bull appeared from the England bench and began warming up near our section. Immediately hundreds of us forgot about the Dutch, the police and everything else. “Ooh, Bully, Bully!” thundered around our little corner of the stadium, arms punching the air as Bull ran past. Here was a Second Division Wolves striker at the World Cup alongside some of Europe’s biggest names, and England supporters absolutely loved him.”
“Bull had something the superstars didn’t. He looked like one of us. There was no glamour about him, no superstar image; he was simply a frighteningly good goalscorer who had come up through the divisions with Wolves and somehow ended up representing England at Italia ’90. Supporters from clubs who normally couldn’t stand Wolves were singing his name. For those few minutes the entire strange day seemed worthwhile. The match finished 0–0, which suited both teams reasonably well, but hardly anybody I spoke to afterwards remembered much of the football. What we remembered was Cagliari: thousands marching beside the harbour, orange shirts appearing in the distance, the police blockade, tear gas drifting through residential streets, Carabinieri vans appearing around every corner and then Steve Bull warming up in front of a pocket of battered but suddenly jubilant England fans. After the final whistle we headed back towards town under another enormous police escort. This time nobody seemed interested in challenging them. Cagliari had made its point. England versus Holland had finished goalless, but away from the pitch it had been anything but uneventful.”
The Dutch Perspective
Holland fan Jeroen told us….”Holland v England 1990 – Watching the English Arrive”
“We knew about the English before we ever saw them. Everyone did. Their reputation followed them around Europe and, after everything that had happened during the 1980s, England at a World Cup meant people expected trouble. We Dutch weren’t exactly angels ourselves, and there were certainly lads amongst our support who wouldn’t run away from confrontation, but Cagliari felt different. The Italian police were treating this match as though two armies were arriving. Everywhere you looked there were Carabinieri, police vans and officers watching groups of supporters. Earlier in the afternoon there had been plenty of orange around the city and a lot of singing, but as kick-off approached we started hearing stories about thousands of English gathering near the railway station. Then somebody said they were coming towards the stadium together. At first we laughed about it. Then we began seeing people further down the road moving quickly towards us, telling everyone the English really were coming.”
“From where we were standing near the route to the stadium, you could eventually hear them before you could properly see them. It was this enormous distant roar getting louder. Then they appeared. I’ve never forgotten that sight. There seemed to be thousands of them filling the road, moving together behind England flags and making an unbelievable amount of noise. Whatever you thought about English supporters, they certainly knew how to make themselves noticed. There was something intimidating about seeing that many coming towards you as one group. Some Dutch lads stood their ground, shouting back and making gestures, while others decided there was little point hanging around waiting to discover what happened next. The police obviously thought the same because suddenly they were everywhere between us and the English. Officers were shouting for the Dutch to move towards the stadium while vehicles formed a barrier across the road. Looking back, that police line probably prevented the confrontation everybody had been predicting.”
Things Get Heated As We Watch On
“We moved further away but could still see what was happening behind us. The English procession reached the police blockade and stopped, but thousands more were still coming from behind. There was pushing at the front and suddenly the whole atmosphere changed. Police moved forward and the England crowd surged. Then came the tear gas. From our position you could see people scattering in every direction as the Carabinieri charged. Groups of English disappeared into side streets only to emerge somewhere else with police chasing after them. The strange thing was watching how quickly that enormous, intimidating procession broke into hundreds of smaller groups. Minutes earlier they had looked almost unstoppable. Now there were England supporters running across open ground, coughing from the gas and trying to find another route towards the stadium. Some still shouted towards us whenever they spotted orange shirts, and there was plenty of bravado coming back from our side, but the police made certain the two groups never really came together.”
“By the time we reached the Sant’Elia, everybody was talking about what we’d just witnessed rather than the football. Some Dutch laughed about the English taking on the Italian police, while others admitted the sight of that march coming towards us had been frightening. Inside the stadium it became football again: orange everywhere, England at the opposite end and both sets of supporters trying to drown each other out. The match finished 0–0, but my strongest memory isn’t Gullit, Van Basten or Lineker. It’s standing outside Cagliari and hearing thousands of English supporters before seeing them appear along the road. For all their terrible reputation, there was something extraordinary about the sheer presence they created. We had travelled expecting Holland against England. For twenty minutes outside the stadium, however, we became spectators ourselves, watching this enormous England following collide with a wall of Italian police. When the tear gas cleared and everyone finally reached the ground, I remember thinking that perhaps the biggest result of the afternoon was that England and Holland had never properly met in the streets.”
The Aftermath
We thank Dennis and Jeroen for their recollections. It’s clear that England did have a massive hooligan army out in force for this match, but it appears the Italian police also had a massive army, which helped nullify the English firm’s threat. But they certainly didn’t want for trying, did they?
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