‘ll admit right away that I’m not as desensitized to mindless violence as generation Fucked Up or whatever name the kids go by. I don’t like squid porn videos with my morning coffee, and rarely will I even watch happy-slapping on my PC in early afternoon. It’s not that I’m not a pervert, because trust me, I like for my close relatives to shit on my face as much as the next guy. No, it’s that all this internet weirdness lacks the beauty and grace of the more traditional, artsy violence: good old-fashioned hooliganism.
Many people associate hooliganism with the English fans, but it would be unfair to forget the vast contribution to modern day hooliganism that is South American football. A family outing to a Premiership game may result in your kid hearing the word ‘twat’ and getting spat at for wearing a Man utd. scarf (rightfully so, I might add), but in Buenos Aires you’ll want your brats to be wearing full body armour so as not to get fucking eaten. For added excitement, there is always the risk of the stands collapsing beneath you. And on top of that, you are likely to be sqeezed in with the cream of Argentina’s youth as they vent their frustration over general poverty and Catholic girlfriend Maria refusing to put out. Vent it with guns, that is. If there is one aspect of footy that unites us across the Atlantic, I feel it’s the appreciation of these reckless entrepreneurs and the terror they spread in and outside stadiums. Now, I’m not talking about the real tragedies here (Hillsborough, Heysel etc.), because that shit is just not funny. At all. But I would like to make a case for the random fellow who takes every Sunday off to go to the game for a bit of innocent punching and stabbing.
Case in point: The Holy Vespa Incident.
There is a reason why the word ‘Vespa’ seems to appear in every article I do, and that reason is The Holy Vespa Incident. Instead of taking on the daunting task of giving a full interpretation of this event and its implications on how we view ourselves as a race, let me brief you on the basics: During a game between Inter and Milan in the Italian seriea a few years back, the Inter fans managed to smuggle in a Vespa scooter, torch it and chuck it from the stands onto the area behind the pitch. It is with great pleasure, dear reader, that we can now present you with a classic work of art: a picture of The Holy Vespa Incident:
Seriously, I’m at a loss trying to describe the sheer awesomeness of what transpires in the above picture. Behold the guy with the full beard and the black cap. His gesture is that of the Star Wars Emperor striking his opponent with lightning from his fingers. He is, quite simply, omnipotent. Hoodie guy is at the centre of events, having clearly done most of the lifting. He is so utterly focused on his work it borders on a trance-like state. Meanwhile, the guy on the left in the white polo shirt sort of takes a step back from his art and, with an affected gesture, tries to fully appreciate the beauty of the moment. Tanned dude with sunglasses improvises a rap song to wish the Vespa a happy journey. Fuck Tate Modern.
For some reason, Milan seems to be the Mecca of hooliganism. Just a year or two ago, AC Milan goalkeeper Dida got hit by a flare that sent him to the floor writhing in pain and burned a whole in his jersey. What glorious times we live in when you can take time out from the strains of modern life to hurl rockets at players from opposing teams. And thank God for the laxness of Italian Âsecurity. Ahem, “What’s that, a Vespa? Alright, make sure the engine is turned off. Enjoy the game, Signor.”
Speaking of security, the recent world cup in Germany was obviously a bit better organized. Still, a streaker managed to make his way on to the pitch during a group game despite stewards being deployed with a space of about 10 meters all around the stadium. Seriously, how slow are these guys?
Steward 1: “Wait, Gerhard, did a naked dude just run in between us?”
Steward 2: “Nein, I don’t zink so. Wanna head over to Jürgen’s after the game for sausages and scheisse-porn?”
Steward 1: “Yah.”
Despite the efforts of FIFA et. al., we should never succumb to criticizing Gerhard, Giovanni and the rest of the guys around the world who don’t take their jobs so seriously as to refuse thugs and convicted cannibals entry to our stadiums. For if there is one phenomenon that, if only briefly, breaks the monotony of flatline, suburban life for all of us middle-of-the-road psychopaths missing an outlet for our aggression, it is hooliganism. So yay. Yay for it, mang.