Date: 13 September 2023 / League: Polish regional cup
Final Score: 0-5 / Attendance: approx. 900
Experience
Ah, the romance of the cup! Of the many fundamental differences between Polish and English football, I reckon that the disparate attitudes towards cup competitions says quite a bit.
As devalued as the FA Cup may have become, it’s impossible not to get misty-eyed as you think of giant-killings on muddy pitches, the twin towers (and yes, I still firmly believe that whoever signed off on their destruction should be put on trial in The Hague) and the hundreds of players that have inscribed themselves in folklore – show me an English football fan that doesn’t glow warmly on hearing names like Ronnie Radford, Dave Beasant, Tim Buzaglo or Mickey Thomas.
Then, on the other hand, you get the Polish cups – no matter the format, whether it be the principal nationwide cup or the regional variations – I get the impression that everyone regards them as a pain in the arse: the clubs, the police, the TV companies and the fans.
As a case in point, I’ll give you this game that I was at. Played for the first time in 19-years, kick-off time for this local derby was slotted in for 4.30 p.m. on a regular working Wednesday. Given the lack of floodlights, I guess that kind of made sense, what didn’t was the host club’s determination not to allow away fans.
Having first claimed in the lead-up that the visitors section was ‘under renovation’, it was only after a group of Elana fans actively proved this to be a fraud that Chelmza finally buckled. Even then, the opening of the away stand then had to be green-lighted by the police, local authorities and God knows who else.
With the other requisite permissions and decisions delivered even later, Elana’s followers had basically little over a day to organise themselves – so yeah, while a derby day away following of 130 sounds a little tinpot, under the circumstances it definitely can’t be faulted, nor can the number of MMA types that Elana mustered.
As for the stadium, I like it – simple but homely. Though short on any exceptional features it does its job well with the club offices and team benches flanked on either side by two covered stands each seating about 300 people each. As for the rest, find a cinder track circling the pitch and grass embankments. Proving particularly scenic in autumn, it’s on these slopes that ‘the normal fans’ gather, with the only protection from the elements coming from the trees that rise overhead.
With one of the stands used as the away section, and the other reserved for the home ultras, it makes for an interesting experience to see these two factions so close together. Allowing for plenty of goading, it doesn’t take a full-house for the atmosphere to sizzle.
And sizzle it did. Drawing in a crowd of what I reckon to be around 900, you could taste the hate hanging in the air – and this became even more palpable when a few minutes after kick-off a 100-strong mob of Legia Warsaw, Olimpia Elblag, and Sparta Brodnica marched in to hook up with the Chelmza ultras already inside.
Come the second-half, the ceremonial burning of colours captured from Elana and their allies provided a brief flashpoint with the stewards moving in quickly to extinguish the blaze. But with Elana racking up the goals, the tension increased. Two times I think the natives tried to make a break from the back of their stand, only to find their shady plan stymied by the fast thinking of the police.
With the temperature rising, I shouldn’t have been surprised to find myself identified as a nuisance and collared by the chief of security. Having had enough of me hindering everyone and generally getting in the way, I was frogmarched from pitch-side as his shouts echoed in my ear. “Get out, stop causing problems.”
“Christ,” I wanted to reply, “I’m not the one in a mask setting fire to stuff, I’m just taking effing photos.”
Wisely, I kept it buttoned and in the atmosphere of confusion managed to release myself from his grip and slither out-of-sight. Keeping myself on the fringes thereafter, I was convinced that at full-time I’d find myself on the turf photographing a battle. I did not, alas. To give the police their due, they played their A-game and by the time the full-time whistle sounded they already had both stands firmly under lockdown.
Hardly a classic, all be told, but one of those entertaining trips that feel good to chalk off – and given the lack of excitement this season has so far yielded, that’s definitely not the throwaway comment it might otherwise sound.
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