What Was Football like in the 1990s?

1

Euro 2020 – Wembley

ITALY V AUSTRIA, Wembley. June. Knockout phase – last 16. Fancied it. One thing fancying it, quite another getting a ticket. And this in Covid and lockdown times.

UEFA website for tickets – logged on many times looking for tickets for group games at Wembley. Each time none – ‘Sold Out’. Apparently tickets are available for games in Seville, Amsterdam, Rome and other places besides.

On their website UEFA highlighted that quarantine rules applied in each country and it would be the ticket buyer’s responsibility for checking and adhering to the rules.

No chance of travelling abroad. Academic in any event – I’d travel to Wembley and no further.

Another speculative log-on. Interesting. Tickets available, Italy v Austria on Saturday, 26 June, 8pm kick-off. Tickets available three days before the game – at €125 and €185. Steep. Still, might be the only game I get to and I’d seen no significant football since March 2020 thanks to Covid and lockdown. And I had money saved as a result.

Go for it; €125 – £113 in sterling confirmed the website.

More details required over and above those normally specified for online purchases. Individual passport ID numbers for each ticket. Unusual. Oh well – 15 minutes to complete the transaction. Done.

Covid and lockdown must have helped with the availability of tickets. Attendance at Wembley limited to 21,500, reportedly a quarter of the venue’s capacity. Covid and social distancing to the fore in determining that number. Everyone from abroad subject to strict quarantine requirements – ten days’ isolation on arrival into the country. All but the most fanatical and optimistic supporters of the two national teams – not based in this country – would be part of the Wembley occasion.

More restrictions and requirements for ticket holders – tickets only available on smartphones. Need the Euro 2020 app to download the tickets. Entry to the game by smartphone ticket only. Oh and the website confirmed a souvenir paper ticket (supplied after the event) was available at a cost of €15. No thanks.

More requirements – for entry into the stadium I’d need to show my Covid status which must demonstrate I’d had both Covid vaccinations or I’d had a negative lateral flow test result in the 48 hours prior to the game.

ID required to enter – passport ID used to purchase the ticket.

All spectators to wear a mask inside the stadium.

And each ticket had a timed entry – with all the checks required presumably to ease the pressure on the stewards. My timed entrance, 6.30pm–7pm.

Out of curiosity, looked on eBay – any tickets for sale? Surprised to see three separate entries with tickets for sale. How could the would-be purchasers surmount the issues of smartphone, passport ID and the rest? None of the bids exceeded the face value of the ticket; maybe secondary ticket selling has become a whole lot more difficult. If so, few would shed tears.

No matter. Looking forward to the game now.

Interesting that Euro 2020 is played in 2021. Covid had put paid to any hope the European Championship could be staged in 2020. The tournament’s original name retained – maybe the branding and merchandising necessitated it. A bit odd, but UEFA not for moving.

Four separate emails received from Euro 2020 in the days leading up to the game reminding me of entry requirements.

I thought. What if I lose the phone? Or it runs out of charge? Or the network goes down? In the event of any of those occurrences, no idea what happens. Can I still get in?

The Covid details. Had two doses of the vaccination. The NHS app on the smartphone provided an NHS Covid pass for events – check it’s accessible and operational. Confirmed.

Passport I’d have with me on the night.

What a performance. Different times. Just have to get on with it.

Come the day. I live in Hertfordshire – reasonable journey to Wembley. Thought about the car – sat-nav would get me there – but not feasible, event restrictions specifying no public car parks available. Train and underground. A bit concerned about travelling on public transport with Covid infection rates increasing. Had to be done.

Pleasantly surprised most people on the train wearing a mask as per the requirements. And enough space to be socially distanced. Positive. It’s £6.30 return to West Hampstead with railcard. Reasonable cost.

Underground journey quick and easy. Unnecessary concern about whether or not my Oyster card had enough credit – not used it for over a year because of Covid – £3 return journey to Wembley Park.

Wembley Way, from the underground station to the stadium, unusually quiet. No throngs of people. Scatterings of individuals and small groups. Mainly Italian colours on show. Austrian red and white difficult to spot.

The occasional hut either side of the pedestrianised footway – ‘Official Merchandise’ is the calling card. Quick look – overpriced. T-shirts with a cornucopia of the competing nations’ flags £25, other T-shirts £25.

‘Do you have a programme for the game?’

‘No. A programme for all the games played in London [Wembley].’

‘No thank you.’ I’d like a programme for the game showing me the teams for this game.

‘I’ll have one of those drawstring bags instead.’

‘That’s £10.’

‘OK.’ Bit pricey, but nice present for one of my grandsons – Charlie, he’s the one mustard-keen on football.

‘Will they let me into the stadium with this large plastic bag?’ Instructions on the rules for stadium entry very clear – no more than an A4-sized bag allowed.

‘Yes, you’ll be fine. This bag is see-through.’

Purchase made, by card. No cash. Made clear in the rules for stadium entry.

Volunteers with an oversized yellow hand covering their own fist pointing the way to the stadium. Hardly necessary even for first-time visitors – if you couldn’t see the stadium, you certainly wouldn’t see the large yellow hand.

Entrance two, gate J, 6.30pm. Plenty of stewards to check credentials at the foot of each stairway. Phone deep inside my pocket – any would-be pickpocket would have to travel over and beyond that which was good for him. No chance of losing it either. Located. Here we go.

‘Covid test results, please.’

‘I’ve got everything on my phone here.’

Not quite as easy to locate on the app as I’d thought.

‘Here it is. Confirms I’ve had two vaccinations.’

‘No, not that. The note from the NHS that confirms you’ve had a negative lateral flow test.’

‘I don’t have that. Look, this confirms I’ve had two vaccinations.’

‘That’s no good. You’ll have to go to the Brent Community Centre over there and talk to them.’ His arm pointed in the direction of a building 200 metres away.

‘No, the entry requirements clearly state I can produce either confirmation of my vaccinations which is here or confirmation of a negative lateral flow test. I have the vaccinations confirmation.’

‘You can’t come in here without the negative lateral flow test confirmation.’

‘This is daft.’

He took umbrage that the wisdom of his words had not been instantly actioned, turned to a fellow steward repeating what he’d said and sought confirmation his words were indeed correct. His brief monologue concluded with, ‘That’s what we were told wasn’t it?’

His fellow steward nodded in the affirmative.

‘You can’t come in here without that negative lateral flow test confirmation.’ Uncompromising. And daft. Two stewards who both don’t know the rules sent out to all spectators.

I hadn’t come to Wembley and followed all the rules for entry only to be felled at the first hurdle.

‘Well, I’m not going to the Brent Community Centre. I want to talk to someone who knows what they’re doing.’ Steward’s ire stoked.

At one end of the stairway was a man with tabard – NHS Information Point emblazoned on the front. Umbraged and discontented steward left to his own devices. Made for the NHS man. Issue explained. NHS man onside. Confirmation of two vaccinations fine. Explained to him he might like to have a word with Misinformed of Wembley over there.

Made for the nearest steward – he acknowledged the vaccinations confirmation, entry confirmed. Progress. On my way up the stairway.

Stewards at the top of the stairway beckoned me through, pointing to a table. Clear see-through plastic bag on the table. Cursory look by one of the stewards. ‘That’s fine,’ a hand motion beckoning me to move on. No body search which surprised me given the great focus on security (they’d have found nothing of concern or interest except a Sheffield Wednesday key ring).

Turnstiles. Locate gate J. Straight ahead.

Man selling programmes to my right. I’d thought about it. A programme with the team squads at least would be helpful.

‘Programme please.’

‘Ten pounds.’

‘Do you want a card?’

‘Card or cash. All the same to me.’

‘Cash.’ Ten pounds handed over.

Within the space of five minutes, two stadium entry requirements not in place – maximum size A4 bag only, and cashless stadium cards only.

Brief walk around the outer concourse. Make for the turnstiles. Examine phone. Have the ticket on the Euro 2020 app ready for inspection. Not many people at gate J.

Turnstile unmanned. One of those green plastic apertures just above waist height on the left side. The aperture for ticket entry, and if everything works a beep noise, flashing green light and off we go. But not obvious what to do here. No other spectators looking to enter – no one to watch and learn from.

Lady standing with yellow fluorescent tabard the other side of the turnstile. She could sense a man without a clue.

‘Use your phone,’ came the instruction. That bit I know.

Phone put next to the plastic green aperture, bar code facing it. Nothing.

‘No, no. Put your phone in.’

Seemed odd. No matter, do as you’re told. Phone turned, placed and pushed horizontally into the aperture, face up, bar code available for scanning.

Bingo. Beep. Flashing green light. Go. Push through the turnstile. Thank the helpful lady. In.

It’s a good hour and more ahead of kick-off. Face mask in position. Take a walk. Concourse runs round the curvature of the stadium. Bright red seats clearly visible at each entrance.

I thought. What about the ID? I had my passport with me as instructed. Not checked. I thought more. What in theory is strong security – the instruction that passport ID number has to be provided, name on ticket, downloaded to smartphone, personal Covid record on the smartphone – falls apart at the first hurdle.

No checking the name on the ticket, no checking the Covid record is mine, no checking the passport. Any Tom, Dick, Harry or eBay purchaser could walk in and show a smartphone with the relevant details on it.

And the initial check of my Covid credentials outside? Poor. Less than impressed.

Time for something to eat and drink. No queues. Very pricey, limited choice. Chicken strips and chips at £9.49 and a bottle of water at £2.50 looks the most inviting of what’s on offer. Not particularly appetising.

A Roman centurion walks into the concourse – or rather a weak imitation of the historical figure, adorned with a red, white and blue curly wig.

Now here’s a good man walking past – wearing a Sheffield Wednesday shirt, with Di Canio on the back. My kind of Italian (or Sheffielder or both!).

Walking to block 138 and at its entrance a steward notices and says, ‘Would you mind wearing your mask sir?’

‘Of course.’ Mask now back in place having eaten.

Through the entrance, row 31 straight in front of me. Decent seat. Location same side as the team managers and their marked-out area, to the left as the television pictures show it, approaching the corner flag and elevated above the first section of seats.

Colourful moving LED adverts on the boards at the perimeter of the pitch. Don’t recollect many of the adverts – FedEx, Heineken, Qatar Airways the only ones that come to mind. Marketing men would be disappointed. I suspect their main focus is the television audience.

Adverts prominent in the programme. Official Partners (Coca-Cola, Gazprom, WorldFirst, Hisense), Official Mobility Partner (VW), Official Match Ball (Uniforia, Adidas), Official Airline (Qatar Airways), Official Logistics Partner (FedEx), Official Partner (Just Eat), Official Smartphone (Vivo), Official Fans of UEFA Euro 2020 (TikTok). Really? UEFA could be missing a trick here – what about Official Toilet Cleaner, Official Toilet Paper?

Not many in. Big screens at either end of the stadium. Pre-recorded football material showing and the occasional live piece with a quasi-master of ceremonies in his light jacket talking to the crowd, announcing two teams in sync with the names appearing on the stadium video screens. Hold on, I can see him, he’s there directly below close to the corner flag, looking in my direction at a video camera.

Twenty-two names plus substitutes. I can’t commit to memory. Quick turn to the programme to look at the squads. No squad names. What’s the point of that? A programme with no team or squad names. Maybe the thinking is smartphones – everyone has a smartphone, teams available there.

Theory sound, practice flawed. Smartphone in hand, look for the BBC Sport website. Poor signal, one bar on the phone. No connection. Settings. Available Networks, Wembley Stadium, splendid, an open network, no security code required. Here we go. Problem. Wembley Stadium network ‘not available’. Repeat. Still ‘not available’.

Back to the programme – it carried important information. ‘Respect’ – ‘Sign for an Equal Game … we can only fight discrimination if we stand together as a team.’

Light-jacket man on screen again – informing the crowd the warm-up for each team would end at 7.40pm. Within moments the video screens counting down in seconds to the appointed time: ten, nine, eight, seven and so on. Players hurried off. All beat the deadline. Never seen that before.

At 7.50pm – action. Players in the tunnel shown on the video screen, large Italian and Austrian flags placed in each half picked up by half a dozen individuals, held up high and shaken vigorously – must be for the benefit of the television audience.

Entrance of the two teams. Noise. Loudest so far. Perfectly clear the section closest to our seats is the main section of Austrian supporters in the stadium. Loud and colourful.

Look around. Stadium not even a quarter full, certainly not in the upper sections. Seats allocated with a spare seat between each to ensure effective social distancing. Shouldn’t have bothered. Groups came together and sat cheek by jowl.

National anthems. Light-jacket man again, ‘Please be upstanding for the national anthem of …’ First Austria and then Italy. No clue to the words albeit the musical rhythm and gusto of the Italian anthem won it hands down for me.

Anthems over. Teams break into the respective halves, managers and coaching staff to their respective areas.

Roberto Mancini, the Italian manager, sartorially elegant in his light jacket, trousers, white shirt and tie. I doubt a hair out of place. He could easily moonlight as a model for one of those catalogues that target fashion-conscious middle-aged men.

Interesting. Neither team ‘takes the knee’ – in the tournament the England team prominent in going down on one knee prior to kick-off, supporting Black Lives Matter.

Game on.

First half frankly not exciting. Little between the two teams, maybe Italy shaded it.

Interesting during the first half – man with a large video camera came into the Austrian supporters’ section and sat at the front, turning to face the supporters.

Positive play by the Austrians, supporters rising from their seats, closely followed by video-camera man. Now he’s focussed on two of them – camera rock-steady. The two – a woman in her 20s in a red and white check pinafore outfit over a white top, and a man with a light trilby, white shirt and shorts. Looked a picture. They could have come straight from the set of The Sound of Music – Heidi and Johann from Salzburg. Maybe it was Steve and Sharon from Neasden but don’t spoil the illusion. Heidi and Johann flashed on the video screen for the first and not the last time.

The fact I noticed them says a lot about the game!

Half-time and ligh-jacket man up and running again. ‘At half-time we’ve got DJ …’ – the name did not register. ‘Here he is now.’ The DJ with the unmemorable name standing opposite light-jacket man at what looked like a mixing desk. DJ starts to move his body to each side in an unorthodox, rhythmic sway; the audio and music kick in almost simultaneously. From the back he looks as though he may be enjoying himself. Light-jacket man plays along for a short while – facing the DJ he does his best to rhythmically sway.

DJ continues for most of the half-time break. It’s not obvious that anyone is taking a blind bit of notice.

Return of the teams and the coaching staff. One thing immediately apparent – Mancini without jacket. Conveys the message (to me at least) it’s now down to business.

Second half.

A lot better as a spectacle. More open, Austrians coming into the game more, giving as good as they get. Heidi and Johann on their feet.

Atmosphere heightened, noise increased. In a 90,000-capacity stadium a quarter full, it felt and sounded a little odd. No matter, the supporters are doing their bit.

Goal, at the other end. Austria. Good goal. Ball moved quickly around the area, crossed and finished with a good header. Austrians in excelsis. Loud cheering. Heidi bouncing, Johann joyous.

But wait. VAR (Video Assistant Referee) check. Any issues with the goal? Nothing shown on the stadium’s video screens. No ideas what the query might be. Too far away to see if any offside involved.

Loud cheers emerge from the Italians in the crowd. What have they heard? Whatever it is, a flash on the video screen – offside. Goal disallowed.

Austrians crestfallen, Italians rejuvenated. But no goals. Full-time whistle, 0-0.

Light-jacket man springs back into action, ‘There’ll be a five-minute break before 30 minutes of extra time.’ New one on me. No idea there was a precise five-minute break before extra time. Good information.

Extra time.

Game more open, both teams going at the other.

Exciting.

Goal, the other end again. Italy. Good finish from a tight angle. Who? Light-jacket man noticeable by his absence. Except he’s there directly in front looking at a television screen. Within seconds, ‘The goalscorer, Enrico Chiesa.’ Must have seen it on BBC One.

Italians now in excelsis. Lungs bursting. Cheering and singing. Any VAR check not apparent in the stadium. Goal stands. Austrian supporters rally.

Another goal. Italy, 2-0. Same wait for the goalscorer’s name – Matteo Pessina. Italians jubilant, cheering and singing. Noise upped several notches. They think they’re on their way.

Austrians subdued. All seated. Heidi has Johann’s arm around her neck, consoling her.

Half-time whistle. A minute before the second half resumes.

Remote-controlled mobile television cameras suspended on wires above the pitch go into overdrive – first focussed above the Italian camp, then the Austrian.

Second half. Goal, the other end. Austria. The red and white section rises as one. Back in it. Saša Kalajdžić the goalscorer.

Italians nervous. For them, all ends well. Full-time whistle. Relief and ecstasy, exuberant players and supporters. Mancini mobbed. A frenzy on the touchline.

The Austrians? Dejection. Beaten. Players buckle at the knee with exhaustion overwhelmed by disappointment. Supporters down. Heidi seated, Johann consoling.

Italy on their way.

Time for me to be on my way.

Quickly out of the stadium, approach the main stairway down to Wembley Way. Silver-coloured barrier at the top before the stairway. Slalom round it, now down the stairway. Slows the crowd down. Sensible. Silver-coloured barriers now on either side of the stairway. Quickly down the stairs and on to Wembley Park station.

Green lights showing at intervals along Wembley Way – confirming pedestrians can move forward into the next pedestrian section. Crowd control. All green tonight – only 21,000 here. Pairs of stewards – one behind the other – at each section. Controlled.

Straight up the station’s stairway and on to the platform. Underground train arrives within two minutes. On and away – or it should have been. ‘We are being held here for …’ the driver’s voice in the carriage. At this point vacant seats in the carriage.

Two minutes’ wait. On our way. Most seats occupied but enough social distance at my end of the carriage. Four lads further up, one talking, no mask. Not good. Remind him about the mask? Thought about it. No. Only five stops to go and in any event he’s five metres away. Doubtless he’d say he was exempt or something. I can think what he’s exempt from.

On to West Hampstead. Home by 11.45pm – 75 minutes after leaving Wembley. Fortunate to live so close.

Enjoyed the night and the experience.

Following morning, keen to understand comments and reports about the game. The two coaches summed the game up well.

Italy’s Roberto Mancini, ‘There were times when the team had to battle tooth and nail … Austria are a very tough side … I said it could be tougher than the quarter-finals because it was our first knockout match, so from a mental perspective you approach it in a different way.’

His Austrian counterpart, Franco Foda, ‘Everybody is disappointed but if we look at the performance, we can be very proud. We wrote history, we made it into the round of 16 and lost very narrowly against one of the favourites. We didn’t pay attention twice and conceded as a result. It was an extraordinary performance