officials. In 1998 France’s Mark Bata made his mark when, five minutes into the game, Ayman Abdel Aziz hacked down the then-Ahly hero Ibrahim Hassan from behind. Bata didn’t hesitate to show Ayman a red card, and he left the pitch after a few minutes. The trouble was that, yet again, the entire Zamalek squad and management followed him. Ahly were awarded the match 2–0 and Zamalek received the heaviest punishment in the league’s history – a nine-point deduction, a two-year ban for their coach and bans for players Sabry and Khaled of a year and three months respectively.
One man though has managed the improbable task of not upsetting anyone: Hugh Dallas. ‘The first time I refereed the match was a bit spicy,’ he recalls. ‘It was the first match since the brothers (Hossam and Ibrahim Hassan) had made the move and I walked straight into it. The players were fine, but the fans were a little more lively. I did have to stop the game a couple of times to remove rocks from the pitch. Fortunately the field is quite a way from the crowd so I wasn’t too concerned for my own safety and I’d had a good game, which helps.’ It did: the Egyptians loved him. ‘He was a credit to referees everywhere,’ says Walid Darwish. ‘He is the only one that we have actively sought to bring back. Coming into this atmosphere is so tough, but he looked after both matches almost perfectly. After every derby, players and coaches give interviews complaining about the officials, but after Mr Dallas’s games no one could find a bad word to say about him.’
This year our very own ninja-ref Uriah Rennie has been given his chance. When his appointment was announced the Cairo media pounced on his reputation, portraying him as a cross between Wyatt Earp and Bruce Lee. The papers ran pictures of him manhandling Roy Keane, and TV pundits revelled in his status as a karate blackbelt. It all adds to the excitement of the build-up.
It is difficult to imagine an event with a heavier police presence. Three hours before kick-off a double ring of policemen in full riot gear surrounds the stadium. Once inside, at the end of every row sits a policeman with helmet, baton and shield. Soldiers guard every exit and half a dozen dog teams patrol the running-track separating the fenced-in crowd from the pitch. But as a show of strength it’s deceptive: most of the uniforms seem more concerned with smiling for the camera, smoking and watching the game than getting stuck into crowd control. Only when I try to take a photograph of a teenager with blood gushing from his head do they intervene in an attempt to prevent such an image reaching the world’s media.
This year’s event is apparently a little quieter than usual. Many Zamalek fans evidently feel too humiliated to show up following last season’s historic 6–1 defeat. Given that Zamalek won the African Champions League in December it seems incredible that they carry such a defeatist air. When the teams emerge their body language mirrors their fans. Ahly players and supporters strut into the match as if the result is a foregone conclusion. When Zamalek trot out they look like they believe it too.
‘You have to understand that winning the league is the only thing that counts in Egypt,’ Nile TV’s Mohammad Rahim explains. ‘The Champions League is a bonus, cups are good, derby wins are important, but if a coach wants to keep his job, it is the league or he’s out. Ahly have won all twelve games this season and with just fourteen to go most people feel the league is already over. If Zamalek look like they are beaten it is because as far as the league is concerned, they probably are.’
As the game approaches it is bedlam in the red half, and the noise is near deafening. You would have thought that not having a roof on the stadium would lessen the atmosphere, but such is the incessant din of the Cairo traffic that the crowd has to give its all to be heard. ‘You stand in the tunnel and are deafened by the noise,’ Ibrahim Said recalls. ‘You get goose-pimples and a sickening nervous feeling through anticipation, knowing that for the fans and players nothing else matters or exists in the world. It’s wonderful! Even as a child I have never missed a derby. There were times when my father would not let me go, but I would sneak out and go anyway. You are in awe of the event and its atmosphere. It is impossible for impartial observers to understand what it means to be a part of it and to play in front of 100,000 people. I have been fortunate to score in these games, and the feeling is indescribable. There are very few better feelings. I’ve got the taste for derbies now, so I hope I get the chance to play in April’s Merseyside derby.’
Right from kick-off it is evident that despite instructions from their Brazilian coach to play something close to a natural game, the Zamalek players’ priority is to avoid at all costs a repeat of last year. Despite their apparent inferiority complex, Zamalek somehow manage to score after five minutes when El Hady finishes off a counter attack. But within a matter of minutes Rennie seals his fate as the Zamalkawy’s new voodoo figure by awarding an obvious yet still frenziedly-contested penalty to Ahly. After a flurry of yellow cards for dissent, Gouda’s penalty sends El Sayed the wrong way.
With both sides surrendering possession with a frequency that would make England’s Euro 2000 side blush, no real pattern emerges. Individuals display odd flashes of skill but nothing sustained. Belal and Gilberto continue to squander chance after chance in front of the Zamalek goal and are duly punished when another counter allows Abdelwahed to restore the lead.
It is unseasonably cool and the match is played at high tempo, but even as Ahly make it 2–2 you wonder if they can keep it up. Sadly the answer is no. From here on the crowd provide the most entertainment. Both sides waste far too many chances to report, making Rennie’s performance arguably the best of the match. Managing to keep control as players writhe around on the floor and dive for penalties is remarkable given his notorious hair-trigger in the Premiership.
After the game several people approach me – the only European journalist in the press box – to apologise for the match. They offer excuses such as both sides were missing key players. Zamalek are without the out-of-favour Hassans and ‘the Egyptian Zidane’, Emam, while Ahly lack Bebo, who scored four in last year’s match.
But few big games ever live up to the billing and no doubt by the time the next Likaa El Kemma comes round, tonight’s will have gone down in legend as another classic. After all, who would ever doubt the claims of a nation with 5,000 years of storytelling history, or a referee from Motherwell?
The One That Got Away Southampton v Portsmouth, March 2004
It’s the South Coast Derby that hardly ever happens. And when it does, ancient maritime rivalries get out of hand…
Portsmouth fan Steve Woodhead grimaces at the map hanging in the hallway of his home, little more than a decent defensive punt from Fratton Park. Dated 1829, it shows the town and surrounding area. In a spidery, old-world hand are scrawled the following words: County of Southampton. ‘I sent off for that,’ says Woodhead contemptuously, as if he’s been palmed off with something contravening the Trade Descriptions Act. ‘I only keep it because it matches the wallpaper.’
It may be a throwaway remark, but the devil is in the detail. Scratch the surface and this snapshot illuminates a deep-seated set of local grievances, existing not only geographically, but on cultural, social, and economic grounds. For many Portsmouth fans, the insularity resulting from the city’s island status and their perception of a raw deal from Hampshire down the centuries have driven a wedge between themselves and neighbouring Southampton – or ‘skates’ and ‘scummers’, to give them their disrespective sobriquets.
Skate, slang for sailor, supposedly has its roots in the fevered imaginings of how naval types might take the concept of fisherman’s friend to the nth degree as they whiled away lonely months at sea. Slightly less far-fetched is the derivation of the term Scummers. While details may be sketchy, the most popular version centres on a dock strike across the two cities by workers from the same firm. As the Portsmouth faction stuck to its guns, the ‘Southampton Company Union men’ swallowed their pride and went back
