Joan Jordán, sitting, surrounded by Betis players. /
In the year 59 AD, certain disorders occurred in the amphitheater between the rival fans of Pompeii and Nocera. At that time, the neighboring cities did not compete, as today, in terms of football, but each supporting their favorite gladiator. There were several deaths and serious injuries, according to the Roman historian Tacitus. The Senate ended up banning gladiatorial combat for ten years, although the penalty was lifted after six. During that time, gladiator fights were replaced by athletic competitions.
The incident involving a madman at the Benito Villamarín has unleashed all kinds of comments and newspaper headlines: some media describe it as a scandal, others speak of zero tolerance for these heinous acts. And the detractors of soccer rejoice because they believe that the episode gives them ammunition to argue that this sport encourages unreason (and there are even those who call for its prohibition).
Without ceasing to repudiate the event, I see it differently: from a historical perspective. Because, in reality, what happened shows that there is a rigid regulation: not only is the direct culprit prosecuted (who is sometimes banned from entering a stadium in perpetuity), but the club and its hobby, which generates a deterrent effect: it is not worth it. The fact that we grant gravity to the throwing of a plastic object that hits a player is proof that society takes violence very seriously.
Football is, to a large extent, a substitute for other forms of violence. Anger, hatred and even a certain tribal instinct are probably inherent in our nature, since we continue to be animals. Civilization shapes these impulses, provides contexts where they can be aired like an escape valve, sets the precise limits within which their expression is admissible, to redirect their destructive facet. Thus, for example, in the stadiums almost all kinds of verbal outbursts are tolerated, but we have agreed that physical aggression is not legal.
A brainless bullfighter skipped the rules we have given ourselves to keep rivalry, fury and tribal fervor within reasonable parameters. It is reprehensible, no doubt. But what I see in Villamarín is how 45,000 fans parade towards the exit, selflessly, peacefully accepting the suspension of the match. We will probably never be able to control completely that an isolated member exercises violence beyond what is instituted. However, I am pleased that the rest are so civilized.
Seville woke up calm. Of course: nothing else will be discussed throughout the week. Because derbies are not only played, but also discussed, discussed. Football would be nothing without the word, Valdano rightly said. Everywhere you see the rival fans in dialectics, each one interpreting the event in their own way and, obviously, bringing the ember to their sardine. That if Jordán overreacted following the instructions of a member of the technical staff, so that a game in which Sevilla succumbed to the superior game displayed by the rival was postponed. Or, on the contrary, that the episode shows the cunning of certain hobbies, poorly educated in the face of the temperance of the city’s lord team.
2,000 years ago, the altercations in the Pompeii amphitheater jumped the walls of the enclosure and spread throughout the city. The rival fans first insulted each other, then began to throw stones at each other and, finally, resorted to weapons. All of this happened in the streets, given that the Roman State was already taking anti-violence measures: it prohibited entering the amphitheater with weapons, in the same way that currently not even a closed bottle of water can be brought into the stadium, so that it is not used as a throwing weapon. Society advances: today in Seville the hobbies simply argue. Homo sapiens has spent thousands of years surrounding his violent inclination so that we can live together. Although from time to time we stumble, we are on the right track: football is our civilized contest.
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