The Final - Build Up #2
When Algeria scored a freak early goal, a heavily deflected effort in the 3rd minute, the celebrations were muted, everyone very aware we should all have witnessed it first hand. The nearby cheers from inside the stadium walls served as stinging salt in fresh wounds.
As we debated our chances of making it inside, small groups of fans began to find gaps in the security line, jogging and sprinting in pockets towards the next set of gates. We spontaneously joined them, nipping through the barriers in the hope of finding our seats belatedly. The security and police forces didn’t take too kindly to the movement, lashing out randomly and continuing to restrict groups of fans.
I was rugby tackled by a security guard as I found a gap in the barriers, and soon had 2 officers pinning me to a nearby wall, angrily shouting in Arabic whilst wagging their gloved hands in my face. Holding my hands up in surrender, I was allowed to continue moments later, but was left shaken by the overly aggressive actions of the guards around me.
My escape was short lived. Making it only another 20 metres towards the stadium, we were again stopped by security, swarms of fans congregating at barred metal gates. In a mass of people that closer resembled a rock concert mosh-pit than a turnstile queue, hundreds of fans were crushed together with no sign of entry, guards pushing and barking orders at the growing crowds.
Following failed attempts at forming a single file line, the guards proceeded to invite any ticket holders to raise their proof of entry in the air, and push forward for entry. This was far from safe, causing plenty of fans to turn around and declare the game a lost cause, women and children being escorted from the thronging mass for their own safety.
After 20 minutes of sweaty barging, we were grabbed by security guards and pulled through to the turnstiles. Aggressive frisking by helmeted-guards added insult to injury, with Danny inexplicably having his Apple headphones and phone charger confiscated from him, ceremoniously thrown into the dirt for dramatic effect.
Not an unfamiliar sight. Despite the masses outside, Police and security forces stood around idle within the stadium walls.
Final security checks at the stadium door further frustrated us, as if we were set a different challenge to entry at each and every checkpoint. Lack of Algerian nationality proved our next failing, as apparently there is no protocol in place for 3 British fans, or indeed anyone not from the host or competing nations, to attend a football match in Africa.
The arrogance and attitude of the majority of staff we encountered was astonishing, following orders without a shred of empathy or common sense, and treating people more like livestock than paying customers. We all agreed that this was by far the most over-staffed (but confusingly, also the most incompetently managed) sporting event we had ever attended, hundreds of high-vis jacketed and armed guards standing around, creating more problems than they were solving.
By the time we eventually battled and argued our way in, we found our seats taken, leaving us no option but to sit on the floor or in stolen seats. As we settled into our heavily restricted view, exasperated and exhausted by the whole experience, the half time whistle blew.
The silver lining of ‘at least we made it in’ was weighed down heavily by the black cloud of those first few hours, leaving us all fairly jaded and uninterested in the football that followed. After Algeria’s early deflected goal, the game had been timid and scrappy (I was reliably informed by a fellow fan, having missed the entirety of the first half for the entry riot).