Before and after the Serbia-Albania match that became a riot: In the Balkans, football rivalries really run deep

The chant from the Serbian fans was, “Gas chamber for the Albanians”. The Albanians replied, “We are better thieves than you and we f*** your sisters”. This was at a football match at Skopje, in 1999; the Kosovo conflict was raging and feelings were running high. Drunken skirmishes followed in the streets.

At the time I was in Macedonia with other journalists covering the flood of Albanian refugees from Kosovo fleeing across the border, while waiting to go across ourselves with Nato forces for the expected land war. In the event, a deal was reached with Belgrade and the violence was limited to some killings and looting; we watched Serbian forces head back home angry and humiliated.

We returned to Kosovo a few times afterwards. But, as the years went on, in visits to the Balkans we began to see old enmities not quite forgotten, but put aside: the holy grail in the region was joining the European Union. Croatia achieved that last year; Serbia, Bosnia and Albania are all in line to do so.

But the events at Belgrade’s Partizan stadium last week showed one should not be too sanguine. To recap, a European championship qualifier had to be abandoned after a riot broke out involving players, supporters and the police. It was triggered by a drone flying the flag of “Greater Albania”, which includes Kosovo and bits of Serbia, Macedonia and Montenegro. There were claims that the brother of the Albanian Prime Minister, Edi Rama, had been arrested for controlling the craft. The brother, Olsi Rama, denied this, stating he had “never used a drone in my life”.

Serbia demanded it should be awarded a 3-0 victory; the Albanian embassy in Montenegro was attacked; there were clashes between Albanians and Serbs in Vienna as well as Macedonia and Serbia. Uefa defended the decision to allow the game to take place, launched an inquiry and threatened punitive action against Serbia and Albania. “Politics should not enter football,” declared an official. But one cannot separate sport from politics, as Uefa itself recognises by separating Spain and Gibraltar; Azerbaijan and Armenia and Russia and Georgia at the draw.

One of the first charges made after the game was political, a Serbian minister claiming it showed that Albania was not “mature enough” to join the EU. The man leading Belgrade’s own negotiations with Brussels is the Prime Minister Aleksandar Vucic, who is much approved of by the West. But 14 years ago Mr Vucic was a hardliner, the minister for information under Slobodan Milosevic. During a dinner in Belgrade last year the then Deputy Prime Minister told me he had been a lifelong supporter of Red Star Belgrade.

In May 1990, in what was going to be the last game before the Yugoslav league collapsed, to be followed shortly by the state itself, the Serbian Red Star Belgrade travelled to Croat Dynamo Zagreb. Arkan, the Serbian paramilitary leader, was among those present. The match was abandoned amid some of the worst scenes of violence seen in Europe.

Mr Vucic had spent time in London as a student. “Since Arsenal also play in red I used to go around wearing an Arsenal shirt. I soon realised it wasn’t a clever thing to do because I was living in Chelsea territory. But nothing serious happened: things were different. I realised that in English football grounds you don’t get any political slogans,” he mused.

Political chants may be an improvement on the inane collection one hears in most grounds. But “Nigel Farage, he leaves the EU when he wants”, does not quite work, does it?