The Politics of Football in Yugoslavia: Sport, Nationalism and the State 9781350989146, 9781786733597

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Richard Mills is Lecturer in Modern European History at the University of East Anglia, where he received his PhD. He convenes modules on the Cold War, the history of Yugoslavia and twentieth century sport. Mills has published in peer-reviewed journals, edited collections and the popular football magazine When Saturday Comes. He has guest lectured at the CIES’s prestigious FIFA master’s programme.

‘Richard Mills’ The Politics of Football in Yugoslavia is everything that a serious work of football history should be. Prodigiously researched, fairminded in its assessments, and wide-ranging in its themes, Mills’ work expertly navigates the contested spaces of Yugoslavia’s most popular sport. His gripping narrative takes the reader from the foundation of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia after World War I to the bloody collapse of the federal socialist republic more than 70 years later. In the process, Mills shows the extraordinary, and extraordinarily varied, roles that football played in reflecting and shaping modern Yugoslavian history. Through Mills’ lucid and nuanced account, we learn of football’s role as a propaganda weapon for Tito’s Partisans during World War II and as a tool of international diplomacy for the isolated socialist regime after its 1948 split with the Soviet Union. We discover the sport’s ultimately ambiguous position under socialism, where it served as a key marker of Yugoslav “brotherhood and unity” and as an incubator for ethnic identities and nationalist rivalries. And we learn of football’s central and tragic role in the wars of the 1990s, as players and supporters signed up to fight on all sides and stadiums were turned into concentration camps and sites for execution. By moving beyond the big clubs in Belgrade and Zagreb, and exploring the very different football cultures of Bosnia & Hercegovina and Slovenia, Mills creates a multi-layered history that accords as much attention to the grassroots as it does to elite competition. His admirable study reminds us that, even when football is placed in the service of politics, it is not easily kept there. The game in Yugoslavia, Mills concludes, was a “powerful and unpredictable commodity”, a multi-ethnic home to complex forms of identity and belonging.

This frequently undermined attempts to make football conform to official narratives, whether communist or nationalist. The Politics of Football in Yugoslavia is an outstanding piece of scholarship: a major contribution to the history of sport and to the history of Yugoslavia.’ Alan McDougall, Professor of History, University of Guelph and author of The People’s Game: Football, State, and Society in East Germany ‘Richard Mills’s much-anticipated history of football in Yugoslavia crisscrosses the Yugoslav region with an unerring eye for the symbolic details that reveal ideology at work. The Politics of Football in Yugoslavia is essential reading for historians of Yugoslav culture and society, following the sport and its teams – some legendary and some lesser-known – through every phase of the Yugoslav past from unification to disintegration. More than a study of football in Yugoslavia, this is a history of Yugoslavia through football, confidently illustrating how visions of Yugoslavism, Communism and nationalism played out on the pitch, in the boardroom and across the stands.’ Catherine Baker, Senior Lecturer in Twentieth Century History, University of Hull ‘Mills has produced an original and fascinating book. His focus is on a complex relationship between club football, organised supporter groups and identity in Yugoslavia and the post-Yugoslav lands. The chapters on the interwar and wartime periods set the scene effectively, while adding new and previously little known information. The author has uncovered some previously unused or rarely used sources, such as readers’ letters in the former Yugoslav sport press during the socialist period. His analysis of the often mentioned and as often misinterpreted Maksimir Riot, which allegedly kickstarted the Yugoslav Wars of the 1990s is sophisticated and convincing. His description of 1990s wartime football in Serb parts of Croatia and BosniaHerzegovina is pioneering. The book is theoretically sound and is sensitive to broader, transnational contexts. Highly recommended.’ Dejan Djokic´, Professor of History, Goldsmiths, University of London ‘Yugoslavia is the missing link in the history of football, as it is in the history of the Cold War. Richard Mills, through the most diligent of research, has told the story of what many have felt was a “Third Way.” He has chosen a highly original approach to the question. One might have

focused on the successes and failures of the national team. Did it bring the disparate nationalities into a shared and ultimately failed endeavour? Instead, Mills looks at the complex and highly various histories of the nation’s many clubs. In doing so, he brings to life the game as a tapestry of quotidian experiences – football from the ground up without neglecting the efforts of those who ran the sport. This is a story of “the people’s game” in a “people’s state.” Anyone who is interested in the history of the sport will read this book with great profit.’ Robert Edelman, Professor of Russian History and the History of Sport at the University of California, San Diego ‘“Football is etched into the history of Yugoslavia” – that is how Richard Mills concludes this wonderful book, and that is indeed the case. At every stage in the story of that now former state, football was used to mobilise the masses for political struggle. From Tito’s partisan team during World War II, to the Zagreb fans who launched Croatia’s independence war, football and political struggle went hand in hand. And Richard Mills captures the ironies of this history brilliantly.’ Geoffrey Swain, Professor Emeritus, University of Glasgow ‘In this brilliant work, Richard Mills shows us that football matters a lot. Indeed the life and death of Yugoslavia were connected to football, one of its major exports. Richard Mills’ analysis explores the roots and the effects of nationalism and football passion when they are combined. After reading this fascinating book a reader will understand how and why football and politics were central in Yugoslavia. From Tito to Karadzˇic´, the main actors of Yugoslav history were present on the football scene and this book offers a wide, solid and well-written overview of an essential and partially unknown chapter of European twentieth century history.’ Pierre Lanfranchi, Professor of History, De Montfort University and CIES Neuchaˆtel ‘Mills possesses a nearly encyclopaedic knowledge of Yugoslav football, which he masterfully deploys in describing how sport and politics intertwined throughout the history of Yugoslavia and in the years after its collapse. By situating Yugoslav football firmly within the context of the latest research on Yugoslav history, Mills provides us with a more nuanced understanding of the links between popular culture, sport and politics. The amount of field research and dedication that has gone into this book cannot fail to impress. This book is destined to be the seminal volume on the topic

of Yugoslav football and can be read with benefit and pleasure by both lay and expert readers.’ Christian Axboe Nielsen, Associate Professor, Aarhus University ‘An original and well-researched book that will not only be of interest to historians, sports historians and students of the Balkan region, but have a much wider appeal . . . A welcome contribution to the existing literature on the modern history of the Balkans.’ Kenneth Morrison, Professor of Modern Southeast European History, De Montfort University ‘Richard Mills’ scholarship is impressive, as he digs deeply into the history of football in Yugoslavia. His crisp engaging narrative paints a vivid and detailed picture of how, at times, political leaders used football to promote unity in this improbable country, while at other times football contests were used to inflame nationalist, religious, ideological and ethnic tensions. Mills also captures the passions, sometimes violent passions, of spectators, which allows him to lay bare the real feelings of ordinary people, who were reacting to the quickly changing political landscape. Mills’ groundbreaking book makes a persuasive case of how the history of football can be used to provide new insights into political and societal tensions.’ Harry Blutstein, Adjunct Professor, RMIT University and author of Cold War Games

THE POLITICS OF FOOTBALL IN YUGOSLAVIA Sport, Nationalism and the State

RICHARD MILLS

I.B. TAURIS Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA BLOOMSBURY, I.B. TAURIS and the I.B. Tauris logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2018 Paperback edition published 2020 Copyright © Richard Mills, 2018 Richard Mills has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. For legal purposes the Acknowledgements on p. xvi constitute an extension of this copyright page. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. ISBN: HB: 978-1-7845-3913-9 PB: 978-1-8386-0382-3 ePDF: 978-1-7867-3359-7 eBook: 978-1-7867-2359-8 Series: International Library of Twentieth Century History 95 Typeset by OKS Prepress Services, Chennai, India To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.

For my family

CONTENTS

List of Illustrations Acknowledgements Acronyms Introduction Scope Approach Nationalism Structure

xii xvi xviii 1 3 5 6 7

1.

Antecedents: Football in the Kingdom, 1919 –41 Constructing the ‘Bourgeois’ Game Disagreement and Compromise, 1939– 41 Sowing the Seed: The Workers’ Game and the KPJ Playing Through the Dictatorship

9 10 21 27 33

2.

Liberation Football, 1941–5 Invasion and Occupation Hajduk: The Team of the National Liberation Army Scoring for the Revolution Victories on Home Soil

42 42 52 58 67

3.

(Re)constructing the Yugoslav Game, 1945– 8 Erasing the Opposition Forging a Socialist Game Constructing a Federal League for a Federal State Immediate Challenges

72 74 78 87 95

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4.

A ‘Golden Age’? Prestige, Problems and the ‘Third Way’ after 1948 The Tito –Stalin Split The ‘Third Way’ Hajduk, Torcida and the Party The People’s Game, Yugoslav Style Self-(Mis)mangement

101 102 107 114 121 126

5.

Keeping the Revolution Alive: The Long 1970s Reinvigorating the Revolution Expressing Discontent Bolstering Self-Management Practices An Enduring Force of Unity Tears of Sorrow

136 137 142 149 156 162

6.

After Tito, Nationalism! The 1980s Crises and Continuities Political and Football Unrest Supporters’ Groups Emerge Nationalism Victorious Counter Trends

166 166 172 179 184 196

7.

The Maksimir Myth Enter Democracy The Riot Media Backlash The Myth

202 202 205 209 218

8.

On the Brink: The 1990 –1 Season Waning Star The Enduring League The Last Final The Last Hurrahs Disintegration

228 229 236 244 251 257

9.

Football on the Frontlines, 1991– 5 Western Secession Yugoslavia’s Diminished Competition Bosnia’s Shattered Game Simplifying the Map

267 268 279 288 301

CONTENTS

xi

Conclusion

307

Appendix Notes Bibliography Index

312 314 361 372

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Maps Map 1 Kingdom of Yugoslavia 1929– 39. Courtesy of Jon Gregory.

xxi

Map 2 The Western Balkans 1941 –5. Courtesy of Jon Gregory.

xxii

Map 3 Yugoslavia 1945 –91. Courtesy of Jon Gregory.

xxiii

Map 4 Maksimir Stadium. Courtesy of Jon Gregory.

xxiv

Map 5 The Disintegration of Yugoslavia 1991 – 5. Courtesy of Jon Gregory.

xxv

Figures Figure 1 The dilapidated Bezˇigrad, Ljubljana. Author, 2008.

10

Figure 2 Radnicˇki dom in Mostar. Velezˇ’s relationship with the building was still evident in 2008, but these relics have since been removed. Author, 2008.

34

Figure 3 A protagonist in Yugoslavia’s revolution. Vis. Author, 2016.

43

Figure 4 The Slovene Homeguard stand before a Swastika at Ljubljana’s Bezˇigrad, 1944. Museum of Contemporary History, Ljubljana.

47

Figure 5 Hajduk train in their star-emblazoned kits, Monopoli, Italy. June 1944. Karlo Grenc Foundation, Split.

59

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xiii

Figure 6 Bari’s stadium, packed with Allied soldiers, during the 1944 game between British and Yugoslav military representations. Karlo Grenc Foundation, Split.

60

Figure 7 Partisans enjoy the resumption of action at Hajduk Split’s shattered ground in 1944. Karlo Grenc Foundation, Split.

68

Figure 8 FK Vojvodina emerge from Novi Sad’s historic clubhouse. Author, 2008.

73

Figure 9 Hajduk Split welcome Soviet officials in 1945. Sˇime Poduje holds his hat on the right. Karlo Grenc Foundation, Split.

81

Figure 10 Hajduk arrive in Melbourne in 1949. Karlo Grenc Foundation, Split.

108

Figure 11 Sarajevo footballers face visiting Tel Aviv in the partially built Kosˇevo Stadium in 1949. FK Sarajevo Collection.

109

Figure 12 Remnants provide a sense of the intimacy of historic Stari plac, Split. Author, 2016.

115

Figure 13 Modern Torcida is proud of its earlier incarnation. Osijek. Author, 2009.

120

Figure 14 FK Graficˇar’s ground, overlooked by the Archive of Yugoslavia, Belgrade. Author, 2014.

137

Figure 15 The FSJ celebrates its 50th anniversary. Zagreb, 1969. Archive of Yugoslavia 734/K-107.

138

Figure 16 Dragan Dzˇajic´ honours the fallen sportsmen of Zagreb, April 1969. Archive of Yugoslavia 734/K-107.

141

Figure 17 Ljubisˇa Rajkovic´, Vahid Halilhodzˇic´ and Fuad Mulahasanovic´ (right) prior to the 1976 U-23 Championship semi-final between Yugoslavia and Hungary in Novi Sad. Courtesy of Fuad Mulahasanovic´.

150

Figure 18 FK Vojvodina supporters pause en route to Belgrade. Author, 2008.

167

Figure 19 Red Firm in 1989, beside Novi Sad’s wartime clubhouse. Courtesy of Miroslav, Red Firm.

180

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Figure 20 Maksimir monument to fallen Dinamo Zagreb supporters. Author, 2006.

203

Figure 21 Maksimir’s South Terrace, where both Delije and Dinamo fans were accommodated. The lower tier stood in front of the brick wall. Zagreb. Author, 2006.

207

Figure 22 ‘Zˇeljko Lives’. A mural to the murdered paramilitary leader adorns the wall of his football club, Obilic´ Belgrade. Author, 2009.

219

Figure 23 Socialist stars and Serbian double-headed eagles mingle at Red Star Belgrade’s stadium in the post-Yugoslav era. Author, 2009.

235

Figure 24 The Dinaric Mountains rise behind Torcida at Split’s Poljud Stadium. Author, 2016.

239

Figure 25 The Marshal Tito Cup at the Poljud Stadium in Split. Author, 2016.

245

Figure 26 The legends of 1991 look down upon visitors to Red Star Belgrade’s stadium. Author, 2007.

253

Figure 27 The Kantrida Stadium, Rijeka. The setting for Croatia’s inaugural competition. Author, 2015.

268

Figure 28 NK Osijek’s stadium carries the scars of war. Author, 2009.

275

Figure 29 Familiar scenes at Belgrade’s ‘Eternal Derby’. Author, 2008.

280

Figure 30 Sarajevo’s battered Grbavica Stadium in April 1996, shortly after the end of the war. Beyond the shell crater, the remnants of physical barriers bisect the street at either end of the stadium. National Archives, USA, photo no. 6503790.

291

Figure 31 ‘The Maniacs: Hero Square’. Alongside a commemorative plaque, Zˇeljeznicˇar’s Maniacs express their patriotic defence of Bosnia through street murals. Sarajevo. Author, 2015. 292 Figure 32 Knin Fortress towers above the town and Dinara’s football ground. Author, 2016.

302

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

xv

Figure 33 A graveyard on a former training pitch in Sarajevo, with Kosˇevo Stadium’s floodlights in the background. Author, 2009.

308

Figure 34 Cˇelik’s Robijasˇi (Convicts) appeal to the inhabitants of Zenica: ‘Don’t forget Srebrenica, 11. 7. 1995’. Author, 2013.

310

Tables Table 1 Socialist Yugoslavia’s Inaugural Football Competitions.

89

Table 2 First Federal League (1946 – 91): Level of Participation by Federal Unit.

93

Table 3 Principal Supporters’ Groups and Foundation Years.

182

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

‘Is it a problem for academics to talk about football?’1 Fortunately, things have come a long way since an exasperated Vladimir Dedijer challenged the President of the Serbian Academy of Arts and Sciences, Pavle Savic´, nearly forty years ago. Over the last ten years, I have been lucky enough to benefit from the insight and guidance of individuals whose work I value deeply. I would especially like to thank those who took an interest in, and touched, the manuscript directly: Cathie Carmichael, Christian Axboe Nielsen, Kenneth Morrison, Catherine Baker, John Hughson, Dejan Djokic´, Bob Edelman, Mark Thompson and Chris Jones. Among the many others who I have corresponded with over the years, I specifically want to thank Igor Mrkalj, Dario Brentin, Slobodan Bjelica, Drazˇen Lalic´, Harry Blutstein, Vjeran Pavlakovic´, Anke Hilbrenner, Aleksandar Pavlovic´, Lidija Davidovska-Ivanovska, Ivan Hrstic´ and Dejan Zec for their generosity. Thanks also to all those whom I have had the pleasure of sharing conference panels with, as well as journal editors and reviewers. This book emerges from an inspirational and collegial environment. Much of the material is derived from archives and libraries from the Pannonian Plain to the Adriatic (listed at the end of this volume). During pleasant months in welcoming reading rooms in Novi Sad, Belgrade, Sarajevo, Rijeka and Split, staff went out of their way to feed my appetite for Yugoslav football. Football clubs across the former Yugoslavia also welcomed me through their gates. Thanks in particular to Predrag Trkulja at Red Star, Tarik Trbic´ at FK Sarajevo, and hospitable staff at Hajduk Split, Sloboda Tuzla, Dinara Knin, Cˇelik Zenica, FK Vojvodina, Napredak Krusˇevac, OFK Belgrade, FK Novi Sad and Velezˇ Mostar. For use of the splendid photographs that appear here, I am grateful to Ljubljana’s Muzej novejsˇe zgodovine, Arhiv Jugoslavije, Zaklada Karlo Grenc, the National

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

xvii

Archives of the United States of America, FK Sarajevo, Red Firm’s Miroslav and Fuad Mulahasanovic´. Many individuals selflessly gifted their time, insight and collections. In particular, I am profoundly grateful to Robert Kucˇic´, Karlo Grenc, Stjepan Jukic´-Peladic´, Lazar Stricˇevic´ and Jurica Gizdic´. Thanks too to all of those I interviewed, whose recollections illuminate events throughout the book. This research was made possible by the gifted language teachers at the University of Novi Sad’s Centre for Serbian as a Foreign Language, especially Biljana Babic´, Jelena Ajdzˇanovic´ and Miljana Ilicˇic´. Colleagues and students at the University of East Anglia and De Montfort University’s International Centre for Sports History and Culture have contributed to this study in innumerable ways. Thanks to my editor Tom Stottor for his enthusiasm and dogged encouragement, as well as everyone at I.B.Tauris. Amanda Dillon’s copyediting and Jon Gregory’s maps are valuable assets. Errors that remain are my own. This book would never have materialised without the backing of family and friends. Matthias Neumann, Chris Jones and Andy Snell have heard far too much about Yugoslav football. My parents Arlene and Gary instilled a love of learning and travel from an early age. I am also indebted to Chris, Barry, Shannon, Callum, Nicole and my sister Jo. My wife Jen accompanied me at every step of this journey, from the first Serbian lessons in Novi Sad, to the long days spent completing the manuscript. Our children, Anna, Ben and Lenny joined us along the way. Despite having to make considerable sacrifices, they have shown remarkable patience for, and interest in, ‘daddy’s book’. Their unconditional love gives a very personal meaning to a maxim prevalent throughout the former Yugoslavia: despite the firm grip it has held me in for a decade, football truly is ‘the most important secondary thing in the world’.

ACRONYMS

AP AVNOJ BASK BBB BRKJ BSK FD FISAJ FK FSJ HASˇK HDZ HNL HNS HSS HSˇS HV ICTY JNA

Autonomna pokrajina (Autonomous Province) Antifasˇisticˇko vijec´e narodnog oslobod¯enja Jugoslavije (AntiFascist Council for the National Liberation of Yugoslavia) Beogradski akademski sportski klub (Belgrade Academic Sport Club) Bad Blue Boys Blok radnicˇkih klubova Jugoslavije (Block of Yugoslav Workers’ Clubs) Beogradski sport klub (Belgrade Sport Club) Fiskulturno drusˇtvo (Physical Culture Society) Fiskulturni savez Jugoslavije (Physical Culture Association of Yugoslavia) Fudbalski klub (Football Club) Fudbalski savez Jugoslavije (Football Association of Yugoslavia) Hrvatski akademski sˇportski klub (Croatian Academic Sport Club) Hrvatska demokratska zajednica (Croatian Democratic Union) Hrvatska nogometna liga (Croatian Football League) Hrvatski nogometni savez (Croatian Football Association) Hrvatska seljacˇka stranka (Croatian Peasant Party) Hrvatska sˇportska sloga (Croatian Sports Harmony) Hrvatska vojska (Croatian Army) International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia Jugoslovenska narodna armija (Yugoslav People’s Army)

ACRONYMS JNS KOS KPH KPJ LCLK MASPOK NDH NK NOVJ NR NZS OOSK RNK RS RSK RSZ RSˇK SASˇK SDA SDG SDJA SDK SDS SFTJ SKH SKJ SKOJ

xix

Jugoslavenski nogometni savez (Yugoslav Football Association) Kontraobavesˇtajna sluzˇba (Counterintelligence Service) Komunisticˇka partija Hrvatske (Communist Party of Croatia) Komunisticˇka partija Jugoslavije (Communist Party of Yugoslavia) Leskovacˇki ciganski loptacˇki klub (Leskovac Roma Football Club) Masovni pokret (Mass Movement) Nezavisna drzˇava Hrvatska (Independent State of Croatia) Nogometni klub (Football Club) Narodna oslobodilacˇka vojska Jugoslavije (National Liberation Army of Yugoslavia) Narodna republika (People’s Republic) Nogometna zveza Slovenije (Football Association of Slovenia) Osnovna organizacija Saveza komunista (Local Branch of the League of Communists) Radnicˇki nogometni klub (Workers’ Football Club) Republika Srpska (Serbian Republic) Republika Srpska Krajina (Republic of Serbian Krajina) Radnicˇka sportska zajednica (Workers’ Sports Union) Radnicˇki sˇportski klub (Workers’ Sport Club) Sarajevski amaterski sˇportski klub (Sarajevo Amateur Sport Club) Stranka demokratske akcije (Party of Democratic Action) Srpska dobrovoljacˇka garda (Serbian Volunteer Guard) Sportsko drusˇtvo jugoslovenske armije (Sports Society of the Yugoslav Army) Sluzˇba drusˇtvenoga knjigovodstva (Social Accounting and Auditing Service) Srpska demokratska stranka (Serbian Democratic Party) Savez fudbalskih trenera Jugoslavije (Association of Football Coaches of Yugoslavia) Savez komunista Hrvatske (League of Communists of Croatia) Savez komunista Jugoslavije (League of Communists of Yugoslavia) Savez komunisticˇke omladine Jugoslavije (League of Communist Youth of Yugoslavia)

xx

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SPO TN TsDKA UDBa UNPROFOR USAOH USAOJ VNSJ ZAVNOH ZNG ZNP ZNS

IN

YUGOSLAVIA

Srpski pokret obnove (Serbian Renewal Movement) Tribina navijacˇa (Supporters’ Terrace) Tsentral’nyi dom krasnoi armii (Central House of the Red Army) Uprava drzˇavne bezbednosti (State Security Administration) United Nations Protection Force Ujedinjeni savez antifasˇisticˇke omladine Hrvatske (United League of Anti-fascist Youth of Croatia) Ujedinjeni savez antifasˇisticˇke omladine Jugoslavije (United League of Antifascist Youth of Yugoslavia) Vrhovni nogometni savez Jugoslavije (Supreme Football Association of Yugoslavia) Zemaljsko antifasˇisticˇko vijec´e narodnog oslobod¯enja Hrvatske (State Anti-fascist Council for the National Liberation of Croatia) Zbor narodne garde (Croatian National Guard) Zagrebacˇki nogometni podsavez (Zagreb Football SubAssociation) Zagrebacˇki nogometni savez (Zagreb Football Association)

Map 1

Kingdom of Yugoslavia 1929 – 39

Map 2

The Western Balkans 1941– 5

Map 3

Yugoslavia 1945 –91

Map 4

Maksimir Stadium

Map 5

The Disintegration of Yugoslavia 1991 –5

INTRODUCTION

The dilapidated stadiums that litter the former Yugoslavia offer a window to a juxtaposed past. On a bitterly cold afternoon on the weathered concrete terraces of Tito’s former capital, it is still possible to see flags of wartime Bosnian Serb President Radovan Karadzˇic´ slicing through the air above the crowd, or an irredentist banner which – referring to Croatia’s Serb rebel enclave, crushed in 1995 – declares ‘Next year in Knin!’ Even the name of Belgrade’s Yugoslav People’s Army Stadium, and those of the teams on the pitch – Partizan and Red Star – jar in the modern setting of the capitalist nation state that is Serbia. In neighbouring Bosnia & Hercegovina, it is impossible to watch Zˇeljeznicˇar (Railway Worker) Sarajevo without noticing the countless bullet holes and shell craters which scar the team’s stadium, or to visit Velezˇ Mostar Football Club without confronting the fact that it no longer plays in the city below the mountain after which the club is named. Further west, in independent Croatia, proud dates painted on Hajduk (Brigand) Split’s stadium wall name the years when the club was ‘Champion of Yugoslavia’. They are echoes of states and ideologies long gone, which football both nurtured and helped to destroy. Clubs across the region have raised monuments in honour of supporters who gave their lives for the nationalist struggles of the 1990s, to football grounds where the war supposedly began and to stadiums where national armies were assembled, drilled and dispatched to the front. These shrines hint at the darker side of football’s complicity in Yugoslavia’s violent dissolution: at the role played by football fans in the rejection of communism and the incitement of hostile nationalisms during the 1980s, and the violence

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which erupted in stadiums long before ‘real’ war finally broke out in the summer of 1991. *** Nearly half a century before the First Federal League disintegrated into multiple ethnically defined successor competitions, football had served more constructive ends. It played a revolutionary role in the re-establishment of Yugoslavia as a communist state. During the years of the troubled interwar Kingdom of Yugoslavia, communists faced merciless police repression and humble workers’ football clubs harboured illegal activities of Party members. Many of the players and functionaries of these teams flocked to the partisan movement in the first months of the Axis invasion. Memoirs from the 1940s recall that football served as a useful morale-boosting activity throughout partisan-held territories and, while war still raged across Europe, Hajduk Split embarked on a Mediterranean propaganda tour to boost the image of Josip Broz Tito’s forces among the Allies. With the defeat of Axis invaders and domestic opponents, the victorious communists re-established Yugoslavia as a multiethnic federation of national republics. Its football administrators created a structure for the game that mirrored the structure of the state, with associations for each republic united in an overarching federal body. They also established cohesive competitions that incorporated teams from every part of Yugoslavia, including its disputed territories. Ideologically acceptable multi-ethnic clubs were nurtured, many of which emerged at the expense of teams forcibly erased as a result of allegedly fascist, bourgeois or nationalist pasts. This football landscape assisted in the creation of an integrated federal state and underpinned the communist creed of ‘brotherhood and unity’. In subsequent decades, football served the revolution in countless ways. At the height of Yugoslavia’s dangerous break with the Soviet Union, it provided Tito’s embattled state with a formidable propaganda victory over Stalin. Expelled from the Eastern Bloc and yet still committed to communism, Yugoslavia’s leaders faced adversity by trying to democratise their political and economic system, within the limits of one-party rule. Again, football proved to be a versatile tool. The game was at the forefront of diplomacy, as Yugoslav teams travelled throughout Western Europe. Long before Tito, Nehru and Nasser launched the Non-Aligned Movement, Yugoslav footballers crisscrossed the globe, doing their bit to nurture ties with Asian and African states. Domestically, the game provided entertainment for millions. Indeed, it developed into an industry that,

INTRODUCTION

3

like the rest of the economy, exhibited many of the traits of the capitalist West alongside the unique features of so-called ‘self-management socialism’. At the same time, clubs and associations worked tirelessly to ensure the revolution remained in the forefront of public life. Yet, Yugoslav football had a dark side. From the moment matches resumed in the war-damaged stadiums of the 1940s, it was beset by scandal. Violent players and spectators, widespread corruption and match fixing overshadowed the game. For the authorities, the most worrying phenomena were the nationalist outbursts that regularly disrupted competitions. From the beginning, football was a malleable commodity. Players, functionaries and spectators exploited the integrative league and cup systems as forums in which to express political discontent, narrow national identities and alternative visions. Potentially subversive, incidents attracted the attention of the senior ranks of the Communist Party of Yugoslavia and the state often intervened to suppress nationalism in the country’s stadiums. After the game had mourned Tito’s death, this behaviour became endemic. How did football contribute to Yugoslavia’s communist revolution? And what role did it play in the state’s bloody disintegration? These are questions this book seeks to answer. In the process, it complements the diverse array of studies dedicated to aspects of the everyday lives of citizens in Yugoslavia and its successor states, whether consumer culture, work or a wide variety of leisure activities.1 The history of the game sheds new light on the internal bonds and tensions that shaped this unique experiment in multi-ethnic statehood over the four and a half decades of its existence. More broadly, it offers new perspectives on the interaction between football, politics and nationalism.

Scope Soviet historian Robert Edelman makes a strong case for sport history. Its neglect can result in a distorted view of the communist past: historians who ignore sport impose a hierarchy of significance rarely shared by their subjects. If big-time spectator sports have been an ‘enclave of autonomy,’ then it was at just such times and places that people were most likely to reveal their true feelings.2 The people who inhabit the ‘enclave’ – athletes, functionaries and the millions who constitute the sporting public – have always taken an interest

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in their own histories. In recent decades, professional historians have turned to this omnipresent sphere of society in ever-greater numbers. Alongside the far-reaching studies of sport that they have produced, it is no longer unusual to find historians beyond the field who acknowledge sport’s contribution to the tumult that was the twentieth century. More specifically, a rich body of work illuminates the close relationship between sport and politics in the Soviet Union, the German Democratic Republic, and other communist societies.3 As late as 2011, a survey of the historiography of Yugoslav sport found that it was ‘still scant and in its early days’.4 There has been some progress in the intervening years, but the history still waits to be told.5 Observers have long recognised that the complexities of the former Yugoslavia provide a ‘laboratory for examining the intimate connections between sport, religion, ethnicity, and nationalism’.6 Communism and conflict can be added to that list. Yugoslav sport is a vast and complex topic. This book illuminates just one aspect of it: domestic club football, especially its interaction with politics, nationalism and conflict in the second, communist Yugoslavia. The crucial themes of professionalism, commercialisation, the transfer market and stadium development receive scant attention. The same can be said of fascinating issues beyond the club scene, including the national team, the women’s game and European competitions. In the context of the more developed historiography of British sport, Neil Tranter wrote two decades ago of the pressing need to broaden the scope of research ‘away from its current preference for the best-known and most prestigious institutions, promoters and performers towards a greater concern for the less famous and obscure organisations and personalities’.7 While Yugoslav sport history still lacks accounts of ‘venerable bodies’ and ‘leading clubs’, at least for an English readership, this book follows the spirit of Tranter’s proposal. It devotes considerable attention to the most successful clubs and some of the leading figures, but it is not a hagiography. The experiences of marginal teams competing in regional competitions are every bit as illuminating as those of their elite counterparts. The impact of politics and nationalism on particular clubs cannot be measured by the number of trophies in their cabinets. Where such things did make a difference, it was often to the detriment of smaller clubs. Throughout the communist era, the lower levels of the game were relentlessly restructured to suit the prevailing politics of the moment, while obscure players were more likely than their famous counterparts to be on the receiving end of draconian attempts to eliminate undesirable practices. Especially in times of

INTRODUCTION

5

conflict, a focus on those smaller clubs in contested border regions can be more illuminating than the activities of elite teams in the relative safety of Belgrade, Zagreb and Split. Moreover, the roots of communist-era football – and also, to some extent, of the state itself – sprouted from the ‘so-called small, lower league’ workers’ teams of the interwar years. Writing about the sacrifices of one of them, esteemed Yugoslav sports journalist Ljubomir Vukadinovic´ comments: Today . . . we know that the journeys which they embarked upon from the football pitch, journeys of courage and loyalty to the Party and the homeland, are exactly what fill us with pride and derive from that old, unforgettable truth: heroism is always located where there are small, ordinary people!8 Many negative characteristics can be found in these locations as well. Without ‘small, ordinary people’, the history of Yugoslav football would be impoverished beyond recognition.

Approach David Lowenthal captures the impossibility of accessing the past in anything other than a fragmented way: The past itself is gone – all that survives are its material residues and the accounts of those who experienced it. No such evidence can tell us about the past with absolute certainty, for its survivals on the ground, in books, and in our heads are selectively preserved from the start and further altered by the passage of time.9 Any exploration ought to make use of all of these resources: ‘Memory, history and relics offer routes to the past best traversed in combination. Each route requires the others for the journey to be significant and credible’.10 The account that follows is firmly rooted in the present. It results from a decade-long survey of the ruins of the First Federal League, as well as more modest edifices. Following Lowenthal’s routes, it frequently traverses between them. Whether the reminiscences of a football-obsessed Rijeka sailor, a communist hagiography of the revolutionary exploits of Belgrade footballers, or a battered cup gathering dust on the top shelf of the Zenica stadium’s trophy cabinet, all contribute to this exploration of the Yugoslav game. Like all histories, the results are selective, tentative, flawed.

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Memories of the events in question are derived from interviews with those who experienced them and the memoirs of those driven to write about them. Domestic histories of the game also provide information: football associations, clubs and individuals with direct involvement have produced accounts, while journalists, historians and sociologists have embraced aspects of the game through numerous books. Additional sources include archival documents, newspapers, sports magazines and transcripts from the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia. They are drawn from archives and libraries in Belgrade, Split, Sarajevo, Novi Sad, Rijeka and London. Lowenthal’s third category, relics, are found across the former Yugoslavia in the form of memorials, trophies and stadiums. Even certain football clubs and supporters’ groups, through their names and emblems, constitute relics to a certain extent. Photographs and film footage provide valuable additional resources. When extrapolated across the seven states that currently exist on the territory of the former Yugoslavia, the potential material for football history is inexhaustible. My selection is necessarily limited. Visits to the locations where Yugoslav football unfolded helped shape the narrative that follows.11 Given the relatively recent nature of much of this history, many of the stadiums, streets and stations that provided the backdrop to the game survive. Indeed, these settings opened up another rich opportunity. By travelling in the same socialist era vehicles, standing on the same terraces and even reading the same magazines, I immersed myself in an environment that comes as close to replicating the past as is possible in the present. Such experiences have drawbacks in terms of illuminating past events, but it is hard to conceive of a more vivid way to understand the experiences and sensations of 1980s football supporters than by joining their modern counterparts. Long hours of travelling in shabby buses and railway carriages, the fear of retreating from onrushing riot police with batons drawn, deafening chants, flares and smoke screens, even the sensation of treading on the discarded sunflower seed husks that litter terraces throughout the region: these are all tangible experiences best felt firsthand. The fact that so many of the dilapidated venues, modes of transport and even forms of hooligan behaviour have changed little since Yugoslavia’s collapse says much about the trajectory of the game and the economies of the successor states.

Nationalism Issues of national identity and nationalism recur throughout this work. Sabrina Ramet understands nationalism as ‘politicised ethnicity’, with the

INTRODUCTION

7

nation as the overriding priniciple of societal organisation.12 Undoubtedly modern phenomena, national identities are usually founded upon preexisting, but fluid, ethnic communities. Describing the latter as ‘ethnies’, Anthony Smith views them as ‘a named human population with myths of common ancestry, shared historical memories, one or more elements of a shared culture, a link with a homeland, and a measure of solidarity, at least among elites’.13 These ethnic identities are anything but primordial: ‘it is fictive descent and putative ancestry that matters’, rather than any biological ‘fact’.14 They constantly shift and evolve. Likewise, with regard to modern national identities, it is the extent to which their bearers hold them to be genuine at any given time that is key. A degree of selfidentification was enshrined in the constitutions of Tito’s Yugoslavia, which stipulated that ethnic identity was legally a matter of personal choice. Following the failed interwar attempt to establish an integral Yugoslav identity for all of the state’s citizens, the communist authorities respected tenacious national sensitivities from the outset. They also promoted an overarching civic identity that developed into Yugoslav Socialist Patriotism. What it meant to be Yugoslav evolved over the life of the state, but there was no contradiction in being both a Macedonian and a Yugoslav.15 Indeed, the maintenance of a ‘dual consciousness’ consisting of a national identity alongside adherence to Yugoslav Socialist Patriotism was an important aspect of official nationalities policy.16 Nevertheless, the ‘civic’ identity was not without its ethnic components, as its composite name indicates: ‘Yugoslav’ means ‘South Slav’. Throughout the twentieth century, the region’s football grounds were ideally suited to the expression of national identities and nationalisms, whether sanctioned by the state or not.

Structure The book has three chronological sections. The first chapter explores the antecedents of communist-era football in the interwar Kingdom of Yugoslavia. Though a very different landscape in many respects, some of the illustrious clubs, football grounds and players that graced the communist years can be traced back to this earlier period. The broad contours of the disputes and scandals that racked the game after the revolution also have their roots here. Chapters Two to Five take the story from the victorious partisan struggle through to Tito’s death in 1980. During this period, the game served in the establishment, evolution and perpetuation of the socialist state. Both

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domestically and abroad, football was a valuable asset to the communist authorities and enjoyed mass appeal. Chapters Six to Nine constitute the final part of the narrative. During the 15 years they encompass, those dissatisfied with the ossifying communist regime and the malfunctioning state exploited the game as an explosive tool. Stadiums provided spaces where footballers and spectators could challenge the status quo. They also served as the backdrop to violent clashes of incompatible nationalist visions. As Yugoslavia descended into armed conflict, new masters put the malleable game to work. Each of the successor states and territories that emerged on the soil of the former Yugoslavia harnessed and cleansed football for their own state-building purposes. In another sense, this neat division into three sections is an oversimplification. The game was by no means solely a malleable form of propaganda in the years following the revolution. It caused a number of headaches for the Party. Equally, football was not a uniform anticommunist and anti-Yugoslav force in the years after Tito’s death. Countless officials, players and spectators fought to defend the achievements and reputation of the revolution in an increasingly divided and hostile environment. By addressing these countertrends throughout, the narrative draws attention to the complexities, nuances and contradictions inherent in the fabric of the game.

CHAPTER 1 ANTECEDENTS:FOOTBALL IN THE KINGDOM, 1919—41

Jozˇe Plecˇnik’s Bezˇigrad Stadium in the Slovene capital Ljubljana is a rare sporting survivor from the turbulent interwar years. Constructed slowly over the 1920s and 1930s, a delicate colonnaded pavilion crowns its beautifully modest design. By 2008, the stadium was in poor shape and it remains closed at time of writing. Graffiti-daubed steel panels mask gaping holes in its crumbling walls; the dividing line between the overgrown pitch and terraces is no longer clear. Yet when it was built, the Bezˇigrad was one of the finest sporting facilities in the region. Located on a tree-lined avenue amid apartment blocks, government buildings and factories, throughout the communist era it was home to Ljubljana’s First Federal League team, NK Olimpija. Its terraces were a vantage point for watching some of the best clubs in Yugoslavia and Europe. Yet it had been built in very different times and for a different purpose. Throughout the twentieth century, the Slovenes had an uneasy relationship with football. Indeed, the game was targeted as a foreign pastime that embodied the obsessive, violent and corrupt characteristics of ‘southerners’ – other Yugoslav peoples. Instead, in the interwar years, this rich and developed region embraced patriotic physical culture movements like Sokol (Falcon), as well as skiing and other ‘morally impeccable’ sports.1 Never intended for football, the Bezˇigrad was commissioned by the Slovene Christian-Social Union Orel (Eagle), a gymnastics society forcibly disbanded as a nationalist organisation at the end of the 1920s.2 The Ilirija football club was an unlikely beneficiary of this repression, taking over the lease of the half-built stadium.3 Football’s conquest of the Bezˇigrad hints at the extent to which the game came to dominate the

10

Figure 1

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The dilapidated Bezˇigrad, Ljubljana. Author, 2008.

Kingdom’s sporting sphere, albeit less so in Slovene areas than elsewhere. Small but steadily increasing crowds watched Olimpija’s predecessors struggle against the Kingdom’s elite clubs. Based in Zagreb and Belgrade, these opponents emerged as celebrated institutions capable of attracting thousands to large modern stadiums. By contrast, the Slovenes were present but rarely thrived. Slovene politicians and football officials, now representatives of one of the three ‘tribes’ that formed the new state in 1918, spent much of the interwar period looking on in dismay as the Serbs and Croats struggled to settle their political – and sporting – differences. East of Ljubljana, football matured into a leading pastime. While its spectacles were on a smaller scale than those that crowned the later communist period – when Yugoslavia’s best-supported club would attract over 100,000 spectators and a television audience of millions for a single match, en route to becoming European champions – it was during the austere interwar years that football stole the heart of hundreds of thousands across the region. The game became a battleground in the contested process of state-building at the same time. A malleable commodity, its relationship with politics and nationalism was multifaceted from the outset. It is a story of political intrigue and ceaseless attempts to find the kind of ‘elusive compromise’ sought by the young state’s politicians.4 The humble roots of communist football can be traced to this first, short-lived attempt to create a Yugoslav state. The oscillating fortunes of workers’ clubs in the troubled interwar years laid a solid foundation for the struggle to come.

Constructing the ‘Bourgeois’ Game It takes nine hours by train to negotiate the mountains, forests, rivers and open plains that lie between Ljubljana and Belgrade. For seventy years, hundreds of thousands of Yugoslav footballers, officials and supporters relied on this railway line. It was an indispensable element of match days. Two and half hours into the journey the train pulls into Zagreb, now the capital of Croatia. This is where Yugoslav football began in 1919.

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IN THE KINGDOM,

1919—41

11

The first Yugoslavia emerged in the aftermath of the Great War. Designed to bring the ‘South Slavs’ – at least those inhabiting the west of the Balkan peninsula – together, it was a formidable undertaking. The state was established on the territory of what had been Serbia, Montenegro and Austria – Hungary. Large swathes had belonged to the Ottoman Empire until just prior to World War I. Its borders encompassed a dizzying number of ethnic groups, languages, intermingled religions (Orthodox Christianity, Catholicism, Islam and Judaism), and vast economic and educational inequalities. The existence of five currencies, multiple legal systems and customs areas, various gauges of railway and two calendars added to the new state’s headaches.5 Even the word for football differed. In the formerly Habsburg Slovene and Croat lands to the west, the translation ‘nogomet’ prevailed, whereas in the east of the country the name was closer to the original: ‘futbal’ or ‘fudbal’. In the inbetween, in multi-ethnic areas subject to influence from both east and west, these terms mixed freely.6 They would acquire national connotations in subsequent decades, but football’s linguistic borders remained fluid throughout the interwar years. The Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes – as the state was officially called until 1929 – was proclaimed in December 1918. For many Serbs, this new entity was a reward for their heroic wartime sacrifices. The Kingdom of Serbia lost a quarter of its population through fighting and disease during World War I. As the most numerous ethnic group in the new state, constituting 39 per cent of the population, Serbs were spread throughout its territory.7 For the millions of Slovenes, Croats and Serbs who had been subjects of Austria – Hungary, the new Kingdom provided hope that they would finally inhabit a country of their own. Many of them had fought against their new Serb compatriots during the bitter conflict. They did not want to replace one form of subservience with another. The seeds of the disputes that tormented the interwar Kingdom lay in the differing objectives and visions of the groups who established it. Though highly complex, and never a simple matter of one ethnic group versus another, the central political disagreement crystallised around whether the state would be centralised upon Serbian Belgrade, or decentralised to allow broad autonomy for national centres such as Zagreb and Ljubljana. A related question concerned the extent to which the three named ‘tribes’, which accounted for the majority of the population, constituted a single ‘Yugoslav’ nation, rather than three related but separate national groups.8 The new state did not recognise its other sizeable minorities, including Bosnia’s Muslims and Orthodox Macedonians, as

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distinct peoples. In addition, the total population of 12 million included over two million non-South Slav inhabitants.9 The centralised vision for the Kingdom narrowly prevailed in the inaugural elections. The resultant constitution of 1921 established a centralised constitutional monarchy under the Serbian Karad¯ord¯evic´ dynasty. It made no accommodation for historic links between specific ethnic groups and territories. The constitution was voted in on a historic date in the Serbian national calendar: 28 June. Serb mythology holds that on that day in 1389, the medieval Serbian kingdom succumbed to 500 years of Ottoman rule at the Battle of Kosovo. This lent additional credence to accusations that the Kingdom was Serb dominated. The controversial constitution immediately sparked an ill-tempered debate, as the leading Croat political party boycotted the new parliament. A feud was underway that would debiliate the state throughout its 23-year existence. This can be broadly defined as the ‘Croatian question’, whereby the majority of Croats refused to accept the centralised Kingdom and embarked on a tenacious effort to secure broad autonomy for Croatian lands.10 This issue, which pivoted on the Belgrade – Zagreb political axis, was replicated in football. In this sphere, however, the Croats initially enjoyed the upper hand. In April 1919, football officials gathered in the Medulic´ cafe´ in the centre of Zagreb to found the Yugoslav Football Association (Jugoslavenski nogometni savez, JNS). As a Croat initiative, Zagreb was the logical seat for the new organisation, especially given the superior quality of Croatian football at the time. Zagreb’s leading clubs established strong reputations before World War I, and for most of the 1920s Croatian players predominated in the Kingdom’s national team. The line-up for the first official game – at the 1920 Olympics – contained just one Serb. The final state championship matches were held in Zagreb, as were the majority of international games. Football was one of the few statewide activities not centring on Belgrade. Yet during the 1920s, elite Serbian clubs and their players rose to the challenge of their talented Croatian counterparts.11 Influential individuals in the Kingdom’s capital soon began to press for the JNS to relocate. Having said this, football was administered on a territorial rather than ethnic basis. After the establishment of the JNS, its four constituent subassociations mapped the contours of the Yugoslav game. The jurisdictions of the Zagreb, Belgrade, Split and Ljubljana organisations were very broad and cut across historic and ethnic boundaries. Initially, the Zagreb Football SubAssociation (Zagrebacˇki nogometni podsavez, ZNP) covered much of modern day Croatia as well as large swathes of northern Bosnia. Its Belgrade

FOOTBALL

IN THE KINGDOM,

1919—41

13

counterpart’s reach extended from the Hungarian border in the north to the Greek frontier in the south, encompassing modern Serbia, Macedonia and Kosovo. As the game’s popularity grew and the number of clubs increased exponentially, additional sub-associations emerged across the state and the reach of the original four contracted.12 The interwar game was dominated by a handful of influential ‘bourgeois’ clubs from the industrial and political centres. The first national championship of 1923 heralded the reign of dominant teams from just three cities: Zagreb’s Grad¯anski (Civic), HASˇK (Hrvatski akademski sˇportski klub, Croatian Academic Sport Club) and Concordia won eight titles between them; BSK (Beogradski sport klub, Belgrade Sport Club) and Jugoslavija from Belgrade triumphed on seven occasions; while Hajduk (Brigand) from Split was victorious twice. The performances of these teams from the political and cultural metropoles of the Croat and Serb nations, along with the solidly Croatian Split, underlined the extent to which two national groups dominated interwar life. For the sporting public, major victories on the football pitch were also victories for their respective nation. When Jugoslavija returned to Belgrade with the national championship for the first time in 1924, 10,000 people greeted them at the railway station, though these jubilant scenes were marred by violent police intervention against the revellers. While Slovene teams were never able to challenge their financially and politically powerful Serb and Croat counterparts, they fared better than clubs from the south of the Kingdom. With the odds stacked against them in terms of nationality policy, the structure of the state and the game, teams from modern Montenegro, Macedonia and Kosovo were largely absent at the national level.13 Away from the pitch, the largest Serb and Croat clubs dominated the politics of the JNS and the leading sub-associations. One means of leverage was the system of mandates ( punomoc´i), with poorer clubs – and those far from Zagreb and Belgrade – surrendering their right to vote at annual assemblies in exchange for equipment, a lucrative fixture or some other benefit. This enabled the more powerful teams to wield large blocks of votes and dominate proceedings. The system was open to widespread abuse. In the period immediately prior to important JNS votes, powerful figures formed bogus clubs to increase the mandates at their disposal.14 In addition to manipulation, there was a significant amount of overlap between the administrations of the leading teams and the governing bodies. When particular clubs managed to take control of overarching associations it sparked considerable discord among those who disagreed with the chosen course of action or suffered from abuses of power. For

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instance, from the moment that the Belgrade sub-association was formed, the leading figures behind Jugoslavija and BSK jostled for control. Relations between the two clubs were often bitter.15 The Kingdom’s urban elite was actively involved in football. A distinguished line of highly educated and successful individuals served as Hajduk’s president, including surgeons, archaeologists, doctors, dentists, financial experts, architects and engineers who had been educated in Prague, Graz, Vienna and Paris.16 Club boards were composed of leading political, professional, military and industrial figures. Vojvodina Novi Sad’s 1940 administration was typical. The governor of the Dunavska Banovina, the most senior political office in this large administrative region, was honorary president. The president of the Chamber of Commerce, Industry and Vocation, the vice-president of the municipality, the head of the Department of Public Security and military figures filled other positions. Concentrating the political and economic elite of the city, the club was able to resolve complex stadium planning and funding issues rapidly.17 Sport and politics rubbed shoulders throughout the interwar years. Beyond football, the Sokol movement, a mass youth physical fitness and pan-Slavic organisation, attracted royal support. When the various national Sokols merged into a single Yugoslav organisation in 1919, they did so under the politically expedient slogan: ‘One state, one nation (narod), one Sokol’. Despite this promising stance, the movement splintered. While the Yugoslav Sokol represented a liberal and anti-clerical Yugoslavism, in 1922 a separate Croat Sokol was founded to protect the distinct Croat (Catholic) identity.18 Nevertheless, by the end of the decade, a state-engineered Sokol became a key means of instilling a Yugoslav identity and patriotic zeal. Though not harnessed as openly as Sokol, football clubs were bastions of the prevailing politics of their respective regions. Particularly in Serbian strongholds, clubs endeavoured to ingratiate themselves with the monarchy. The Vojvodina club named its stadium after Karad¯ord¯e, the nineteenthcentury leader of the first Serbian uprising, and opened it on Vidovdan 1924. When the club was in need of financial assistance from the authorities, it grounded requests in patriotic language and underlined its role in fighting for and nurturing the Kingdom. In an effort to secure funds to renovate its stadium, the management wrote to the city authority on paper headed with the slogan ‘We will protect Yugoslavia!’ Our club, as the sole national club [in Novi Sad], was founded in 1913 by pupils of the Serbian Orthodox High School . . . . In previous years, before, during and after the war, our club – as the sole national

FOOTBALL

IN THE KINGDOM,

1919—41

15

club in this region – not only worked and fought in the field of sport– football [nogomet], it was also a gathering place for our youth, conscious of their duties and responsibilities to their fatherland . . . Fighting for survival in the course of its work, our club spared itself no effort or torment in order to persevere and win this battle . . . this struggle was bound up with great sacrifices, especially before and during the war.19 The renovated sports ground would enable Vojvodina to raise fitness levels in the city and perform many of the duties assigned to Sokol. In stressing the club’s Serbian roots, as well as its loyalty to Yugoslavia, it is clear that, for Vojvodina’s management, Yugoslav and Serbian identities were virtually identical. Jugoslavija Belgrade also reveled in its symbolic contribution to the monarchy. A publication produced to mark the club’s twenty-fifth anniversary is replete with images of uniformed and bemedalled army officers, and delights in the fact that King Aleksandar attended the team’s matches in the 1920s. The club’s name is even more illustrative. Founded before World War I as Velika Srbija (Greater Serbia), members immediately embraced its new title in the postwar peace. For many politicians in Belgrade too, the ‘Greater Serbian’ and ‘Yugoslav’ identities – with their ambitious territorial claims – were not so different. In a Serb-dominated environment, the club proudly boasted that it was among the first to embrace the all-encompassing name, ten years before its official adoption by the state. Nevertheless, Jugoslavija was a proud adherent to the official state line that sport and politics should not mix.20 Elsewhere, patriotic ties were encouraged among and even forced upon populations slated for assimilation. The identity of Slavs in the south of the Kingdom was hotly contested: claimed by Serbs and Bulgarians, these people who would be recognised as distinct Macedonians after World War II were subjected to Serbianisation. In football, the authorities proscribed club names that implied the existence of a separate identity. Instead, teams were given names inspired by the glories of Serbian history, or which implied that the territory of Macedonia belonged to the Serbian, that is Yugoslav, state. This explains the existence of clubs called Dusˇan Silni (Dusˇan the Mighty), Jug (South) and Jugosloven (Yugoslav). Other teams in this disputed territory embraced the names of specific Serbian regions. The leadership of the Sˇumadija club from Strumica stated that they had adopted this name in honour of the ‘Serbian Piedmont’; it was ‘an act of

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respect towards their Serbian liberators’, who had delivered them from Ottoman rule.21 While it was politically sensitive to establish clubs imbued with national content deemed hostile by the state, in ethnically diverse regions, clubs often formed along ethnic lines. In Sarajevo, there were distinct clubs for Serbs, Croats, Muslims and Jews, as well as teams not defined by ethnicity. Non-Slav minorities formed clubs across the Kingdom. For instance, Jewish communities rallied behind Juda Makabi in Novi Sad, while the Roma of Leskovac founded the ‘Sport’ Leskovac Roma Football Club (Leskovacˇki ciganski loptacˇki klub).22 Elsewhere, minorities and the favoured ‘tribes’ coalesced around multi-ethnic teams.23 In Croatian areas, clubs espoused a Croatian identity. The red and white checked sˇahovnica pattern, a ubiquitous national symbol, featured on the emblems of Hajduk, Grad¯anski and many other clubs during the interwar years.24 Zagreb’s Grad¯anski, or ‘First Croatian Civic Sport Club’ to use its full title, enjoyed a close relationship with the preeminent Croatian politician Stjepan Radic´ and his Croatian Peasant Party. Radic´ even spoke at the opening of the club’s ground in 1924.25 However, these teams also needed to demonstrate loyalty to the Yugoslav state. For much of the period, the authorities compelled clubs to include the prefix ‘Yugoslav’ in their names.26 Poor interclub relations marred the interwar game. Though questions of national identity were never far from the pitch, disputes were just as likely to be motivated by political divisions and sporting rivalries. An early example illustrates this point. Hajduk, founded in 1911, emerged as the leading team in the coastal city of Split. According to the Split Football Sub-Association, there had been little in the way of bad feeling against the club prior to World War I. By 1921, with the formation of local rivals, the situation had changed: ‘Today, on the contrary, there are fanatics in the city who enjoy foisting untruths on their sporting colleagues and falsely accuse them. But, such sporting colleagues can also be found in Zagreb, as well as in Split’. Split’s officials condemned the conduct of visiting teams: Political and sporting hatred is guilty for that behaviour, if there is anything sporting about people who promote pure lies to guests. We know that some members of Grad¯anski from Zagreb asked the Ilirija players whether they had armed themselves with revolvers for the match in Split . . . . We know that a functionary of the local Jug club told an Ilirija player that, after losing a match against Rapid

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IN THE KINGDOM,

1919—41

17

Maribor, the Hajduk players beat up the referee because he refereed in an impartial manner.27 Zagreb-based publications were also named among the culprits, an early indicator of what would come. Later in the year, a Split writer condemned his Zagreb counterparts for chauvinist coverage of a Grad¯anski match against Hajduk: The game reports published in the Zagreb press offend us deeply, both as sportsmen and as citizens of Zvonimir’s city [Split]. Those reports present the Hajduk players as eleven brigand thugs, and the public who came to watch the attractive play of Grad¯anski, who were left disappointed, as the wildest, most vulgar and savage crowd; they called them ‘Africans’. To put it mildly, as mildly as we can, those reports are fictitious.28 Slovene journalists rounded on their Zagreb colleagues and the Grad¯anski club in a similar fashion, but they also targeted the game as a whole. In particular, sports journalists with close ties to the Sokol movement attacked football’s morality. For a section of interwar society, the troubled sport became ‘an attribute for non-Slovenianness’. It was the antithesis of the ‘noble, healthy, amateur, and morally impeccable’ Sokol. It was also an attractive rival activity for youths coveted by Sokol. In addition to excessive passions and club loyalties, along with the violence they sometimes provoked, Slovenes and others condemned football’s drift towards professionalism.29 The informal system of bonuses, compensation for loss of earnings and travel expenses that developed during the 1920s and 1930s made a mockery of football’s formally amateur status. The informality of these practices created difficulties for talented players: Hajduk’s And¯elko Marusˇic´ had to resign from his job in order to embark upon the club’s four-month tour of South America in 1931. Some of his teammates were not prepared to risk their livelihoods in the same way.30 Nevertheless, many players made a handsome living from the game. The JNS sanctioned payments in 1935, when it also enabled clubs to secure the services of footballers through contracts.31 The significant amounts of money lubricating football enabled the best teams to construct impressive stadiums, but also encouraged corruption and match fixing. The latter fuelled relentless feuds between clubs and rival centres of power. Distrust was so acute by the 1930s that the JNS sanctioned the use of foreign referees, at the clubs’ expense, in the domestic championship.32

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At the national level, infighting debilitated both politics and football from an early stage. Radic´’s party boycotted the Yugoslav parliament for much of the 1920s, arguing that the state ignored the aspirations of the Croat nation. Parliamentary procedure was stunted by violence, intimidation, insults and walkouts. In the football association, heated debates raged about the location of the governing body, the format of the national league, and the way the game was administered. Both the political and football institutions exploded in the final years of the decade. After numerous failed governments, Yugoslav politics sank to a new low in 1928. In a packed Belgrade parliament, Montenegrin deputy Punisˇa Racˇic´ gunned down members of the Croatian Peasant Party. Two died immediately, while the Party’s leader, Stjepan Radic´, succumbed to his wounds later in the year. The shootings provoked an outpouring of Croat resentment, embodied by a mass demonstration in Zagreb. Grad¯anski’s footballers were among the participants and several of them were injured in clashes with the police. Against this tense political backdrop, crowd violence marred a match between Hajduk Split and Belgrade’s Jugoslavija, as local fans attacked the referee and players of the visiting Serb club. Only police intervention could restore order.33 The King responded to the tragic breakdown in parliamentary politics by abolishing parliament and all political parties, and establishing the 6 January Dictatorship in 1929. His solution to the disunity that was tearing the country apart was to enforce a centralised state and a single, integral ‘Yugoslav’ nationality. New administrative borders were based on territorial rather than ethnic criteria, though they gave Serbs a majority in six of the nine new provinces (banovine) (see Map 1).34 King Aleksandar turned to Sokol as a means of implementing his plans. Steeped in patriotic language, the mass movement enabled the authorities to transmit the new integral Yugoslavism to the population. First, the state intervened to cleanse it of impurities. They disbanded the ‘nest’ of ‘tribal irredentism’ that was the Croatian Sokol, as well as the separate Slovene Orel organisation, as part of a process to consolidate a single Yugoslav cultural sphere. Until 1929, the Yugoslav Sokol had been headquartered in Ljubljana, but the new Union of Sokols of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia was centralised in Belgrade. The organisation enjoyed explicit political, financial and logistical backing from the state. It promised to create a physically fit and patriotic youth, eager to defend both fatherland and king. Technically a voluntary organisation, the state pressurised schoolteachers to embrace it. Members were offered valuable incentives, including a reduction in the period of mandatory military service. The Yugoslav identity

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IN THE KINGDOM,

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promoted by the movement was saturated in Serbian national myths, history and symbols and it swiftly provoked resentment among the Kingdom’s non-Serb populations.35 Football, in contrast, with its various power centres, complex national competitions and fierce club loyalties, was a more nuanced and volatile political vehicle. Nevertheless, it did not escape the 1929 upheaval. Proceedings in the JNS, for which King Aleksandar served as patron, soon mirrored those of the national parliament. Since the middle of the decade, the Serbian game’s elite harboured ambitions of bringing the governing body to Belgrade.36 Emboldened by the political situation, Serbian delegates sought to wrestle the seat of the JNS from Zagreb. At the annual assembly of November 1929, leading clubs from the capital – BSK and Jugoslavija – issued a joint proposal to that effect. The Zagreb hosts were initially confident in their ability to secure a majority, but when early votes went decisively in favour of Belgrade, they feared the worst. A spokesman for the ZNP, appealing to the assembly to remove the question from the agenda, argued that the JNS should be reformed into an overarching body with three subassociations. This fell on deaf ears and the gathering descended into chaos. The main vote was an open ballot and it soon became clear that many non-Serb participants favoured relocation. When a Slovene delegate cast his ten mandates in favour of Belgrade, the Croats were shocked. Certain to lose the vote, some of the Zagreb delegates became aggressive, forcing the police to intervene. They cleared the public gallery, but the hostile crowd burst into the main hall. Eventually, officers broke up the assembly amid violent scenes.37 The Belgrade press, hardly an impartial voice, castigated the Croatian delegates in the days that followed: They organised disorder with the objective of dispersing the assembly and disrupting the vast majority from carrying out their will. For all objective delegates who were present it was clear that the final act of the Zagreb sporting tragedy had played out. Nobody could avoid that impression. In the end it was difficult to watch the great moral decline of these sportsmen, who once again – more intensively and so clearly – demonstrated that Zagreb is not the place for the Yugoslav Football Association.38 Slovene delegates, whose votes had sparked the disorder, were indignant that they had been taken for granted by their Zagreb colleagues. On the insistence of the Ministry of the Interior the JNS reconvened four months later, in March 1930. In the meantime, the Croatian sub-association

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had formed 155 additional clubs in an attempt to sway the vote. Most of them existed only on paper. However, the police intervened to ensure that only clubs that had been eligible to vote in November could participate. Indeed, the authorities carefully stage-managed this second assembly. Given that the police ruling made the vote a fait accompli, the JNS’ Croatian president abandoned the hall, followed by the vast majority of delegates from the Zagreb, Split and Osijek sub-associations. In their absence, the assembly voted overwhelmingly to relocate the association’s headquarters to Belgrade (213 to 12, with seven abstentions). Some Croats stayed in the room, including Hajduk’s representative, but senior figures in the Belgrade game predominated in the newly elected board.39 This relocation feud exacerbated poor relations between Zagreb and Belgrade, not least because, after 1930, Belgrade regularly exploited the opportunity to act against Croatian clubs. The coup had far-reaching consequences. Due to the prevailing climate in the JNS, talented Croat players had been boycotting the national team since 1928. When the squad travelled to Prague for a friendly match against Czechoslovakia, the Yugoslav coach only had ten players at his disposal. To make up the numbers, a Polish footballer was drafted in at the last minute.40 It was only after the vote, however, that the boycott acquired huge symbolic significance. When Yugoslavia competed in the first World Cup of 1930, the squad included none of their Croatian stars. Yet, to the delight of the Belgrade-based JNS, an underrated and predominantly Serbian team enjoyed remarkable success, reaching the semi-finals.41 While King Aleksandar’s proclamation of 1929 was initially welcomed by many who had lost faith in the young state’s politicians, a repressive and brutal regime soon emerged. Many political figures, including Radic´’s successor as leader of the Croatian Peasant Party – Vladko Macˇek – spent long spells in prison. Croat and Macedonian extremists then assassinated the king in 1934. During his time as ruler, Aleksandar had done much to improve Yugoslavia’s foreign relations; this was no mean feat considering that Italy, Hungary, Bulgaria and Albania all had irredentist claims against Yugoslav territory. It was, however, the country’s internal instability that sealed his fate.42 Aleksandar’s eleven-year-old son could not inherit. Instead, Prince Regent Paul took up the reins. He saw the resolution of the Croatian question as the most pressing issue and released Macˇek. While a solution continued to elude the royal government, the country swerved dramatically further right. Milan Stojadinovic´, prime minister between 1935 and 1939, flirted with fascism – as well as Belgrade’s leading football clubs – as the

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country’s economy grew dependent on Nazi Germany. Yugoslavia shared a border with the Third Reich after the Anschluss of 1938. Both the national team and Hajduk had to negotiate a question confronting many athletes at the time: how to respond to fascism on the sports field? Italy’s footballers were pelted with stones and jeered in Belgrade when they gave the fascist salute.43 Likewise, Hajduk players refused to respond in kind when Roma greeted them in this fashion in both Split and the Italian capital. This was despite the fact that Yugoslav dignitaries encouraged them to do so.44 Domestically, the state’s football competitions were in constant flux, with little agreement on the best way to structure the championship. Tight finances, the country’s poor infrastructure and disagreements between rival power centres hindered the establishment of a stable league. Over the course of the Kingdom’s 23-year existence, the format changed almost annually. It grew in complexity as the number of teams and sub-associations increased. Clubs usually qualified for the national championship via the leagues of their respective sub-associations. In some seasons, the final tournament took the form a knock-out cup competition; in others, a league system prevailed. It was also a hostage to fortune. On one occasion in 1934, disagreement resulted in an entirely new format after participants for a tenteam league had already been finalised. When a new and expanded qualification group stage finally got under way, it was interrupted by the King’s assassination. The qualifying process resumed, but the absence of agreement meant that the final rounds never took place.45 Two years later, discord over the system prompted Croat clubs to boycott the final stage of the championship. Despite willingness to trial numerous options, a format satisfactory to all parties eluded the Kingdom’s football administrators. Even after World War II, their successors would face this Gordian knot on a perennial basis. Against a troubling international backdrop, in both politics and football it was the Croatian question that eventually forced officials into action in 1939. Both the JNS and the royal government found themselves in a position where a combination of dissatisfied Croats and overbearing Serb defenders of centralism threatened to bring about total collapse.

Disagreement and Compromise, 1939 –41 Football stole a march on politics, as the ZNP led Croatian clubs in a pitched battle against the Belgrade-centric JNS. At a time when a workable political agreement still eluded the troubled state, the tempestuous JNS annual assembly of January 1939 attracted the attention of citizens who usually

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showed no interest in football. Beset by scandals, intrigues and power grabs throughout the interwar years, Yugoslav football teetered on the brink of disintegration. The correspondent of the leading Belgrade daily Politika described a problem ‘of a somewhat nonsporting nature’.46 The Zagreb delegates arrived with a proposal for drastic reorganisation. In place of the existing centralised body, which, ever since its relocation to Belgrade, had served as a vehicle for inequality and favouritism of Serbian clubs, they laid out a plan for a federal solution. Much like the last-ditch effort of 1929, the proposal envisaged the formation of three independent national football associations: Croatian, Serbian and Slovene. These organisations would control all administrative and financial matters in their jurisdictions, but would be united under an overarching Yugoslav association, structured to ensure that none of its constituent parts could be marginalised. In addition, the Zagreb delegates raised another issue: future international matches were to be distributed equally between Zagreb and Belgrade. Their position enjoyed the backing of the other Croatian sub-associations.47 This radical proposal was far more advanced than prevailing ideas in the political sphere. If implemented, Yugoslav football would be structured in a very different way to the centralised state. While many of the Kingdom’s peoples were not accommodated in the plan, it recognised the equal existence of three distinct nations as well as Croat and Slovene desires for a greater say in their own affairs. As delegates gathered in the imposing Chamber of Workers, the radical – and provocative – proposal was at the forefront of their minds. Yet proceedings initially unfolded in a manner befitting the conservatism of the JNS. The assembly dispatched salutatory telegrams to the juvenile King Peter II, Prince Regent Paul, prime minister Milan Stojadinovic´ and other powerful members of the government. The JNS president then addressed the hall with platitudes about the need for sporting youth to stand unanimously above all politics, noting that he hoped the gathering would demonstrate a desire to achieve this.48 The selection of a new slate consumed the rest of the morning, but the impatient Zagreb delegates expressed disinterest until their proposal could be discussed. They had to wait: the session was interrupted to allow the delegates to attend a football match. When the assembly finally resumed its work at five in the afternoon, the gathering caught alight. The proposal was read aloud to the massed delegates. Dr Kraljevic´, president of the ZNP, adopted a conciliatory tone as he took the stand: I greet all delegates in the name of Croatian sports clubs. The Zagreb delegates came here for a fraternal discussion, hoping that

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we will also return home from the assembly in a fraternal manner. We did not come to quibble, but to find a solution that will satisfy us. Our proposal seeks the protection of sporting interests and does not interfere in the interests of other clubs. As regards numbers, you can overpower us, but we have not lost a sense of justice. We resolutely seek an organisation of sport on the basis that renders the favouritism of one side at the expense of the other impossible . . . . Until then our clubs will stick to their demands and look for them to be fulfilled. A failure to respect the opinions and endeavours of Croatian clubs does not equate to the preservation of sporting unity.49 After Kraljevic´ preempted his opponents’ main line of attack, it was clear that the majority were in no mood to compromise. As he stressed that the ZNP ‘condemn every mixing of politics and sport’, peals of laughter rang around the hall. Another ZNP representative rose to his defence: ‘sport is not possible without politics . . . those who talk about the unity of sport are also politicians!’50 Some sympathised with the proposals. The president of the Skopje subassociation tried to chart a course between the Zagreb and Belgrade positions. Some form of restructuring was essential for the JNS’ survival. He pleaded for the assembly to avoid politicising the issue and suggested that they could learn much from the pragmatism of their Slovene counterparts: ‘Let us adopt their methods. We should come to an agreement and settle our differences’. The Slovenes were looking for a compromise: although the ZNP proposal envisaged an independent Slovene association, delegates from Ljubljana deemed it too radical and expensive to support. Instead, they favoured maximum autonomy for the existing sub-associations.51 Despite these conciliatory voices, the mood was overwhelmingly hostile. Serbian delegates lined up to condemn the proposal. The spokesman from Nisˇ accused his Zagreb colleagues of causing widespread offence. They had written off the other delegates as ignorant, simply because they did not share the same opinion. The Krusˇevac delegate, Raka Stanisavljevic´-Milutovac, spoke out in an aggressive tone. He depicted the proposal as an attack against the JNS. For twenty years sportsmen had nurtured the unity of the association: ‘Unfortunately, today we have not heard that the Zagreb delegates are representing Zagreb footballers, but rather something else entirely’. Many greeted Milutovac’s provocative speech, which effectively accused the ZNP of politically motivated separatism, with applause. The targets of his tirade were

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appalled. Unprepared to listen to more abuse, the Zagreb delegation left in protest and the gathering descended into a farce.52 The assembly dispatched a group of peacemakers to the ZNP’s hotel to stress that the majority of the gathering condemned Milutovac’s outburst. While the Croats accepted the apology, however, they refused to return until their demands were met. The JNS assembly continued in their absence and established a committee to formulate a reorganisation that would be acceptable to all. But there was nothing to satisfy the ZNP’s demands for immediate change. Deeply frustrated by the reception in Belgrade, Croatian football officials doubled their efforts. The ZNP organised a meeting of all Croat subassociations. A month after the disastrous JNS assembly representatives from Zagreb, Split and Osijek, alongside delegates from other parts of Yugoslavia with sizeable Croatian populations, gathered to discuss the impasse. The ZNP was given a mandate to continue the battle for their proposal. The movement gathered pace: in April, Croatian clubs withdrew from the Yugoslav Championship and in May, 217 clubs gathered to form the Croatian Sports Harmony (Hrvatska sˇportska sloga, HSˇS) movement in Zagreb.53 Shaped by broader political developments, the HSˇS has been described as the ‘sporting wing’ of the Croatian Peasant Party.54 Croatian delegates boycotted the extraordinary assembly of the JNS, also scheduled for May. In their absence, the JNS expelled all clubs that had joined the HSˇS and escalated the conflict. Once again, Croat players boycotted the Yugoslav national team. As the rift widened over the summer of 1939, clubs came together to form the Croatian Football Association (Hrvatski nogometni savez, HNS) on 6 August.55 These sporting developments unfolded alongside a resumption of political talks on the Croatian question. Concurrently, Slovene teams announced their intention to cooperate closely with the new Croatian organisations. A Croat – Slovene football coalition soon followed. The degree of national harmony among Croatian clubs during this dispute with Belgrade should not be overstated. On the day of the explosive JNS assembly, a match between two of the nation’s leading clubs, Hajduk and Grad¯anski, ended in a mass brawl. A reckless tackle triggered chaotic scenes: we peaceful and objective spectators did not know which of the many boxing matches to watch. Players lying on the pitch were carried away by voluntary medics. On the terrace where the epicentre of one section of Hajduk supporters is located and where Hadjuk flags flutter, a disturbance arose. On the other terrace in

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front of the stand, and in the stand itself, where the other Split supporters were accommodated, the picture was the same. The police, not few in number, lost their heads in the intervention on so many fronts.56 Hajduk’s temperamental Matosˇic´ brothers were at the centre of attention. The elder of the two, Jozo, triggered the melee with a violent tackle, while his younger sibling, Frane, struck an opponent ‘below the stomach with such force that he dropped like a felled tree’. After ten minutes of fighting among players, supporters and the police, the referee abandoned the match. Qualification rounds for the 1939 –40 JNS championship had been scheduled by the time of the Croatian withdrawal, throwing the competition into disarray. Instead, Croatian teams came together with the Slovene Ljubljana Sport Club – a successor of Ilirija – in a ten-team Croat – Slovene league. In the rest of Yugoslavia, a ‘Serbian’ league emerged from a hastily revised qualification process. The geographical reach of these separate competitions spoke volumes about the difficulty of carving out ethnically based jurisdictions in a complex multi-ethnic state. There was considerable overlap. Both leagues contained teams from Subotica and Sarajevo, while the Serb majority town of Borovo, on the Croatian side of the Danube, competed in the Serbian championship.57 As these competitions got underway, the Yugoslav political landscape changed dramatically. A new government, led by the Serb Dragisˇa Cvetkovic´, finally concluded an Agreement (Sporazum) with Macˇek and the Croats. From 26 August 1939, Yugoslavia encompassed a Banovina Hrvatska (Province of Croatia) with broad autonomy. This ended any prospect of nurturing an integral Yugoslav identity in the interwar state. The main sticking points to the agreement were the territorial division of the country and fears of the Serb nationalist response. The latter were well founded. With a population that was three-quarters Catholic (Croat), the Croatian Banovina quickly became a state within a state, sparking rival claims for the establishment of autonomous units for Serbs, Slovenes and Bosnia’s Muslim community. As in football, there was considerable territorial overlap in these claims, but the federalisation of the country was underway.58 Belgrade’s clubs were unhappy about the prospect of competing in a league lacking the lucrative attraction of the best Croatian teams. Before the Sporazum came into effect, representatives of BSK and Jugoslavija travelled to Zagreb for secret talks. By the end of September, with the added impetus of direct political pressure to resolve the sporting dispute, this initiative finally resulted in a separate football sporazum.59 The outcome was far more

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advanced than the political settlement and was largely based on the ZNP proposal that provoked the crisis in the first place. In October 1939, the dysfunctional JNS liquidated itself and was replaced by the Supreme Football Association of Yugoslavia (Vrhovni nogometni savez Jugoslavije, VNSJ). This new body, which did not have a permanent headquarters, brought together three independent national associations (Serb, Croat and Slovene). Slovene and Serbian football thus achieved political and territorial autonomy before their respective nations. Yet, like its defunct predecessor, the new organisation failed to acknowledge separate Macedonian, Bosnian and Montenegrin identities, among others. As in the political sphere, the head of the VNSJ was a Serb and the vice-president a Croat. Yugoslavia’s international matches were to be distributed equally across the three national associations. It was a revolutionary settlement which went well beyond that agreed by Cvetkovic´ and Macˇek. It is likely that, had the Kingdom of Yugoslavia survived beyond 1941, a similar arrangement – including autonomous Slovene and Serb territories – would have followed at the state level. The resolution ensured there would be a state champion in the 1939 –40 season. The top three clubs from the Croat –Slovene and Serbian leagues contested a final round of matches and Grad¯anski Zagreb emerged victorious.60 To some extent, the new national associations reflected the complex political settlement. The HNS expanded with the new borders of the Croatian Banovina, as Bosnian towns including Mostar and Travnik fell under its jurisdiction.61 Yet in both politics and football, many of Yugoslavia’s citizens were not satisfied with the new divisions. The first VNSJ Statute acknowledged a special status for particular clubs seeking to join national associations to which they did not belong on a territorial basis. Having both competed in the Croat – Slovene League, Bacˇka Subotica and SASˇK Sarajevo opted to join the HNS rather than its Serbian counterpart. Clubs with explicit Serbian identities that found themselves in the new Croatian Banovina refused to accept the jurisdiction of the HNS and were permitted to join ‘their own’ national association. At the same time, many Serbs living in this territory gravitated towards support for the leading Belgrade clubs.62 Macˇek and his party transformed their Banovina into a ‘quasi-nationstate’. New national bodies proliferated, as the ‘Yugoslav’ prefix was replaced with ‘Croatian’ instead.63 Many of the Banovina’s football clubs also abandoned what had been the obligatory ‘Yugoslav’ element of their names and embraced the Croatian identity.64 The HNS organised international matches and, although the Banovina remained part of

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Yugoslavia, the Croatian national team played Switzerland and Hungary both home and away during 1940.65 Plans for the 1940 –1 season reflected the new structure. With their own national association, the Slovenes withdrew from the joint league with Croatian teams to form their own competition. Once the three national leagues were completed, the top placed clubs would come together to play a final federal tournament to determine the Yugoslav champion.66 Just as the state’s intractable internal instability – political and sporting – improved, foreign relations nosedived. Throughout the 1930s, Yugoslavia fostered ever-closer economic ties with Nazi Germany. The country initially managed to avoid entry into World War II, but, by the spring of 1941, it was surrounded by Germany, Italy and their allies. Under immense pressure, the Cvetkovic´ government signed the Tripartite Pact in March.67 This deeply unpopular move sparked street demonstrations across the country, with defiant citizens shouting ‘better war than the Pact!’ In much of Croatia the reaction was muted, but Hajduk’s first team joined the demonstrators thronging Split’s promenade.68 These scenes prompted a military coup and the renouncing of the Pact, which in turn guaranteed war with a furious Germany. Ten days later, Luftwaffe bombs rained down on Belgrade. The first Yugoslav experiment – in both state-building and football – came to a sudden and definitive end. There would be no Yugoslav champion in 1941. While the summit of the interwar game was characterised by discord, disputes, and infighting, at its roots a more subversive form of dissatisfaction festered. What might otherwise have been a footnote in interwar football, the significance of humble workers’ clubs would become apparent amid the carnage of World War II.

Sowing the Seed: The Workers’ Game and the KPJ Simple stone houses, their windows framed with dark green shutters, line narrow Plinarska (Gas Works) Street. Close to the ancient centre of Split, the nearby National Theatre dwarfs these modest dwellings. The street is scarcely wide enough to accommodate the tired TAM trucks that can still be seen sputtering across the former Yugoslavia. Amid this quiet urban scene, a tiny hammer and sickle adorns a half-forgotten stone plaque, mounted on the facade of number seven. Like other surviving communist symbols in Croatia, it is periodically defaced with graffiti.69 The tablet, erected in 1972, is discoloured by the fumes of an adjacent airconditioning unit, but it is still possible to read that the Split Workers’

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Football Club (Radnicˇki nogometni klub, RNK) was founded here in 1912. Tracing the club’s history back so far requires a conscious effort to find continuity in a string of interwar teams, hampered by enforced abolition, mergers and expedient name changes in the face of government repression. Nevertheless, there was direct continuity in terms of the players and administrators who migrated each time a team faced closure.70 Something else happened here in sleepy Plinarska, however. Though not honoured with a plaque, it underlines the close relationship between workers’ football and interwar communism. When the Kingdom held its inaugural election in 1920, the Communist Party of Yugoslavia (Komunisticˇka partija Jugoslavije, KPJ) emerged as the third largest party in the national parliament (though it received the fourth highest number of votes after Radic´’s Peasants). Campaigning on a platform of national unity, the communists won 58 of 419 seats. This was remarkable given the Kingdom’s modest ‘proletariat’; 79 per cent of the population were peasants. The KPJ performed well in southern areas, where the three named ‘tribes’ were largely absent, as well as in larger cities with significant proletariats. In Split, the Party won 36 per cent of the vote.71 Workers’ organisations, including dozens of sports clubs, thrived in these industrial centres. Though by no means all of communist persuasion, many of their members engaged in workers’ politics and trade union organisations. Jug (South), a predecessor of RNK Split, was one such club. Originally called Anarh (Anarchist), idealistic schoolboys established the team just before World War I. It adopted the less politically freighted name Jug in 1919 following police intervention.72 The Communist Party’s promising debut was short-lived. Its deputies walked out of parliament in protest at the ‘ruling bourgeoisie’s’ efforts to force through the Vidovdan Constitution. As they departed, they declared the Party’s intention to overthrow ‘the present brutal, violent, and bloody regime’. The KPJ operated legally for a few months afterwards, though the government enacted legislation to curtail grassroots communist agitation. The repressive Proclamation (Obznana) of December 1920 was motivated by genuine fears of a communist threat in the aftermath of revolutions in Russia and Hungary.73 In July 1921, a communist gunman assassinated the hated Minister of Internal Affairs, Milorad Drasˇkovic´, the man behind the Proclamation. It sparked a backlash against communism across the country. The authorities turned a blind eye as vigilantes rampaged.74 The day after the assassination, demonstrators in Split vandalised the homes of local communists before moving on to Plinarska to confront a group of workers.

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A riot ensued, youths using stones, bars and even revolvers against one another. When the police intervened, they did so against the workers, enabling vigilantes to attack Jug’s offices. They trashed the premises and set them alight. In a fiercely anti-communist atmosphere, communist sympathisers were subsequently blamed for the disorder. Dozens were arrested, convicted and imprisoned.75 The police branded Jug a threat to public order and outlawed it. Jug’s adherents were already on the radar. Four months earlier, the city’s leading newspaper attacked the club and stood in defence of ‘bourgeois’ Hajduk. At a time when borders, national identities and political orientations were in an extremely fluid state, the mass appeal of Croation nationalism astonished communists: One section of the local public looks down on Hajduk members for party political reasons . . . . Because national elements gather around the club, local communists hate it: the club is a thorn in their side. On the other hand, the local Jug club consists of followers of the Communist Party, and communists support it. Hajduk is better than Jug, so for Jug members and local communists – who see in Jug their offspring [cˇedo], a part of themselves, and of their Party – this hatred is understandable . . . . Does it give them the right, before every match, to provoke the peaceful crowd, who come to the ground to watch the game, and not to listen to their provocations?76 Within days of the assassination, parliament enacted more anticommunist legislation and outlawed the Party. The Law for the Defence of Public Security and Order in the State forced the KPJ underground. Riven by internal feuds and hounded by the authorities, communists were unprepared for a clandestine struggle and their revolutionary threat dissipated.77 For nearly two decades, the Kingdom’s labour movement was a patchwork of state-backed organisations and trade unions, small political parties and clandestine communist activities. All forces that jostled for the attention of workers were active within the internal politics of individual workers’ football clubs. Indeed, the power struggles within them were a reflection of the turbulent labour movement.78 Although weak for much of the period, communists operated illegally throughout the interwar years. Party members attempted to infiltrate legal organisations and establish new ones. In a repressive state where legal opportunities to express workingclass solidarity were few and far between, workers’ football clubs were an attractive opportunity. Communist involvement fluctuated with the political

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situation and the KPJ’s own internal struggles, but the Party gained precarious footholds in clubs across the Kingdom. In the year that the KPJ was outlawed, the Second Congress of the Communist Youth International in Moscow pressed for the establishment of legal organisations for young workers. These were to operate in parallel with the illegal communist apparatus. Responding to this call, the League of Communist Youth of Yugoslavia (Savez komunisticˇke omladine Jugoslavije, SKOJ), the KPJ’s youth wing, ensured that musical, cultural and sporting organisations emerged in the early 1920s. The illegal Party reached similar conclusions at its 1924 conference, when delegates stressed the need to increase KPJ influence in ‘all other workers’ institutions and, via sport, artistic and cultural associations, spread the idea of proletarian class struggle’.79 A number of pioneering workers’ clubs already existed. In addition to the outlawed Jug, these included Proleter (Proletarian), established in Zagreb in 1919, and Radnicˇki (Workers’) Belgrade, formed in 1920. The latter’s president, senior SKOJ figure Cˇedomir Kuzmic´, was among the delegates at the Third Congress of the Communist Sport International, held in Moscow in 1924.80 The Party, SKOJ and associated trade unions assisted these clubs. In Mostar, the KPJ formed a club directly after the 1921 crackdown. As all workers’ organisations were proscribed, a member of the Party’s Central Committee proposed that a sports club would enable Mostar’s workers to gather, and serve as a base for the revolutionary struggle. Named Velezˇ, the club was destined to play a prominent role in the Party’s history.81 As these pioneering teams established a foothold in the game, their members nurtured similar organisations elsewhere. Belgrade’s Radnicˇki assisted the Mladi Radnik (Young Worker) club in the central Serbian town of Kragujevac. When the latter blossomed, its members in turn helped to establish Sloboda (Freedom) in nearby Uzˇice.82 Almost all of these teams played in iconic red shirts with the five-pointed communist star ( petokraka) on their chests. Workers’ tournaments, long trips to friendly matches and joint efforts to improve the lot of workers’ and peasants’ clubs enabled close relationships to flourish. Such encounters were not always smooth, but on the whole these organisations provided an environment in which workers could fraternise, while being exposed to new ideas, education and culture. Workers’ clubs played a crucial role for embattled communists. They enabled the illegal KPJ to reach their proletarian constituency and continue the fight against the ‘capitalist yoke’.83 Communists were directly involved in the administration of workers’ football from the outset. Zagreb dentist and KPJ member Milan Milanovic´ served on the

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boards of, and acted as president for, several of the city’s football clubs in the 1920s and 1930s.84 Milanovic´ and other sports administrators realised that, while individual clubs served the interests of the local proletariat, they would need to coordinate their efforts to make their voices heard at the national level. In 1925, SKOJ’s Central Committee organised a Zagreb conference dedicated to communist sport. Delegates agreed that sport needed to be a constituent part of the revolutionary struggle. They also stressed the need to counter the ‘neutral orientation of sport, which the ruling bourgeoisie stands for via its representatives in the various sports organisations and associations’.85 For them, sport was inherently political. Elsewhere, representatives of Slovene workers’ sport reached broadly similar conclusions. As in the political sphere, working-class athletes needed to unite to defend their interests: The first workers’ sport conference recognises that the creation of a workers’ sport organisation for the whole of Yugoslavia is sorely needed. The bourgeois Yugoslav [Football] Association is not an organisation of worker sportsmen, but an organisation of chauvinist nationalists – students and enemies of the working class. Its events and competitions for various trophies . . . are not only not in the interest of ‘sport’, they are a parade of reaction and chauvinism. Such parades do not correspond to workers’ feelings of solidarity and collectivism.86 The result of these initiatives was the Block of Yugoslav Workers’ Clubs (Blok radnicˇkih klubova Jugoslavije, BRKJ), formed in 1926. A meeting of Croat, Serb and Slovene delegates fleshed out its objectives and much of the Block’s programme focused on securing rights and equality for workers’ clubs: Bourgeois sport has an objective to, under the veil of neutrality and an apolitical stance, draw under its influence an ever-greater part of the working youth, to cultivate them there under the influence of their ideology and to disengage them from the class struggle of the proletariat in this way. What is more, they want to make them into a weapon of their own class interests . . . . The task of the proletarian sports movement is to gather under its wing all worker-sportsmen and, alongside physical, sporting education, to educate them in the class mentality and to awaken in them feelings of class solidarity87

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Delegates recognised the complexity of this task. The JNS, ‘under the leadership of economically powerful bourgeois clubs’, contained both workers’ and ‘bourgeois’ teams. Even the majority of the latter were described as ‘working class in terms of their social composition’. The same could be said for their supporters. As the confrontation between Hajduk and Jug showed, in sport as in politics, strong national allegiances and the political persuasions of the Kingdom’s citizens caused deep frustration for communist activists. The establishment of the Block was therefore a necessity to ‘emancipate the workers’ sport movement’, and constituted another milestone in the project of uniting the working masses ‘on all fronts’.88 The extent to which those masses were aware of this need is a moot point, but football – above all other sports – was deemed an ideal vehicle for cultivating such awareness. Though unfolding on a small scale, with limited resources – and dwarfed by so-called ‘bourgeois’ organisations – the Block was indicative of the interest which communists and other leftleaning political groupings showed in interwar workers’ football.89 Despite the establishment of an overarching body and efforts to ensure that workers’ clubs were fairly treated, police repression continued. While suppressing communism as a political force, the authorities were aware of the link between this subversive ideology and football. In Split, the successors of Jug were hounded in subsequent years. A string of clubs rose and fell in the process.90 Yet, each time the state targeted a politically undesirable team another emerged in its place. Insecurity characterised the lower levels of the game, but administrations and players grew increasingly skillful at avoiding unwanted attention, as they dabbled in illegal and semilegal political activities. All over Yugoslavia, periodic scuffles broke out between the police and the players and supporters of these workers’ clubs. On occasion, the authorities raided club meetings.91 Communist activists were so prevalent that club boards were thrown into disarray when coordinated police operations led to mass arrests. In 1927, several Radnicˇki Belgrade members were arrested in an apartment raid. Inside, they had been printing the Mladi boljsˇevik (Young Bolshevik) journal. Prosecuted via the Law for the Defence of Public Security, three of them received five-year prison terms.92 The extent of police interference depended upon the political situation at any given time, and the upheaval of the late 1920s heralded a new wave of repression against workers’ clubs. While the 6 January Dictatorship indirectly aided the relocation of the JNS and aggravated relations in ‘bourgeois’ football, it directly affected workers’ sport. King Aleksandar’s proclamation triggered a wave of repression against communists and the

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legal organisations which harboured them. Suffering the same fate as the Croatian Sokol and Slovene Orel movements, a number of workers’ clubs were closed, including the latest redoubt for Jug’s beleaguered successors, Dalmacija (Dalmatia). Others were allowed to resume activities after pleading their case with the authorities.93 The state had already dissolved the Block of Yugoslav Workers’ Clubs and a number of its members in the months prior to the proclamation.

Playing Through the Dictatorship Many of the stone buildings on Mostar’s Marshal Tito Street are empty shells. Their lower doors and windows are filled with rough grey breezeblocks, while the upper stories are open to the elements. Roofs, windows and entire facades stood no chance against the artillery bombardments of the early 1990s. The Workers’ Club (Radnicˇki dom) fared better. Riddled with bullet holes, it was patched up after the conflict. A plaque, complete with hammer and sickle, clings to the corner of the building, informing those who care to know of its distant revolutionary past. Velezˇ survived the repression of 1929, but the round-up of communists severely weakened it. The club had harboured KPJ and SKOJ members throughout the 1920s, some of whom visited the Soviet Union for international gatherings. Many members of the Velezˇ team and administration were tortured in custody and imprisoned. The club’s president died shortly after release. During the 1930s, those Party affiliates who avoided arrest used football to attract a new generation of communists. The club also raised money for imprisoned workers and their families. In deciding not to close Velezˇ, the authorities hoped to appease Mostar’s workers. Working-class forces close to the regime, including the Social Democrats, took up club roles, the authorities offered financial assistance and the new Workers’ Club was built at the height of the dictatorship.94 Nevertheless, the KPJ gradually regained control and, by the end of the decade, Velezˇ again constituted a serious threat to the authorities. Hounded by the state and riven with internal quarrels, the 1930s were chaotic for the KPJ. The Party even altered its stance on Yugoslav unity, opting instead to support calls for independent Croatian and Macedonian states. In prisons, leading communist figures cooperated with right-wing nationalist groups.95 As a result of this ideological confusion and organisational chaos, communist influence over workers’ organisations waned. Nevertheless, efforts continued to ensure the survival of clubs

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Figure 2 Radnicˇki dom in Mostar. Velezˇ’s relationship with the building was still evident in 2008, but these relics have since been removed. Author, 2008. tainted by illegality. In an attempt to cope with periodic crackdowns, the boards of workers’ clubs took steps to outwit the police, forming surrogate teams that could be upgraded in the event of action against the primary organisation. Other clubs attempted to avoid sanctions by changing their names, or by establishing entirely new teams before the old ones had been outlawed. In Kragujevac, the upheavals of 1929 led Mladi Radnik to reinvent itself as Radnicˇki, and in 1937, the entire board was arrested as part of a police operation that rounded up 300 KPJ members and sympathisers across the east of the country.96 In 1929 and 1930, another attempt was made to establish an overarching body to protect embattled workers’ clubs. The Workers’ Sports Union (Radnicˇka sportska zajednica, RSZ) quickly spread to encompass teams across Yugoslavia.97 Like the Block, the RSZ was predominantly football focused, with its annual assembly scheduled to take place the day before that of the JNS. It was able to exert some influence: as RSZ president, Radnicˇki Kragujevac’s Mihajlo Ivesˇa became a prominent voice of workers’ clubs. Speaking on behalf of his Serbian constituency, Ivesˇa told the 1933 JNS

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assembly that the ‘Yugoslav Football Association needs to protect workers’ clubs from the persecution of police governments’.98 Ivesˇa and another leading member of the RSZ, the communist Milan Milanovic´, were even elected to the JNS board during the 1930s. Yet, like other legal labour organisations, the RSZ was divided by infighting and power struggles.99 Although few workers’ clubs rose to trouble the summit of Yugoslav football as a result of political instability and limited financial resources, those that did encountered fierce resistance. RSˇK (Radnicˇki sˇportski klub, Workers’ Sport Club) Split – the successor of Jug and Borac – qualified for the 1934 national championship, only to be denied the opportunity when quarreling between the leading clubs resulted in a last-minute change of format. Many RSˇK members were convinced this was a deliberate ploy to deny access to workers’ clubs. Years later, one of the club’s youth team players, Ljubomir Kokeza, described the affair as the ‘machinations of antiworker elements within the Yugoslav Football Association’.100 By the late 1930s, the close relationship between football and communism was increasingly clear to both the public and authorities. This was not lost on the Party itself. As a major arms producer with a large proletariat, the Yugoslav authorities closely monitored Kragujevac. When the local Party organisation assessed the town’s legal and illegal workers’ bodies for the Central Committee of the KPJ in 1936, they underlined Radnicˇki’s symbolic role: The majority of players and supporters [of SK Radnicˇki] are from workers’ circles. Indeed, here demonstrations of class and solidarity are performed through the expression of sympathy for Radnicˇki Sport Club. To support Radnicˇki is not merely a sporting opinion, it is also political. ‘Our colours’, even the wearing of red shirts . . . is a synonym for ‘I am a communist’ . . . . In the town, membership of Radnicˇki Sport Club is identified as belonging to the communists.101 Three years later, the state suppressed the team’s new emblem, a red fivepointed star. For the local authorities, it was ‘a purely communist badge . . . . The Prefecture believes that giving prominence to such an emblem is forbidden by law and that it should no longer be tolerated’.102 As communists strengthened their positions in workers’ clubs, the latter blossomed into bastions of labour activities: ranging across the political, educational and cultural. Admittedly, for most youths engaged in these teams, football was the primary motivation. Recalling his time at RSˇK

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Split, Kokeza explains that the club’s young players received a tailored education: It was there that I had the opportunity to hear about Marx, Engels and Lenin for the first time, and – to be honest – at the time it was not clear to me what that all had to do with sport. However, I felt those meetings had a purpose, and the advised secrecy emphasised their importance to me.103 In Zagreb, Metalac (Metalworker) was so active in off-field work that it came to be known as the ‘Workers’ Faculty’.104 While the significance of the lessons may not have been immediately apparent to pupils, such exposure inculcated a political awareness from an early stage. Alongside dry political classes, the prohibition of cultural organisations inspired football clubs to form cultural sections of their own. These groups performed revolutionary plays, satirical sketches and songs about the Spanish Civil War. They were directly connected with the football teams, travelling alongside them to away matches and performing as part of postmatch fraternisation. These activities came under close police scrutiny; specific plays were banned and clubs were denied permission to hold public events.105 The sanctions for disseminating communist ideas were draconian. In 1938, a citizen of Uzˇice wrote to the Ministry of the Interior to complain that ‘Bolsheviks’ were exploiting the town’s Grad¯anski club to indoctrinate young people. Taking the matter seriously, the Ministry’s Department for State Security wrote to the regional authorities and ordered an investigation. They were particularly concerned that communists had converted local high school pupils to the revolutionary cause: This communist action and propaganda is highly developed in the Grad¯anski football club, in which almost all of the individuals identified above are members and functionaries. The club is in their hands. Via these individuals pupils at the high school get hold of communist material to read, and young supporters of communism meet with these individuals on the promenade and in cafe´s on the outskirts of town day in day out.106 The subsequent police report concluded that politically subversive types already known to the authorities had infiltrated the club:

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All things considered, the club is being managed by individuals convicted because of communism, those who have been questioned about it, or those whom the government suspects. So it is the Prefecture’s opinion that the club should be dissolved and all future activities prohibited.107 The authorities disbanded Grad¯anski in the spring of 1939 and the police arrested a board member. Like so many teams on the Department for State Security’s radar, Grad¯anski was a successor of another workers’ club. Seven years earlier, the police wound up Sloboda Uzˇice because some of its functionaries had behaved ‘against the state and political order through their illegal (communist) work’.108 Aside from efforts to educate and entertain youths and workers, clubs and their members also engaged in direct political action. The Spanish Civil War provided the greatest stimulus. Like their counterparts across the continent, hundreds of Yugoslav youths rallied in defence of the Spanish Republic. Eminent sportsmen as well as many members of humble workers’ clubs were among those who travelled to the Iberian Peninsula. These teams were a reservoir for Yugoslavia’s legendary ‘Spanish fighters’.109 Clubs raised funds for, and supported the families of, those volunteering in the international brigades. Radnicˇki Belgrade’s Mirko Kovacˇevic´ was among the more prominent players to take up arms, while Ivan Brijacˇek – arrested in the 1927 round up – fell in Spain. At home, their team took a substantial risk by taking to the pitch in black armbands following news of Radnicˇki member Todor Misˇic´’s death.110 When Radnicˇki Kragujevac visited a workers’ club in Nisˇ in 1936, local supporters greeted them with cheers of ‘Advance, Reds’ and ‘Advance, the defenders of Madrid!’111 RSˇK Split matches served as a front enabling Spanish volunteers to traverse Yugoslavia and depart via the Adriatic, under the guise of being visiting supporters.112 The exploits of members who fought and died in this early struggle against fascism became a source of great pride for clubs across the country in subsequent decades. With the formation of the Croatian Banovina in 1939, the Croatian Peasant Party realised popular aspirations for Croatian autonomy. However, they failed to address debilitating economic and social problems. As sections of the population became increasingly sympathetic towards the communists, Croatia’s autonomous government used brutal police methods against their political opponents.113 In December 1939, after the authorities had banned all public gatherings, Split’s workers staged a mass demonstration on the city’s promenade. The Croatian Peasant Party authorised the police to

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use force to disperse the demonstrators and Vicko Buljanovic´ was killed when officers opened fire. A worker and a communist, this latest victim of state violence was a member of RSˇK Split. In an attempt to avoid further unrest, the police buried Buljanovic´ in the middle of the night. The following day, communists called a general strike and thousands of workers embarked on a symbolic funeral procession through the city. RSˇK footballers and other mourners carried Buljanovic´’s photograph and wreaths in defiance of police repression.114 Elsewhere, players busied themselves with illegal Party activity. Rato Dugonjic´, who played for several Sarajevo clubs in the 1930s, rose to prominence as a communist in the subsequent revolution. His playing career greatly assisted underground work: As a footballer I travelled often . . . I had the capability to transport material and directives entirely securely. In Zagreb my contact was Ivan Milutinovic´, and in Belgrade I got the material from Svetozar Vukmanovic´-Tempo. I would normally pack copies of the [KPJ’s] Proleter newspaper in a suitcase with a false bottom, with my football kit above. I sat on the train and we played cards on the suitcase . . . . Who is going to inspect a footballer’s suitcase?115 In this way, the game facilitated the distribution of illegal Party literature throughout the Kingdom. Party members in the Yugoslav national team used the privilege of foreign travel for similar exploits. After a 1937 match against Czechoslovakia in Prague, Ivica Medaric´ smuggled hefty volumes of Lenin’s works into Yugoslavia.116 Dugonjic´’s Belgrade contact, Vukmanovic´-Tempo – who rose to the highest echelons of the Party – was no lover of football. Nevertheless, his Party obligations brought him into regular contact with workers’ clubs. Josip Broz Tito’s rise to the summit of the KPJ in 1937 marked the beginning of a period of consolidation. Finally in a position to put debilitating struggles behind it, the KPJ – once again in favour of a united Yugoslavia, albeit on a federal basis – strengthened across the country. Its influence on workers’ clubs increased accordingly. At the end of 1938, Vukmanovic´-Tempo visited Kragujevac to stimulate Party activity. As part of his visit, he met with officials from the football club and gave practical advice on reorganisation that would facilitate covert KPJ work: the club elected a new board, relocated to new premises and established a progressive library of legal and illegal publications. When Vukmanovic´-Tempo returned a year later, he congratulated club administrators on these

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accomplishments, and many of them were admitted to the Party as a result.117 To aid the spread of communist influence, individual footballer – communists were sometimes instructed to transfer to other teams, including those founded upon an exclusive national basis. Players with deep emotional and political attachments to workers’ clubs complied with heavy hearts.118 Communist activity was not limited to the self-declared workers’ clubs. By the end of the 1930s, Yugoslavia’s biggest teams contained active SKOJ and KPJ members. Following his move to Hajduk, Kokeza joined the Party’s youth wing, like many of his teammates.119 Club administrations were closely entwined with the bourgeois politics of the day, but idealistic players were aware of, and in many cases direct participants in, subversive communist activities. Some of the biggest names in the Yugoslav game actively opposed the dictatorship. Milutin Ivkovic´ was one of Jugoslavija’s best players and a regular feature in the national team. He starred in the highly successful World Cup squad of 1930. A prominent voice of the left, Ivkovic´ qualified as a doctor and later served as editor of Mladost (Youth) magazine, the legal voice of SKOJ.120 Spanish Civil War pilot Bosˇko Petrovic´ was killed over the Iberian Peninsula in 1937. Before his departure, he also played for the Yugoslav national team, as well as club sides Jugoslavija, Grad¯anski and Vojvodina.121 After the revolution, these individuals would serve as the basis for a retrospective recasting of the ‘bourgeois’ identities of Vojvodina and Hajduk. The authorities were most concerned, however, by the revolutionary potential of workers’ clubs. By autumn 1940, the Velezˇ communists were again in a position to cause considerable disruption in Mostar. They organised demonstrations, the biggest of which took place on the first anniversary of the Nazi invasion of Poland. At the final whistle of Velezˇ’s match against Crna Gora (Montenegro) Podgorica, a large crowd regrouped on the streets outside and made its way towards the town centre. It was an anti-fascist demonstration against hostilities elsewhere in Europe, but the Yugoslav authorities were the primary target. Protestors voiced their concern over deepening ties with the Axis, weak defensive preparations, the prevailing politics and the worsening material situation for workers. The slogans were eclectic: ‘Down with Fascism!’, ‘Long live the USSR!’, ‘Down with tyranny!’ and ‘We want bread and work!’ When they reached the Neretva River, which slices the town in half, armed police confronted the demonstrators from the far side of the bridge. They fired warning salvos before charging at and dispersing the advancing crowd. That night the authorities arrested known labour activists.122

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Police brutality and the arrests that followed provoked a Mostar workers’ general strike. Tobacco factory employees, miners and textile workers all downed tools as strikers gathered at the Workers’ Club. Police surrounded the building and in the crackdown that ensued, communist-dominated trade unions and cultural organisations were forcibly disbanded. After eighteen years of sporting and political activity, Velezˇ was wound up by the state. Senior members were among those arrested and imprisoned in the Lepoglava camp. Members of RSˇK Split, imprisoned without trial for labour militancy, were fellow inmates. When World War II swept across Yugoslav soil and the camp fell into the hands of fascists, members of both clubs were murdered there.123 In the heightened repression of the immediate pre-war period, Yugoslavia’s other workers’ teams suffered similar fates. In January 1941, the RSZ and all affiliated clubs were banned.124 Few of the members of these proscribed organisations could have dreamed that the KPJ would rule Yugoslavia in the name of the working class by the middle of the decade. But the intervening years, in many respects a ‘logical continuation’ of the interwar struggle,125 would be hell. Hundreds of them would not live to taste the fruits of the revolution. *** The insoluble problems of the interwar Kingdom were reflected in, and exacerbated by, football. Though many of the governing bodies, competitions and leading football clubs looked very different to their communist successors, there was much in the way of continuity. Football grounds, personnel and rivalries of the early communist years blossomed out of these royal antecedents. Moreover, many of the divisions and problems that blighted the post-1945 game were inherited from this first attempt to build a Yugoslav state and cohesive football competitions. Decades later, the secretary of Grad¯anski Zagreb recalled the end of the Kingdom’s football championship. The second round was scheduled for 6 April 1941: I remember that at around 7am on that morning the team and leadership of . . . Grad¯anski . . . should have travelled to Ljubljana for a championship match. The meeting point was the Central Railway Station in Zagreb. But, instead of that, we returned to our homes. World War II had begun.126

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Some of Yugoslavia’s elite clubs enjoyed a temporary stay of execution when the Nazi invasion tore the country apart, but the upheaval of World War II ultimately brought about the destruction of the interwar game and the majority of its biggest teams. By contrast, the rupture of the 1940s thrust suppressed workers’ clubs and their members to the fore. Though the significance of their interwar histories were embellished during the communist years, there is little doubt that the bitter experiences of the dictatorship left these organisations and their members well placed to offer resistance to foreign occupiers and domestic opponents alike.

CHAPTER 2 LIBERATION FOOTBALL, 1941—5

A heavy leather ball gathers dust on a shelf behind the bar. Nestled among the spirits, deflated and worn, it is the most intriguing object in this seedy back alley establishment on the Adriatic island of Vis. Although shrunken in form and now little more than a relic of a failed state and a discredited ideology, it once heralded a bright new dawn in the western Balkans. Football contributed much to the formation of the second Yugoslavia during the fratricidal chaos of World War II. The close relationship between the Communist Party and the game blossomed on Vis. The ball, from a defining wartime match in the Italian port of Bari that emphatically underlined the game’s importance to the new Yugoslavia, was triumphantly carried back to the island. On Vis, the upper echelons of the embattled partisan resistance openly embraced the game as a propaganda tool. From here, ‘Tito’s footballers’ embarked on an extensive wartime tour of liberated territories around the Mediterranean, flying the flag of the emergent communist-led, multi-ethnic state against Allied teams full of elite professionals.1 Before turning to these heady events and the proud days of liberation football, it is necessary to explore the trauma of invasion, occupation and resistance. Football was never far from the action.

Invasion and Occupation Kragujevac, an industrial town in central Serbia, is a world away from Vis. The long avenue, named ‘Kragujevac October’, runs towards the periphery, past nondescript buildings and neat parks. The town’s bustle recedes as the

LIBERATION FOOTBALL, 1941 –5

Figure 3

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A protagonist in Yugoslavia’s revolution. Vis. Author, 2016.

buildings peter out, giving way to open meadows and recreational facilities. There are few clues to inform the visitor of the street’s traumatic past. Off to one side, the banked oval terracing of the Radnicˇki (Workers’) club’s postwar stadium is easy to miss: sunk into its surroundings, it blends into the greenery. Beyond the stadium, the street ends abruptly, confronting the visitor with the stark, windowless form of a museum and a vast memorial park. In October 1941, thousands of the town’s male inhabitants were executed here in Nazi reprisals.2 Hundreds of schoolboys were among the dead, as were a large number of Radnicˇki members. Beyond the stadium gates, a bronze plaque is mounted on a slab of rough concrete. The names of 92 players and officials who were ‘killed, shot, or died in camps’ are cast in a miniscule font. A leading voice for interwar workers’ sport, Mihajlo Ivesˇa, is among them. In late September 1941, five months after the Nazi destruction of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, communist partisans used Radnicˇki’s interwar ground as a base for a guerrilla attack on the town’s railway station. The occupying forces suffered losses, leading the German command to order the immediate destruction of the ground’s terraces and fences. Versed in dissident activity, the club was unwilling to let the Germans carry out their

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punishment. Players, officials and supporters demolished the ground themselves, selling the materials and donating the proceeds to charity.3 As the austere plaque records, in the four brutal years that followed, members of Radnicˇki – and dozens of other workers’ clubs across the country – would serve and fall in the resistance. By September 1941, many had already done so. Weakened by political chaos and dictatorship, and still grappling with the consequences of the Croatian Sporazum, the troubled Kingdom rapidly succumbed to the Axis onslaught that began on 6 April. As bombs rained down on Belgrade and its stadiums, Yugoslavia disappeared from the map of wartime Europe, replaced by a patchwork of annexations, occupied territories and puppet states (see Map 2). The Kingdom’s football clubs had to fend for themselves in these improvised and precarious new polities.4 The largest beneficiary of the invasion was the Independent State of Croatia (Nezavisna drzˇava Hrvatska, NDH), established by the Axis. Ante Pavelic´’s Ustasˇa, a tiny right-wing terrorist organisation, was placed in charge of a state that covered much of modern Croatia, all of Bosnia & Hercegovina and part of Serbia. The chauvinist Ustasˇa ruled through terror, turning the state apparatus against its large Serb population, as well as Jews, Roma and those Croats deemed disloyal. Lacking widespread support, the NDH was soon paralysed by its murderous policies. Nevertheless, football was harnessed as a shortcut to legitimacy. The NDH national team played Germany in Vienna on 15 June 1941; just one month later, the incipient state was officially recognised by FIFA, world football’s governing body. Domestically, Zagreb’s leading clubs – Grad¯anski, HASˇK and Concordia – formed the core of the NDH league. The other participants emphasised the extent of the new state’s borders. SASˇK Sarajevo and Zrinjski Mostar represented the newly acquired Bosnian territories, with their diverse Muslim, Serb and Croat populations.5 Despite the close relationship between Catholicism and Croatian national identity, the Ustasˇa regime embraced Bosnia’s large Muslim population, rebranding it the ‘flower of the Croatian nation’.6 This was another means of staking a claim to lands between the Dinaric Mountains and the Drina River. The last-minute inclusion of an additional team in the league – Victoria Zemun – underlined the fact that the new, independent Croatia extended to the suburbs of Serbian Belgrade. Individual footballers served to reinforce this new ideology. Ustasˇa theoreticians thought that successful athletes would make brave and resilient soldiers. The Ustasˇa revered players who embraced and died for the new regime. Many made the ultimate sacrifice for the NDH. Among them

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were former stars of the Zagreb – and Yugoslav – game, Slavin Cindric´ and Antun Illik. In terms of iconography, ‘football players, with their warrior values on the field of battle, team ethos, and pride in the nation, encapsulated the values of the new state’.7 Beyond lauding sporting martyrs, it was impossible to attend an NDH league match without observing ostentatious fascist rituals. Before kick-off, match officials and teams lined up on the pitch, made the fascist salute and chanted the NDH’s slogan. It was a highly coordinated process: ‘The greeting is carried out in such a manner that, on the referee’s shout of “FOR THE HOMELAND”, everybody replies by raising the right hand, aslant towards the sky, with the cry “READY”’. The referee was also obliged to bring each match to a halt, so as to lead a minute’s silence ‘in honour of those who have fallen for the Independent State of Croatia. Respect is paid with a raised hand in the “Attention” [Pozor] position’. The opening ritual was repeated at full-time, while all official correspondence between governing bodies and clubs signed off with the phrase ‘Ready for the Homeland!’8 Like all other aspects of society, NDH clubs were remodeled to emphasise Croatian identity and to ensure the exclusion of the ethnically impure other. By June 1941, the local Ustasˇa were formulating plans to purify the game in multi-ethnic Banja Luka, in northern Bosnia. For them, Serb and Jewish influence tainted the city’s clubs during the 1930s. Under the ‘new order’, Jews, Serbs and communists would be banned from sport.9 As a whole, the explicit politicisation of NDH football laid hundreds of players open to accusations of collaboration. Moreover, the destabilising violence that characterised the regime – embodied by the notorious Jasenovac death camp and the burning alive of hundreds of Serbs in Glina’s Orthodox church – drove thousands into resistance movements, hindered administration of the NDH and frustrated Axis sponsors. This instability was reflected in the fact that the inaugural 1941– 2 football championship was abandoned at the halfway stage. There was also a more direct impact: prior to the aforementioned church massacre, hundreds of Glina’s male inhabitants had been murdered in a mass killing, including eleven members of the town’s multi-ethnic football team. The club’s Croatian president, an Ustasˇa member, had a hand in their fate.10 What was left of neighbouring Serbia, the so-called ‘Serbian residual state’, came under German occupation and a quisling regime. Like its Croatian sibling, it was fragile from the outset, not least because two separate resistance movements – the communist-led partisans and Drazˇa Mihailovic´’s Cˇetniks, Greater Serbian nationalists drawn from the remnants of the defeated Royalist Army – destabilised vast swathes of its territory.

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Though shattered, undernourished and crippled by the deluge of refugees from the chaotic NDH, Belgrade was not without football for long. The giants of the interwar game, BSK and Jugoslavija, played just a month after the devastating bombing raids. A large crowd, including hundreds of German soldiers, gathered at BSK’s patched-up ground for what was optimistically billed as the ‘first postwar match between the two rivals’.11 Jugoslavija’s patriotic name was a provocative anachronism in these new circumstances, so the club was rechristened – for the second time – as ‘SK [Sport Club] 1913’. Even Ljubomir Vukadinovic´’s celebration of the Belgrade rivalry, published in 1943, adroitly avoided reference to the discarded name throughout its retrospective on the interwar years.12 By the end of May 1941, the Summer Cup of Serbia was underway, encompassing teams from Belgrade and nearby Pancˇevo. As in the NDH, although many clubs continued to function, they did so ‘cleansed’ of their Jewish and Roma members. The fact that many players and administrators who had been mobilised by the ill-fated Kingdom found themselves in captivity also weakened clubs.13 Logistical difficulties and revolt in the centre and south, along with the murderous reactions of the occupiers – embodied by the Kragujevac massacre – ruled out the emergence of a Serbian national league for the duration of the war. Nevertheless, plans for such a competition, with two regional groups, were drawn up in the summer of 1941. Surprisingly, workers’ clubs Radnicˇki Kragujevac and Zˇeljeznicˇar Nisˇ were due to continue their activities in the southern group. Without a broader ‘national’ competition, football enthusiasts focused on the Belgrade city championship. Derby matches attracted crowds of up to 16,000, while promising young players who subsequently became stars of the postwar game played extensively during the occupation. A young Rajko Mitic´ was part of the BSK team that won Belgrade titles in 1941 and 1943.14 Elsewhere, the violent redrawing of borders led some talented players from clubs that fell under NDH jurisdiction to seek refuge in Serbian teams. In the case of Vitez (Knight) Zemun, the whole team relocated to nearby Belgrade when their town was incorporated into the Croatian puppet state.15 As a result, Zemun was represented in the competitions of both the ‘Serbian residual state’ and the NDH. Germany, Hungary, Italy, Albania and Bulgaria directly annexed large swathes of Yugoslavia. Here, too, football served to enforce the new status quo. A team from Novi Sad – with seven of the outlawed Vojvodina’s players in its ranks, albeit with Hungarianised names – was admitted directly to the Hungarian topflight when the city was annexed in 1941. To underline the new political map, the Karad¯ord¯e Stadium was renamed in

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honour of the Hungarian Regent, Admiral Miklo´s Horthy.16 Many other clubs joined the Hungarian game’s lower leagues. The same occurred in the territories of present-day Macedonia, where annexation to Bulgaria led to Makedonija Skopje joining Bulgaria’s premier competition. The 1942 championship also incorporated teams from Bitola and Prilep. In Italiancontrolled Albania, the 1942 football competition included teams from the newly incorporated Kosovar towns of Prishtina, Prizreni and Peja. Football stadiums also served non-sporting needs: for example, Ljubljana’s Bezˇigrad hosted a celebration of Hitler’s birthday.17 Italy was less successful in attempts to replicate its new borders through football, but this was not for lack of trying. When Split was annexed in 1941, the Italian authorities attempted to remodel Hajduk, twice champion of interwar Yugoslavia. They intended to admit the club to the Italian top flight. Under a new name, AC Spalato, matches against Italy’s leading sides would underline the city’s ‘redeemed’ status. Players were offered financial incentives, air travel to away matches and a new stadium. Instead, Hajduk decided to disband. Although players were warned that their stance constituted a political act, Hajduk refused to collaborate. Nevertheless, the ground was renamed after Mussolini’s fallen son, Bruno, and a club called AC Spalato was formed, albeit without local football talent and never strong enough to compete in Serie A.18 Hajduk’s players did not all behave

Figure 4 The Slovene Homeguard stand before a Swastika at Ljubljana’s Bezˇigrad, 1944. Museum of Contemporary History, Ljubljana.

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identically in their forced idleness. Ljubomir Kokeza’s career encapsulates the complexities of their situations. An interwar SKOJ member, he was ‘forced’ to turn out for HASˇK Zagreb in the NDH league. Arrested for disorder by the Ustasˇa in 1943, he claims he was ordered to leave the NDH, before joining the partisan resistance.19 Communists were a hunted species in all of the wartime polities that sprouted from Yugoslav soil. Already a clandestine organisation, the Communist Party of Yugoslavia spent the first weeks of the war preparing to resist. Following Germany’s invasion of the Soviet Union, the KPJ leadership called upon members to take up arms against the occupying forces and their domestic quislings at the beginning of July 1941. Tiny in number, the movement called upon its hard-earned experience and was one of the few groups with a unifying multi-ethnic platform amidst the fratricide. Under the leadership of Josip Broz Tito, who had done much to consolidate the Party apparatus since becoming general secretary four years earlier, the communist resistance fought a disruptive campaign of sabotage and ambush. By September, they had liberated a modest piece of territory around the western Serbian town of Uzˇice. Setting the pattern for the years that followed, the partisans held their prize for a short time before retreating. Their strength lay in their ability to survive wave after wave of anti-partisan operations despite suffering huge losses in the process. Adapting to each setback, the partisans gained the support of a growing percentage of the population, drawn from every ethnic group. Members of workers’ football clubs eagerly answered the KPJ call to arms. Belgrade’s Radnicˇki called a special meeting where it could be read.20 Idealistic youths, imbued with communism through their football clubs, were brave to the point of martyrdom. When the Croatian Communist Party stirred rebellion in Dalmatia in August 1941, members of Split’s Workers’ Sport Club (Radnicˇki sˇportski klub, RSˇK) flocked to join the First Split Detachment. Armed and supplied with meager rations, some recruits overcame a shortage of suitable clothing by donning their red RSˇK shirts and football boots, which they had hidden after the occupation. With no combat experience, one of the three platoons failed to find its way out of the city. They were the lucky ones. After a grueling ascent into the Dalmatian hinterland, the 43 members of the other platoons stumbled upon a group of domestic fascist and Italian soldiers just four days into their partisan adventure. Five were killed immediately, while another 25 were taken prisoner. All but one of the latter, including 13 RSˇK members, were sentenced to death in an NDH court in Sinj less than two weeks later. They were executed in a nearby village.21 Other club members were among those

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murdered in mass shootings in Sˇibenik and Trogir. The former saw 26 antifascists and communists, half from RSˇK, executed following a show trial. Also among those who perished on Sˇibenik’s football ground were the experienced communist Rade Koncˇar – Serbian secretary of the Central Committee of the Croatian Party, metalworker and interwar Metalac Zagreb footballer – and the president of RNK Nada (Hope), another lauded workers’ club based in Split.22 In total, RSˇK lost over a hundred members during the war. Among the survivors subsequently honoured with the title of ‘national hero’ were figures who had risen to senior positions in the Party apparatus.23 Elsewhere in Dalmatia, clubs made massive contributions to the partisan struggle. Surviving monuments at modest grounds throughout the region underline the scale of football’s sacrifice. An active partisan sportsman later detailed nearly 500 athletes who fell for the cause in the Split region alone, from a total death toll of 3,660. Concrete examples of the contributions made by individual clubs are instructive. NK Mosor, from Zˇrnovnica on the periphery of Split, mourned the loss of 71 members. The club’s president, Ilija Aljinovic´-Ilijasˇ, was also the village’s KPJ secretary, as well as a member of other regional committees. He died of wounds suffered at the Battle of Sutjeska in 1943.24 In Serbia, while Radnicˇki Belgrade initially continued to function as a front for illegal activity, much of the first team and administration left to join partisan units. Others participated in sabotage activities in the city. Like RSˇK, Radnicˇki recorded its first losses in August 1941. In the autumn of that year, the team sent its winter kit to protect partisan fighters from the harsh mountain conditions. At the war’s end, the Radnicˇki casualty list was long, and the club took pride in the eleven national heroes that emerged from its ranks.25 Bosnia’s workers’ clubs also answered the call of resistance in the first year of the war. Velezˇ Mostar, Sloboda Tuzla and Zˇeljeznicˇar Sarajevo provided dozens of recruits for the partisan cause.26 Of the hundreds of fallen footballer –partisans, those who – like the players of RSˇK Split – fell in 1941 show that the KPJ’s interwar presence in the workers’ game provided a reservoir of eager volunteers. It was not just young, physically fit players who rallied against the invaders. Like Radnicˇki Kragujevac’s Ivesˇa, many leading voices of interwar workers’ football also fell in the struggle. The dentist and tireless spokesman of progressive Zagreb sport Milan Milanovic´ was among them, murdered in Jasenovac in 1944.27 However, not all members of workers’ clubs flocked to the communist-led resistance. Some entered the ranks of the partisans’ enemies.28

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Yugoslavia’s ‘bourgeois’ clubs also harboured antifascist activity. While most of them collaborated with new regimes, individual players engaged in clandestine resistance. Vojvodina’s Milan Simin joined the partisans at the first opportunity in July 1941. Taking to the Vojvodina countryside with the intention of destroying crops, railway and telephone lines, Simin was in action for just one day before being killed.29 Others died for their beliefs unarmed, as fascist regimes ‘liquidated’ some of Yugoslavia’s leading interwar players. After he assisted the KPJ in Belgrade, the Gestapo arrested and murdered former national team star Milutin Ivkovic´, who was known for his left-wing sympathies. Franja Giler, another former national team player, was an ethnic German from Vojvodina. Mobilised by his imposed ‘fatherland’ against his will, he deserted. After his capture, a German military court sentenced him to death.30 In Zagreb, meanwhile, elite players were on the Ustasˇa radar. The Ustasˇa shot Svetozar Ðanic´, a Party member, Grad¯anski player and Yugoslav representative, in 1941, while HASˇK footballer Nikola Pajevic´ was executed a year later. Both had been active in the KPJ underground.31 Beyond the undoubted contribution of footballers and officials to the partisan cause, the game played a revolutionary role from an early stage. We learn from Vladimir Dedijer, a prominent partisan and Tito’s official biographer, that by April 1942, detachments were playing football matches near the temporarily liberated Bosnian town of Focˇa. Despite the fact that Italian forces and domestic opponents were attacking in the vicinity, a game took place between a Supreme Command team and a detachment from the town of Valjevo. Dedijer’s team included such prominent revolutionaries as Lola Ribar and Arso Jovanovic´: This morning Zoran Zˇujovic´ and I took a group of pioneers to . . . put up the poles and find a football. There was a great crowd . . . . We won! 4 – 0 . . . . Tito watched the match and photographed us at the moment when Zˇujovic´ was shooting a goal.32 On other occasions, the future Minister of Internal Affairs, Aleksandar Rankovic´, who had been a member of Radnicˇki Belgrade, played in Dedijer’s team. A Partisan Olympics was held in Focˇa in May, but soon afterwards Tito’s army had to abandon the town, having held it for over one hundred days.33 The sporting activity that thrived during this brief period bears witness to the stability that partisans brought to liberated areas, however fleetingly.

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Matches served to maintain morale and boost fitness levels; basketball performed a similar function for Chinese communist guerillas during the 1930s.34 Football provided brief respites from the fighting and a muchneeded sense of normality. By 1943, and especially after the capitulation of fascist Italy, football was a regular feature of partisan recreation across territories under their control. Hrvoje Tartalja, who organised recreation in the Eighth Corpus of the National Liberation Army of Yugoslavia (Narodna oslobodilacˇka vojska Jugoslavije, NOVJ) – as the partisan movement came to be known – later recalled: Virtually every large company unit had its own football group, so that during rest periods they chased after everything that could role across those splendid grassy fields. Like many other things, we fashioned the first footballs ourselves. We would take the canvas from parachute bags, which we got from deliveries that Allied planes dropped for us at predetermined locations. From this canvas we fashioned a ball with an opening, through which we crammed as much straw as possible. Those balls even bounced, especially when they were new, or before they had been soaked in one of the streams that gurgled all around us in spring.35 Matches took place just kilometres from fluctuating frontlines, on makeshift pitches of varying quality. Inter-Corpus games attracted hundreds of spectators, despite presenting an easy target for enemy aircraft.36 Matches could be highly symbolic occasions. In July 1943, two partisan divisions played a match in liberated Otocˇac to mark the second anniversary of partisan resistance in the Lika region of Croatia. A crowd of 2,000 gathered to watch players enjoy a brief respite from their frontline duties. The adopted national anthem of the partisan movement, ‘Hej Slaveni!’ (Hey Slavs!), rang out before kick-off and the local crowd chanted ‘Reds, reds’, a reference to the politically symbolic colour of the 6th Lika Division’s shirts. Afterwards, the winning team received signed photographs of comrade Tito, which one of them described as ‘the greatest gift for all of us, our commander, and the fighters of our division’.37 Yet, on occasion the partisan embrace of football backfired. Dedijer recalls one episode, when Sreten ‘Crni’ Zˇujovic´ broke his leg during a wartime match: ‘That was a real tragedy. Unfortunately, comrade Tito was there . . . He was furious with me . . . Poor Crni lay on a stretcher for two months’.38 As the partisan movement matured into a force capable of defining political objectives, it organised large gatherings in liberated towns. The

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Anti-Fascist Council for the National Liberation of Yugoslavia (Antifasˇisticˇko vijec´e narodnog oslobod¯enja Jugoslavije, AVNOJ) consisted of both communist and non-communist members of the resistance. Its first two meetings, at Bihac´ in November 1942 and at Jajce a year later, laid the foundations for a democratic federal state comprising six republics, each with equal rights. Declaring itself the executive authority, AVNOJ elected a provisional government and made Tito prime minister. The body denounced the Royalist government-in-exile, and called for a referendum on the monarchy’s future. In this way, the communist-led resistance set out a coherent vision for a cohesive postwar state. It was attractive to vast swathes of the population – at least on paper. Football was never far from such gatherings. Matches accompanied the first congresses of the United League of Antifascist Youth of Yugoslavia (Ujedinjeni savez antifasˇisticˇke omladine Jugoslavije, USAOJ) at Bihac´ in 1942 and then Drvar in May 1944.39 As a partisan victory became increasingly likely, the political use of football became a more significant factor in state construction. By the time of the Drvar Congress, partisan leaders were ready to embrace the game in a more explicit way.

Hajduk: The Team of the National Liberation Army When Italy capitulated in September 1943, Tito’s partisans took full advantage of the ensuing vacuum. They seized control of the remote island of Vis and the defeated Italians’ weapons, and despite heavy aerial bombardment, they never relinquished them.40 Vis served as the partisan state’s makeshift capital: the Central Committee of the KPJ was based here and the Slobodna Dalmacija (Free Dalmatia) newspaper was published on the island. Its strategically vital location between the Dalmatian coast and the Eastern shores of Italy provided a fixed base for contact with the Allies. Amid the heavy partisan presence, a number of esteemed interwar footballers made the most of the relative calm. Among them were former stars of Hajduk and other Dalmatian clubs, including the fiery Matosˇic´ brothers, Jozo and Frane. Their 26th Division formed a team and began to play matches against Allied soldiers who found themselves on Vis.41 By February 1944, senior members of the Croatian Communist Party were convinced that this promising team of partisan –footballers could be a major asset. In a letter to Aleksandar Rankovic´, of the National Liberation Army of Yugoslavia’s Supreme Command, Dalmatian Party leaders suggested that if team members were freed from their military duties they could embark on a tour of Italy. They were already ambitious in their

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aims: ‘In our opinion the club ought to be called “Free Yugoslavia”’.42 Among the senior Party figures on the island were Ante Jurjevic´-Baja and Vicko Krstulovic´, interwar members of RSˇK. At the beginning of March, the commandant of the First Dalmatian Brigade ordered the formation of the Football Group (Nogometna grupa). With 15 talented players, it was tasked with maintaining partisan morale and nurturing relations with Allied units stationed on the island. There were plenty of the latter, not least because a makeshift runway was built high on its central plateau to enable stricken Allied bombers to land. Relations between the partisans and the British were already cordial, lubricated by airdrops that – alongside providing raw materials for makeshift footballs – delivered indispensable aid to embattled partisan units. By the beginning of 1944, the British viewed Tito’s forces as the only effective resistance movement in Yugoslavia, having abandoned the increasingly collaborationist Cˇetniks. With a red star sewn to their white shirts, the Football Group outplayed their Allied opponents, winning 11 of 16 matches. When the British reacted by bringing talented players to the island from elsewhere, it became clear that – as well as helping to foster links with the Allies – football could be a useful propaganda tool.43 Today, surveying the serene plateau where these events unfolded, it is hard to imagine the hive of activity of 1944: dozens of badly damaged British and American bombers stood on fields now ploughed by the odd farmer, the grass runway still scars the terrain and the bumpy football pitch is now fertile soil for a vineyard. But in the spring of 1944, when some of Dalmatia’s best footballers played on the scrubby pitch at the end of the airfield, an ambitious idea took shape. A number of factors made the audacious decision to reform Hajduk at the height of the liberation struggle possible. Although the esteemed interwar team was not a workers’ club, its wartime conduct had been decisive. The refusal to collaborate stood in stark contrast to Yugoslavia’s other leading clubs. By the spring of 1944, several members of the first team and a number of officials were already experienced partisans, some of whom were part of the Football Group. The Dalmatian leadership also included a number of keen sportsmen with direct links to Hajduk. The sacrifices made by neighbours RSˇK ruled out its reformation. Besides, any team formed to represent the new Yugoslavia had to be strong enough to compete at the highest level. Hence, in one of the great ironies of Yugoslav sport, a bastion of the ‘bourgeois game’ came to represent the revolutionary partisan movement, and Jurjevic´-Baja later noted that Tito had sanctioned the project.44 Such a resource-consuming undertaking could never have happened without the approval of the Supreme Command. Former Hajduk

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player and Yugoslav international Sˇime Poduje was serving in the Eighth Corpus of Tito’s army when he was summoned to Regional Command with unconventional orders: Comrades from ZAVNOH [Zemaljsko antifasˇisticˇko vijec´e narodnog oslobod¯enja Hrvatske, State Anti-fascist Council for the National Liberation of Croatia] have decided to establish the Hajduk football club from Split as soon as possible from its former players. The club will be tasked with travelling abroad to represent our fledgling sport. . . . Before you set out, send invitations to all former players and coaches of Hajduk, for them to come immediately to the Regional Split Command. Endeavour to gather the players at said Command within ten days, regardless of their current duties and location.45 This was a formidable task. Poduje could count on the services of those players already serving as partisans, but many others lived in NDHcontrolled Split, Zagreb and Dubrovnik. Nonetheless, he replied with a highly promising list of names: I am confident not a single player will decline this honourable invitation, especially as it is a matter of popularising our National Liberation Struggle abroad. . . . By the players’ names, you can see that it is possible to assemble a splendid team, which will not disgrace itself, even playing in the centre of Moscow, or in the centre of London.46 In a letter to Janko Rodin, the club’s president at the outbreak of the war, Poduje was well aware of the magnitude of the task: As you can see, the idea – generated by our comrades from ZAVNOH – is wonderful, and must succeed. The Hajduk players, as well as the coaches and members of the administration, can be proud that this decision has been made. I am certain nobody will fritter away this huge confidence bestowed upon us by our supreme political authorities.47 Smuggling celebrity footballers into liberated territory was no mean feat, and the whole operation was conducted with the utmost secrecy. Organised by the city’s underground National Liberation Committee, the

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escape was pulled forward three days due to fears it would be uncovered. At 11am on 23 April, fourteen players and functionaries embarked upon a journey fraught with danger. Led by a member of the underground, they walked out of Split in groups of two so as not to attract unwanted attention. They made it to the base of the mountains that rise sharply above the coastal strip by 4pm. The ill-fated RSˇK players had left the city under similar circumstances back in 1941. Hajduk awaited nightfall before negotiating more dangerous terrain. They finally linked up with partisans on the slopes of Kozjak and were reunited with Poduje by dawn. Over the following days, the delegation encountered many difficulties. With little to eat, they trekked barefoot so as not to alert German patrols to their presence. When Axis actions ruled out their initial route via the island of Kaprije, the plan changed again. Exposed to the elements for several days, the group was forced to wait for the fierce bora winds to subside. Finally, on 1 May, fishermen took them to the island of Mali Drvenik. From there, the group embarked upon a larger vessel. Hungry and exhausted, Hajduk sailed into Vis harbour on 2 May.48 Poduje informed Split’s National Liberation Committee that ‘today, after a ten day struggle, we arrived happily on Vis’.49 The manager would be frustrated in his plans to secure the Zagrebbased players, but he was nevertheless in a position to get to work. On 7 May 1944, Split’s patron saint day, Hajduk was officially reformed at a ceremony in Croatian Hall (Hrvatski dom), overlooking Vis harbour. An emotional Rodin opened the proceedings with words of remembrance for all ‘comrade – sportsmen’ who had fallen in the struggle against foreign oppressors and ‘domestic degenerates’. In particular, the president drew attention to the plight of RSˇK players, describing their ‘spilled blood as a signpost for all fighters from our Dalmatia’. After this eulogy, Rodin staked a claim for Hajduk as a revolutionary force. He discussed the club’s history, stressing that many members had flocked to the resistance: We are proud that – alongside the early guerrilla [ prvoborci] sportsmen of Workers’ Sport Club Split, who not only abandoned sport as a mark of protest, but also took up arms and laid down their lives for the freedom of their nation – a large number of members and followers of our club also went down the same road.50 Hajduk’s conduct after the invasion was even more important: Our club can be proud that it did not play a single match in the name of amusement, or the covering up of fascist crimes against our

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nation. It never knelt down and played sport in the interests of Italian fascists, Kraut [sˇvapski] bandits and all manner of domestic traitors . . . . And while Macˇek’s clubs – Grad¯anski and HASˇK – served the Ustasˇa, so far our Hajduk has remained with its people, looking down upon every attempt by the Ustasˇa, Cˇetniks and Macˇek’s agents – who wanted to resurrect the club, while the nation groaned in captivity.51 The reality was rather more nuanced, and Ljubomir Kokeza is a case in point. When the club abandoned its activities, he headed north to Zagreb and played for the ‘treacherous’ HASˇK. Nevertheless, he was among those valued Hajduk players who joined the partisans prior to the club’s reformation.52 The decision to embrace Hajduk as a revolutionary tool put its members in a unique position, while also broadening the appeal of the anti-fascist, albeit communist-led, resistance: Our club is proud of this invitation because it is the first official evidence from our national government which recognises a sports club’s steadfast conduct at the time of the annexation and afterwards, up until today, when – as the first free club on liberated territory – it is renewing its sporting life. In this way, through sport, it can popularise our National Liberation Struggle, which with the blood of its best sons is creating a free Croatia in a new, democratic, and federal Yugoslavia.53 This hastily reassembled team were playing matches within days. Like the Football Group, Hajduk’s players were accommodated in the isolated hamlet of Marinje Zemlje, while they played at the pitch beside the nearby airfield. The first game was a thumping 7 – 1 victory over the Queen’s Regiment, watched by hundreds of partisans and British soldiers. Under constant threat from marauding German planes, Hajduk played three more matches against British opposition during their brief spell on Vis. During preparations for departure to Italy, communists formed a Party unit within the club, boasting six KPJ members, five candidates and six members of SKOJ. They immediately set about defining Hajduk’s role as a herald of the National Liberation Struggle on foreign shores.54 It is clear from Rodin’s stirring words that those present at the founding ceremony – including many partisan leaders, Baja and Krstulovic´ among

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them – realised the magnitude of the occasion. To mobilise the game as a weapon, however, the peoples of the proposed new Yugoslavia needed to be made aware of football’s sacrifices and the sporting exploits of partisans. Even before the official founding ceremony, the Football Group actively propagated news of their activities across both liberated and occupied territories. NOVJ’s primary publication in the region, Slobodna Dalmacija, was smuggled into Split and beyond. In April 1944, readers were presented with an image of football as a revolutionary force. They learned of RSˇK’s brave fighter – sportsmen, as well as the dark plight of famous players who refused to collaborate. Alongside news of the formation of the Football Group, with a list of star players, the newspaper carried a strongly worded message for those who continued to ply their trade in the NDH and occupied Serbia: We cannot escape the fact that there are still sportsmen in Croatia and Serbia – but especially in Zagreb – who remain indifferent to the arduous and bloody battle of the Croatian nation, and all other nations of Yugoslavia. Sportsmen of Zagreb and all cities of Croatia! We urge you to wake up to reality and join the National Liberation Army’s ranks! Presently the freedom of our nations – for which you also need to fight – is most important. Only with a rifle in hand in the struggle for a free Croatia will we achieve a broad network of clubs, pitches and stadiums in the interest of the health and leisure of the broad ranks of the people. In the new, free homeland, sports clubs will no longer be stock and trading companies for the enrichment of individuals, and the exploitation and physical exhaustion of sportsmen. To remain at Ustasˇa clubs is an inexcusable crime and a betrayal of one’s nation.55 The NDH was steadily losing territory to the partisans and such warnings must have caused those who read them to contemplate the consequences of their actions. By presenting a revolutionary image of the future, the newspaper drew a conscious link between the heroic sacrifices of the fallen, the ongoing interactions of partisan –footballers with the Allies, and NOVJ’s coherent strategy for a postwar Yugoslavia. Football had become a weapon of war. The founding ceremony dispatched an affectionate greeting to occupied Split. Players’ emotions were heightened by rumours that the Gestapo and Ustasˇa had arrested their families as a result of their flight.56 The stoic gathering informed Split’s citizens of their defiant action:

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Your dear club could no longer tolerate the Kraut–Ustasˇa reign of terror, because it did not want to serve the oppressors of militant, martyred, Croatian Split and the entire Croatian nation, as well as all of the nations of Yugoslavia, and so it chose the path of freedom, honour, pride and fame . . . . Neither will the persecution of the players’ families – who the Kraut–Ustasˇa maniacs have seized – crush us. . . . Our dear Split, heroic city, we will return to you soon, but then the scumbag foreigner and his lackeys will no longer tread upon our sacred soil. Our native city! Just as we have fulfilled our sporting calling up until now, conscientiously and resolutely, we will do so all the more now that, as fighters of NOVJ, we represent our sacred National Liberation Struggle57 The KPJ’s innovative approach to the national question – making it possible to fight for both a free Croatia and a free Yugoslavia – is clear in these words. It was no contradiction that the club was initially reformed as the ‘Croatian Sport Club Hajduk’, with the suffix NOVJ added shortly afterwards. The red star of socialism replaced the red and white chequered sˇahovnica, a Croatian national symbol that had adorned Hajduk’s white shirts.58 Nevertheless, the new Yugoslavia would not be a prison for the Croatian nation, or any of their South Slav neighbours.

Scoring for the Revolution High above the port of Split, the Venetian Gripe Fortress houses the city’s branch of the Croatian National Archive. Documents relating to Hajduk’s wartime feats survive here, but in the yard outside there is another artefact. The fortress’ commanding vantage point is hardly the natural setting for a maritime museum, still less for the Bakar’s hulk. Only the prow of the ship remains, but it must have been a Herculean task to lift this ‘national hero’ into its final resting place. A workhorse of the revolution which fell into partisan hands following Italy’s capitulation, this ship transported Hajduk from Vis to the Italian city of Bari at the beginning of June 1944. Hajduk lived a disciplined military lifestyle throughout their stay in southern Italy. Initially based in coastal Monopoli, they trained every day and received political classes twice a week. Although they had a civil relationship with Allied forces, it took some time to earn respect and recognition, and they rose to prominence through a string of victories and a hard-won reputation for exemplary conduct off the field. Travelling by

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Figure 5 Hajduk train in their star-emblazoned kits, Monopoli, Italy. June 1944. Karlo Grenc Foundation, Split. truck, the team played games all over southern Italy, venturing as far as Rome and Naples. By mid-September, Hajduk remained undefeated on Italian soil, with 18 victories and two draws. This included occasional games against other Yugoslav opposition, but most were against British Army teams. The Italian tour opened with a 10– 0 hammering of a British side, followed by a tight 3 –2 victory over the British Eighth Army. The latter had a fearsome reputation, with such prominent footballers as Welsh international and Arsenal forward Bryn Jones among its players. In the victories that followed – including matches against RAF and Royal Navy representations – Hajduk outplayed teams packed with talented players from the English and Scottish leagues.59 News of the Yugoslavs spread through Allied ranks. Military newspapers spoke about them in glowing terms and the Italian Corriere dello Sport ran a front page article on their feats.60 As Allied soldiers and locals marvelled at the undefeated Hajduk, the British rose to the challenge and organised a spectacle in Bari’s cavernous new stadium. England defender Stan Cullis amassed a group of players to represent the British Armed Forces who were capable of competing with their football nemesis.61 Reporting the news back to the Propaganda Department of the National Liberation Committee of Dalmatia, Poduje stressed this was a major propaganda victory for Tito’s forces. As far as he

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Figure 6 Bari’s stadium, packed with Allied soldiers, during the 1944 game between British and Yugoslav military representations. Karlo Grenc Foundation, Split. was concerned, it would be ‘an international match between GREAT BRITAIN and YUGOSLAVIA’: ‘With the arrangement of the first interstate match for the sportsmen of the new Yugoslavia we have achieved great success, because this match is the fruit of Hajduk NOVJ’s great victories’. He appealed for the game to be widely publicised.62 Yet, even Poduje could not have dreamt of the scene that unfolded in Bari on the afternoon of 23 September 1944. Nearly a thousand trucks brought Allied soldiers to the city’s fascist masterpiece, the Stadio della Vittoria, while the Army Broadcasting Service relayed commentary to those who remained at their posts. Estimates of the crowd grew with the retelling, but surviving photographs show that something in the region of 40,000 spectators witnessed the match. English posters advertised the encounter as a ‘British Services XI’ versus the ‘Jugoslav National Liberation Army XI’.63 Eager to emphasise the game’s international character, it was no surprise that undefeated Hajduk downplayed their club name. Italian civilians were denied access, so the terraces were a sea of khaki uniforms, as British, Americans, Yugoslavs and others mixed freely. Wounded partisans were afforded prime position around the perimeter of the pitch. The British team was stronger than any

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the Yugoslavs had faced up until this point. Captained by Cullis, the side was entirely professional and was packed with players who had been capped at the highest level by the home nations. A young Tom Finney, who became a star after the war, was among the starting line-up.64 Here, in a shattered Italian port, football’s value to the National Liberation Struggle was immeasurable. Before the heavy leather ball even began to roll, Yugoslavs were stunned by the magnitude of the occasion. The tricolour flag of the new Yugoslavia, embossed with the red fivepointed star ( petokraka), flew proudly over the massed spectators. Then, ‘Hej Slaveni’ – the national anthem of the incipient state – rang out around the stadium, reducing even the toughest partisans to tears. The recovering And¯elko Marusˇic´, a Yugoslav international whose Hajduk career ended with German bullets on the mountains of Dalmatia, viewed this moment as one of the defining events of his life: Never before nor after have I felt greater pride in the fact that I was born in this time, so close to the future Tito’s Yugoslavia, that I am a Yugoslav. . . . This moment of raising the flag and [hearing] the anthem was, really, the key moment of the whole of our playing momentum. With that ceremony everything had been said, everything done, our mission was complete. Everything before and afterwards did not have that significance. Before the eyes of the whole of Europe, in the presence of 50,000 witnesses of all races and nationalities, Tito’s Yugoslavia had finally been officially acknowledged.65 Those on the pitch felt the same way. Years later, Kokeza described hearing the anthem as the petokraka rippled in the breeze above: That was a really magnificent moment, which spontaneously provoked tears of joy, which filled you with pride in the fact that you were a member of such a brave and heroic army. Regarding our [political] opponents – and there were certainly some of them present among the soldier – spectators – if up until that moment they did not believe, now they must have been convinced that the National Liberation Movement and National Liberation Army of Yugoslavia were a reality, which were victoriously stepping towards their objective, settling accounts with the old order once and for all.66

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For Poduje, ‘the match had not even started and we had already won!’ When the game got underway, Hajduk were outplayed for the first time. Yet, there was no shame in losing 7– 2 to such illustrious opposition, especially because the majority of Hajduk’s players had been recovering from malaria – contracted while sleeping under the stars on their return from Naples – in the days before the game.67 At the final whistle, wounded partisans made their way onto the pitch. Among them was Ante Ivanisˇevic´ from Vis, who picked up the match ball and hid it under his heavy army coat. Years after the war, in his liberated island home, Ante let his young son play with the prized souvenir.68 Much was made of the occasion in the English, Italian and Yugoslav press.69 When RAF planes dropped NOVJ newspapers ‘by the ton’ over occupied parts of Yugoslavia, a photograph of the teams emerging before a packed crowd confronted readers. The article underlined the magnitude of this ‘international’, symbolically placing Great Britain and Tito’s Yugoslavia on an equal footing by commenting upon the dignitaries who witnessed it: several British commanders, members of the Soviet military mission, Polish officers and the commandant of NOVJ’s Italian base. This ‘manifestation of Allied unity and friendship was so successful that a rematch is being planned in Split, as soon as the city is liberated’.70 The citizens of Split would not have to wait long: both eagerly anticipated events had occurred by the end of the year. *** Later in the war, as Tito’s army advanced deep into Yugoslav territory with ranks bolstered by recruits of every nationality, Hajduk embarked upon another tour. At the invitation of the British, the team sailed to Malta in March 1945, where they played seven matches against British Armed Forces teams and Maltese sides. The team picked up where they had left off in Italy, spreading word of the National Liberation Struggle far beyond Yugoslavia’s borders. Upon arrival on the embattled Mediterranean outpost, the delegation issued a greeting on behalf of Hajduk, Tito and the Yugoslav Army. The club were no strangers to Malta, having played there on three occasions during the interwar years. Nevertheless, this wartime visit was very different: ‘We do not feel like sportsmen among you, but rather like fighters for the shared ideals of freedom and democracy, united in the battle against slavery and violence, against the enemy of all humanity – fascism’. They informed the Maltese that their own heroic resistance had been inspirational to partisans in the unconquered hills and forests of Yugoslavia. It was a sign of the diverse

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nature of the Allied forces that these representatives of a communist-led resistance movement roused their hosts by toasting the long life of the British Empire.71 Poduje published a lengthy article in the Times of Malta, an Englishlanguage publication that reported on the sporting side of the tour on a daily basis, as did its Maltese counterpart. The Hajduk manager seized this opportunity to emphasise football’s contribution to the National Liberation Struggle. Readers learned of the massacre at Sinj, as well as the military and sporting exploits of the visiting club. The newspaper’s editor gave Poduje’s account a romanticised introduction: prior to a remarkable run of 33 victories in 39 matches, the Yugoslav Army team ‘were engaged in a grimmer game – guerrilla fighting at first, then organised resistance against the invaders and oppressors. Their’s [sic.] is a story of suffering, of stubborn courage, of determination to fight on in the free mountains and forests of their country’.72 Flattering press coverage ensured record crowds of over 13,000 and the Governor of Malta entertained Hajduk at his Palace. News of the team’s latest feats was relayed home and the major newspapers enabled the Yugoslav public to follow the tour.73 Poduje noted that they had caused a mania among the island’s civilians: Apart from the great sporting success, the moral success was such that it is really difficult to describe. . . . High school pupils, who drew large five pointed stars with the inscription ‘Hajduk – NOVJ’ – which the players would then sign – were particularly prominent. During our stay, the attention of the whole island was concentrated upon us to such an extent that, so the Maltese said, for two weeks they forgot there was a war on.74 Even prior to arrival on Malta, Hajduk explored the possibility of extending their Mediterranean tour to Egypt. Poduje sought the permission of the senior Party leadership, writing to Edvard Kardelj, the vice-president of the provisional government in liberated Belgrade. The proposal to continue their encounters with the British, as well as visiting a Yugoslav refugee camp, was approved immediately.75 On arrival in North Africa, the level of attention astonished even Poduje: the whole press, regardless of whether English (but them especially!), French, Greek, Egyptian, or Armenian, began to fill columns about Hajduk, the team of the Yugoslav Army; about Tito’s fighters, not just carrying articles about sport, but also about our struggle.

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Up until now more than 50 newspapers have written about Hajduk in the nicest and most complimentary way.76 This media interest reached far beyond Egyptian borders as Hajduk laid on conferences for the international press. The players were carefully prepped for their encounters with TASS, Reuters and other agencies.77 In this way, news of Hajduk spread across the globe, something relished in reports sent back to Yugoslavia: Even the newspapers of the world’s biggest cities – Moscow, London, Paris, New York – have devoted numerous sympathetic articles to the fighter – sportsmen of Tito’s Army, stressing unanimously that Hajduk’s history is the most beautiful sporting history of this war.78 The tour was gaining momentum. The visit to El Shatt refugee camp, where Hajduk faced a team of displaced Yugoslavs before 8,000 spectators, engaged in cultural events and gave political classes on the National Liberation Struggle, was a highlight. From Egypt, the partisan footballers travelled on to Palestine, Syria and Lebanon. The team was in such high demand that invitations to venture further east to Iraq were declined. Poduje’s ultimate desire was to crown the tour with a trip to the Soviet Union, but the club was denied that opportunity. The Middle Eastern leg brought Hajduk into contact with Jewish teams and French military sides, as well as many notables, from the powerful Syrian political figure Jamil Mardam Bey to Soviet diplomats in Lebanon. They sang partisan songs on Radio Orient, visited the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem and were honoured guests at a screening of La libe´ration de Belgrade in Beirut. On the pitch, they faced a mixture of civilian clubs, army teams and national representations. In total, HajdukNOVJ played 65 matches across seven states, with just seven defeats.79 The team gave and received gifts wherever they went. The highest profile recipients were given German MP40 submachine guns, captured in the heat of battle by NOVJ’s Eighth Corpus.80 These extensive travels did not pass without incident. The tour nearly fell at the first hurdle when Royalist elements intervened with the British in an effort to prevent Tito’s footballers from sailing to Malta. Since the outbreak of war, the Yugoslav monarchy and its government had been exiled in London. They were initially able to influence British policy in the Balkans, though their perceived desertion of the country and association

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with Drazˇa Mihailovic´’s Cˇetniks drastically weakened their position at home. Nevertheless, even in the spring of 1945, senior remnants of the Kingdom’s armed forces enjoyed cordial relations with British civil servants and military figures. When, upon arrival in Italy, Hajduk’s departure for Malta was postponed, it became clear that the ancien re´gime was to blame: The very first meeting with . . . [British] Captain Wight let us know that something was interfering with our trip, and that it endeavoured to make it impossible by all means. The cause was immediately clear, because at the first meeting Captain Wight asked us whether we knew that there were Cˇetniks on Malta. We replied to him that it was of no concern to us whatsoever, because today in Yugoslavia there is one government, with Marshal Tito at its head, and one Yugoslav Army, all of which was recognised by the Great Powers at the meeting at Yalta. He tried to excuse himself, saying he was very sorry that it had come to this, because sport and politics should not be allowed to mix81 When the delegation threatened to inform Winston Churchill and the British public that Yugoslav ‘sportsmen –partisans’ were being denied passage even though they had been invited, the British in Bari swiftly changed tack and allowed the team to depart. Hajduk came into contact with the Royalist navy as soon as they sailed into Valetta, the defunct Kingdom’s flag fluttering on ships in the harbour. However, Hajduk’s players received orders to mix freely with these sailors and – from the management’s perspective – scored another propaganda victory for Tito’s Yugoslavia: This was their conclusion: ‘The Royalist propaganda was based upon lies. They told us there was anarchy in Yugoslavia, but now we can see that this was all false propaganda. A state which, in the midst of a bloody war, can establish a team such as Hajduk must be well-organised and have the support of the whole population.’ Many of them immediately decided to return to the homeland.82 The Royalist Colonel Kern spoke in glowing terms about Tito’s politics while his sailors enthusiastically cheered on Hajduk. Later in the tour, Hajduk had to counter other ‘fantastical lies’ about the partisans spread by reactionary elements in the El Shatt refugee camp.83

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Confusion regarding the political status of Yugoslavia resurfaced when the team reached the Middle East. In Beirut, Hajduk had to interrupt a French military band when it struck up the obsolete interwar anthem. For Kokeza, this was a deliberate act by ‘reactionary elements in the French Army’, but one senses that it was a genuine mistake from the contemporary report.84 In Palestine, Tito’s team were horrified to see they were billed as the ‘Royal Jugoslav Army XI’ on posters advertising a match in Haifa. When informed of their mistake, the embarrassed British rushed around the town, expunging the word ‘Royal’.85 Not all of the obstacles encountered by Poduje and his team were the fault of their hosts. The footballers were issued with a daily schedule, informing them of their duties, upcoming events and any other business. They were reminded regularly of the need to obey orders: poor discipline could put the entire mission in jeopardy. Exhausted from their busy schedule of competitive matches and formal occasions, towards the end of the Egyptian leg Hajduk’s players received a stern reminder: Recently it has been noticed that discipline in our unit has become slack. Individual members . . . are behaving as if they are not soldiers, and many have forgotten the reason we are on this tour. . . . Comrades! You must not forget for a single minute that you are solider–sportsmen of the Yugoslav Army, and that everything you are doing is not done as individuals, but as members of that Army, which is making the Yugoslav peoples famous across the whole world. You must never forget that – in particular – our comrades, who are still fighting for the liberation of our long-suffering country, follow our every step: that they rejoice in our successes, but that everything which is not right with us hurts them. Let that thought always accompany you. Our motto should always be one and the same: to a partisan of Marshal Tito’s, nothing is impossible!86 The team’s exploits undoubtedly motivated comrades at home. A letter from active fighters, who had fought alongside a number of Hajduk’s players prior to the club’s resurrection, reaffirmed the players’ symbolic role. Dalmatian partisans secured daily victories and ‘justly punish[ed] fascist criminals for their atrocities’ in Sinj, Trogir, Sˇibenik and elsewhere. In exchange, they expected Hajduk to provide worthy representation abroad.87 On the first anniversary of the team’s transfer to liberated territory, players were reminded who stood behind their revolutionary activities:

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On this occasion, we must not forget our accountable comrades from ZAVNOH and the Provincial National Liberation Committee for Dalmatia, who entrusted us with this honourable mission. We must not forget that the idea to reform our Hajduk originated from our Marshal, comrade Tito himself. Have that in mind comrades, because the mission entrusted to us – perhaps not important at first glance – is playing a large and significant role in our National Liberation Movement.88 Here, towards the end of the war, the team’s leaders reiterated that they were not indulging in football for football’s sake. Far from Yugoslav shores, the game continued to serve as a weapon of war and revolution.

Victories on Home Soil More than seventy years after the partisans first set foot in ancient Split, it is still possible to catch the occasional glimpse of the bold red liberation slogans that were painted above shop fronts after the Germans fled. The tired facades and their messages are out of place among the gaudy retail outlets of the modern city: ‘Long live the National Liberation Army’.89 Yet it was a defining moment, even for a place with a long and turbulent past. Hajduk were in Italy in October 1944, when they received news of Split’s liberation. A week later, the team returned home to a warm reception; reunited with families, they could again walk the familiar labyrinthine streets through the remains of Diocletian’s Palace. Just beyond the historic centre, their stadium – Stari plac – was also little more than a ruin, which the occupiers had exploited as a ready source of raw materials and firewood.90 Hajduk marked their return on 7 November when they faced the First Dalmatian Brigade before 4,000 spectators. They triumphed 6 –1 on Stari plac’s rudimentary slag (sˇljaka) pitch.91 Yet the most highly anticipated game was the rematch against the British Army, which had been widely discussed since the momentous encounter in Bari. On Boxing Day 1944, 8,000 packed into the patched-up ground for ‘the first international match in liberated Yugoslavia’. With the front just thirty kilometres away, hundreds of partisans were granted leave to attend. The British fielded a strong team, captained by Scottish international Andrew Beattie. Posters advertised this state occasion as ‘Yugoslavia v Great Britain’; the flags of both were buffeted by the strong bora wind and ‘Hej Slaveni!’ rang out on a par with ‘God Save the Queen’.92

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Figure 7 Partisans enjoy the resumption of action at Hajduk Split’s shattered ground in 1944. Karlo Grenc Foundation, Split. It was another proud day for the partisans. In the weeks before the game, the 26th Division provided food from the front to ensure that Hajduk were physically prepared, despite severe shortages in stricken Split.93 Prior to kickoff, the 26th – which had given birth to the Football Group and played an important role in the liberation of the city – performed military exercises on the pitch to the delight of grateful civilians. Soldiers were admitted free of charge.94 Hajduk received a letter from the 26th before the game: Your match has stirred great interest among us and . . . we are making arrangements to assist you: if in no other way, at least morally on the pitch itself. The entire brigade is preparing to come to the match, as well as our 11th Brigade, which is already in Split. The complete command of the division will come too. There is another reason [for our attendance], apart from the significance of the match itself, and that is: our division considers Hajduk its own, because you really were with us, and I think you are closer to us than to anyone else.95 Frane Matosˇic´ scored the only goal in a 1 – 0 win over the British. The victory provoked a pitch invasion and the Hajduk players were carried off

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the field. Matosˇic´ described his contribution as ‘the most cherished goal of my career: because of our soldiers who rejoiced like children’.96 Hajduk played a few more games prior to their departure for Malta. The most moving of these was in nearby Sinj, where the players paid their respects at the grave of their fallen RSˇK counterparts.97 Just three and a half years had passed since that dark August day, but the military and political situation had altered irrevocably. Elsewhere, the game was an indispensable companion to liberation. With partisan forces enjoying regular military victories against foreign occupiers and domestic opponents, ever-larger swathes of the Independent State of Croatia and neighbouring territories fell into communist hands. Celebratory matches were played in newly liberated towns across the country, not least because football required relatively little equipment. In Vojvodina, the joint efforts of the Soviet Red Army and the partisans liberated the town of Petrovgrad on 2 October 1944. Youth representations played matches against one another in meadows around the town, while the first regular match took place twenty days after defeating the occupying forces.98 Southern Serbia witnessed similar scenes after Nisˇ fell to Tito’s advancing army in November, and matches were being played in the liberated Bosnian towns of Mostar and Tuzla by the end of the year.99 In the wreckage of Belgrade, the new federal capital, the incipient Crvena zvezda (Red Star) played a series of friendlies against military opposition in 1945.100 Domestically, Hajduk was tasked with disseminating the game throughout the army.101 This unique military unit, famous for its foreign feats, received regular requests for equipment from partisan brigades eager to embrace football. Stressing that it was the partisans’ favourite sport, the 12th Dalmatian Brigade asked for items that Hajduk ‘no longer needed’, including kit and a ball: Knowing your devotion to the popularisation of football and the demonstration of its real value both in the homeland and beyond, we hope that you will satisfy this desire of ours, and in doing so assist the development of our sport in yet another way.102 Hajduk’s sympathetic leadership was in no position to satisfy such demands. Indeed, the team was itself a recipient of aid: following the ‘international’ in Split, a Lieutenant Mathews sent two footballs and four bladders to Poduje ‘with the compliments of the British Army’.103 So, when civilian football got underway, widespread shortages demanded innovative

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solutions. The first postwar kits of veteran workers’ clubs Sloboda Tuzla and Radnicˇki Kragujevac were tailored from versatile military parachutes.104 Many places experienced liberation before the capitulation of Axis forces, but news of the German surrender sparked jubilant celebrations across Yugoslavia. In Serbian Uzˇice, the Sloboda club were hosting a tournament for local teams when the news arrived. As jubilant townsfolk entered the ground, competition was abandoned and the gathering metamorphosed into a wild celebration. The interrupted match was never finished.105 Yet, even with fascism in its death throes, football continued to serve the undefeated remnants of the Ustasˇa. At the beginning of May 1945, as Berlin fell, the Zagreb City Championship was in full swing.106 Many sportsmen had not answered the direct appeal to join the partisans. Tito’s troops did not enter the city until after Germany’s capitulation, on 9 May. Nevertheless, within days, footballs rolled across Zagreb’s pitches in the service of Marshal Tito’s victorious army.107 With victory assured, Hajduk returned from their Mediterranean exploits with a new objective: to tour their liberated homeland. Though the war was over, this was gruelling and dangerous work. Thousands of Ustasˇa, Cˇetnik and other opponents fled the retributive justice of Tito’s forces. Thousands more were murdered or imprisoned on Yugoslav soil. Others held out in the mountains and forests, just as the partisans had done before them. When Hajduk embarked upon tiring trips on dire roads in a military truck, they were armed in the event of a confrontation with the ‘remnants of the scattered enemies of the people, who dreaded the people’s court’.108 With matches across Croatia, Slovenia and Serbia, the team’s tour began to map the contours of the new state. Hajduk attracted large crowds wherever they went and laid the foundations of a state-wide multi-ethnic support base. For Kokeza, this ‘triumphal march’ around Yugoslavia was ‘the logical continuation of our matches on Malta and across the countries of the Middle East’.109 Hajduk returned to Split in their very own ‘nearly new’ Dodge truck; it was a reward for their remarkable wartime contribution.110 The game was a feature of major political gatherings after liberation. When Hajduk and Red Star met for the first time in Zagreb in June 1945 as part of the First Congress of the United League of Anti-fascist Youth of Croatia (Ujedinjeni savez antifasˇisticˇke omladine Hrvatske, USAOH), they had no idea that this was the beginning of an enduring sporting rivalry. A month earlier, the Belgrade club took part in the equivalent gathering in Bosnia & Hercegovina, alongside teams from Tuzla, Mostar and Sarajevo.111 Many clubs received swift recognition from the new authorities. Hajduk was decorated for its contribution ‘to the propaganda of the liberation

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struggle’. The wartime team was a shining example, and would ‘remain one of the most beautiful chapters in the history of our physical culture’.112 The club also received recognition from abroad: while in Lebanon, Hajduk was bestowed with the title ‘Honourary Team of Free France’.113 Tito wanted the club to relocate to Belgrade and continue its role as the team of the armed forces, but Hajduk politely declined, warning of the negative impact on the new state’s reputation were Dalmatia and Split to be deprived of their pride and joy.114 In October 1945, the unit was formally demobilised. The club ceased to be Hajduk NOVJ and became the civilian Physical Culture Society (Fiskulturno drusˇtvo, FD) Hajduk. One of the military leadership’s final acts was to send a telegram to ‘the leader of our nations and the creator of our Democratic Federative Yugoslavia’, Marshal Tito: Just as in the homeland liberation war . . . we honourably represented the sport of our glory-wreathed Army, spreading the truth about our National Liberation Struggle, so now in a time of peace we will work for the renewal of our country, reinforcing at every opportunity . . . one of the greatest achievements of our struggle – the brotherhood and unity of our nations.115 Hajduk’s wartime feats gave it a privileged status, and its players enjoyed personal audiences with Tito in the decades that followed. However, the club’s relationship with the state would not always be so easy. *** The teams and individuals who threw their weight behind the National Liberation Struggle made immense sacrifices. With the outbreak of war, the workers’ game was a source of ready recruits, swelling the ranks of the partisan movement. Yet the story of wartime football was far more complex. The game served equally as a tool for occupier, collaborator and partisan. It aided all sides in propagating ideologies and defining borders at a time when the region was in a constant state of flux. From ‘bourgeois’ roots, Hajduk evolved into a bastion of the revolution, making an immense contribution to the establishment of Tito’s Yugoslavia. By the time the team returned to the civilian fold, the game was thriving amidst the wreckage of the liberated territories. Now, like the state itself, it needed to undergo a revolution of its own. Football would be comprehensively remodeled in the image of the new socialist Yugoslavia.

CHAPTER 3 (RE)CONSTRUCTING THE YUGOSLAV GAME, 1945—8

Until 2013, an attractive two-storey clubhouse stood on the edge of the athletics track at Novi Sad’s stadium. Five arched entrances, cut into the facade, led to the changing rooms. Above, five evenly spaced square windows provided perfect views over the pitch below, with the word ‘VOJVODINA’ picked out in black Cyrillic script on the red tiled roof. Over its lifetime, this building stood firm in the face of massive political upheaval. It was erected in 1942, at a time when Axis forces were violently altering the city’s demographics. In the interwar years the Karad¯ord¯e Stadium had been home to the fiercely patriotic Vojvodina club, named after the multi-ethnic province, as well as the Jewish Sport Club Juda Makabi. The Axis invasion brought the activities of these organisations to an abrupt end, as Hungary annexed Novi Sad (or U´jvide´k). In their place, the Hungarian U´jvide´ki AC competed from their new changing rooms amongst the elite of Hungarian football, albeit with many of the outlawed Vojvodina’s Serbian players among their ranks.1 After liberation, U´jvide´ki was abolished, but the renamed ‘City Stadium’ soon hosted elite football again. The revived Vojvodina was among the handful of clubs to endure a revolutionary remodelling of tainted Yugoslav sport, but the community behind Juda Makabi was obliterated during the war. In this new phase, the Hungarian-era clubhouse served as changing rooms for a team that won the Yugoslav championship on two occasions (1966 and 1989). The names of Vojvodina players who fell for the communist cause were engraved on a plaque adorning its facade. Saturated with the contradictions of its past and sandwiched between large concrete terraces, the clubhouse gave the

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Figure 8 FK Vojvodina emerge from Novi Sad’s historic clubhouse. Author, 2008. ground an idiosyncratic feel. Even as Yugoslavia fell apart, the red tiles continued to look stoically to the sky. When the diggers finally moved in to clear the way for cheap plastic seats, an iconic building with an ambiguous past was reduced to rubble. The scenes it had witnessed – encompassing the second Yugoslavia’s agonising birth, extraordinary life and violent death – were representative of the continuity and change that characterised football during the communist era. The new Yugoslavia’s earliest years were some of the most turbulent. After liberation, football was explicitly mobilised in the state-building process. When local communists removed the crests of the collaborationist ´ jvide´ki AC from the clubhouse, they partook in a process of cleansing U and renewal replicated across the new state. Clubs, competitions and football history proved as malleable as the cities and borders that had been reimagined and redrawn in the second half of the 1940s. Particularly in contested border areas and newly integrated regions, the game emphatically underlined the infant state’s territorial aspirations. It reinforced new internal boundaries at the same time. Yet it soon became clear that the complex and fractious relations that characterised football could not be reengineered so easily. Its subversive potential – so readily exploited by interwar communists – tested the resolve of the new authorities.

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Erasing the Opposition The war left over a million Yugoslavs dead and the country in ruins. Within a few days of German surrender, Tito’s partisans controlled almost all of the territory of the interwar Kingdom, as well as neighbouring parts of Italy and Austria. During these heady days of victory, partisan forces took vengeance upon domestic opponents. While thousands managed to flee westward, tens of thousands of Croat Ustasˇe, Serbian Cˇetniks and others deemed guilty of collaboration were slaughtered. Even civilians fell victim to this settling of accounts.2 The Cˇetnik high command avoided arrest until March 1946. Their leader, Drazˇa Mihailovic´, was among those sentenced to death at a show trial. Mirroring the situation across Eastern Europe, Yugoslavia’s 350,000 ethnic Germans – many of whom hailed from Vojvodina – fled their former homes forever, tarred with the indiscriminate brush of collaboration. In the political sphere, Tito had established a provisional government during the war. Not wanting to damage relations with the western Allies, the communists had agreed to incorporate politicians from the Kingdom’s government-in-exile, as well as other non-communists. They had also agreed to defer the question of the monarchy until after inaugural elections. Nevertheless, the provisional government consisted overwhelmingly of Communist Party supporters and AVNOJ (Anti-Fascist Council for the National Liberation of Yugoslavia, Antifasˇisticˇko vijec´e narodnog oslobod¯enja Jugoslavije) participants.3 The communists and their victorious army enjoyed considerable popular support and capitalised upon it to consolidate power through all available means. Visible reminders of the old order and the various occupying administrations were swiftly eradicated. Sport was no exception. Communists cleansed organisations tainted by association with interwar and wartime regimes or founded on the basis of ethnic nationalism. Numerous clubs from the pre-revolutionary period were deemed unsuitable for the tasks of the new Soviet-inspired physical culture. The excessive club loyalty (klubasˇtvo) and chauvinist interests that characterised them allegedly ‘smashed the unity’ of Yugoslavia’s nations. These tainted clubs had been ‘bearers and sowers of the ideas of fascist regimes that acted against the people’ and they were condemned – with the notable exception of ‘a small number of cases’ – for their continued activities during the occupation.4 The wartime activity of the renowned BSK (Beogradski sport klub, Belgrade Sport Club), the boyhood team of football-obsessed partisan Vladimir Dedijer, ensured its demise. Despite fierce protestations to the contrary, the club collaborated during the occupation and had been closely associated with

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the political regime of the interwar Kingdom. BSK allegedly expelled its Jewish members in 1941, aiding the occupiers in their extermination campaign, made the son-in-law of the quisling prime minister of occupied Serbia, Milan Nedic´, a member of the club’s administration, and competed in the heavily tainted Dragi Jovanovic´ Cup (named after Belgrade’s wartime mayor) during the occupation. Many German soldiers and officers had backed the team.5 For these reasons, the ‘club, as an organisation . . . forever rendered its survival impossible’. Other leading interwar sides were also unredeemable: Neither do Jugoslavija [Belgrade], nor BASK [Beogradski akademski sportski klub, Belgrade Academic Sport Club], nor Grad¯anski [Citizen, from Zagreb], nor Concordia [Zagreb], nor SASˇK [Sarajevski amaterski sˇportski klub, Sarajevo Amateur Sport Club], nor any other clubs which offered assistance to the occupiers during the occupation, differ in any way from BSK. Small groups of corrupt politicians existed everywhere, who imposed a line and drove organisations so far that all activities of those organisations must be forbidden.6 The fate of these clubs under the prevailing revolutionary conditions was clear: their activities were to be suspended, their premises closed and their financial accounts and archives scrutinised. Comparable purges of unsuitable teams occurred in the wake of the October Revolution in Soviet Russia, where ‘bourgeois’ clubs – seen as ‘pockets of potential or actual counter-revolution’ – were either assimilated or disbanded.7 The incipient Yugoslav Physical Culture Committee stressed that undesirable individuals who attempted to resuscitate reactionary organisations and practices were to be excluded: ‘Those representatives of sport who tarnished their honour under occupation will not find a place in any newly founded physical culture societies’.8 Cartoons in the sporting press mocked players and officials who had fraternised with the occupiers.9 The new authorities made it clear, however, that innocent individuals would not be ostracised: ‘the doors are open to all honest sports workers – regardless of which clubs they played with earlier – to enter into a new society, where their honest and respectable cooperation will be accepted and welcomed’.10 Elsewhere, communists used the misdemeanours of established clubs to underline their political stance, while presenting nationalists of all ethnicities as equally deplorable. In newly liberated Sarajevo, zealous physical culture functionaries carefully explained how clubs from each of the three principal ethnic groups had collaborated with the quisling Independent State of Croatia (Nezavisna drzˇava Hrvatska, NDH). According

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to the prevailing interpretation, both interwar and NDH sport had been largely restricted to a small segment of youth who had congregated around clubs ‘established on unhealthy foundations’. Hajduk Sarajevo was condemned at the municipal trade union conference for having ‘betrayed the working class’. The club contained ‘a host of Ustasˇa criminals’.11 Communists carefully equated the NDH’s brutal Croatian nationalist Ustasˇe with the Serbian Cˇetniks, the disparate royalist force that had collaborated and committed war crimes.12 Each of Sarajevo’s ethnic groups had harboured chauvinist collaborators and reactionaries: honest Sarajevan sportsmen denounced the dirty role which all Sarajevan clubs played, but especially SASˇK, HASK and Hajduk, the greater part of the membership of which consisted of Ustasˇa criminals, as well as the Ðerzelez club which was a sanctuary of Muslim reaction, serving it as a device for the incitement of hatred between Serbs, Croats and Muslims . . . . Just as the abovementioned clubs recruited Ustasˇe – the mortal enemies of the Serbian nation – from their milieux, the Slavija sports club also yielded a host of Serbian degenerates, such as the Cˇetnik commanders Slavko Zagorac and Boban Bosnic´, who bloodied their hands with the innocent Muslim blood of Gorazˇde, Focˇa and the other places of Eastern Bosnia.13 In place of these ethnically exclusive organisations, Sarajevo’s youth was instead encouraged to nurture ‘clubs of brotherhood, so as to forge that most valuable weapon of ours through sport’. In this manner, the sporting press thrust ‘brotherhood and unity’ into the limelight. The distinction between acceptable clubs and those that failed the test ´ jvide´ki AC came was not always clear. While the erasure of the Hungarian U as no surprise, of more concern to Novi Sad’s inhabitants was initial Party insistence that the revived Vojvodina also be disbanded. Although outlawed during the occupation, many communists viewed the club as a bourgeois Serbian nationalist entity that had thrived during the interwar years. A number of Vojvodina players had fallen for the partisan cause, but the club’s administrators were unable to avoid communist meddling after the war. In 1946, a new sport society with the somewhat ironic name of Sloga (Harmony) was formed through the amalgamation of Novi Sad’s leading teams, including Vojvodina.14 Little more than a cosmetic change, Novi Sad’s flagship club quietly reverted to its original name once the revolutionary fervour died down.

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Many condemned the arbitrary nature of closures and enforced rebranding, especially when deemed inequitable. In 1950, the Croatian Communist Party established a commission to investigate ‘negative phenomena’ in sport. The postwar plight of successful interwar clubs was among the issues that emerged. At the heart of the matter was the perceived injustice behind the renewal of BSK Belgrade, in contrast to the demise of Grad¯anski Zagreb.15 The fact that these clubs hailed from the capitals of Serbia and Croatia respectively made the matter particularly sensitive. While the new authorities had initially liquidated BSK, another club – Metalac (Metalworker) – had been formed in the federal capital. Many of the latter’s members came directly from the disgraced BSK. The famous interwar international Milorad Arsenijevic´ was among the founders of the ‘new’ team. When Metalac took to the field in April 1945, the players – the majority of whom played for BSK either before or during the war – were kitted out in the same dark and light blue shirts sported by BSK. Despite the name change, it was clear to everyone that the outlawed club still existed.16 To underline Metalac’s communist values, Tito – who had joined the Metal Workers’ Union before World War I – was named honorary president. His portrait took pride of place in a publication dedicated to the first decade of the ‘new sport collective’.17 In 1950, the Metalac board took the bold step to abandon the ‘new’ club’s name and embrace the old title of BSK, and within three years, the club lifted the Marshal Tito Cup.18 Football enthusiasts in Zagreb reacted badly, with supporters of the newly formed Dinamo calling for the renewal of Grad¯anski. The party investigation unearthed allegations that Tito had admitted that the disbanding of the latter had been a mistake.19 It would remain a hot topic. Implemented fairly or not, many clubs faced liquidation, but tainted players were too valuable to discard. Footballers who had defended the ´ jvide´ki colours of both the out of favour FK Vojvodina and the disgraced U AC competed in socialist Yugoslavia’s inaugural football competitions. Indeed, the level of immunity afforded to talented players was remarkable. When Novi Sad was liberated, the staff of the city’s Serbian-language newspaper – which, among other things, had reported on the Hungarian championship during the occupation – were executed for having served the Hungarian regime. Even a local photographer had been arrested and imprisoned because his photographs of football matches had constituted collaboration with the occupier.20 In contrast, the star footballers in his viewfinder played on, despite having ‘collaborated’ in a far more visible manner. In fact, some of the greatest players of the communist years, including Partizan Belgrade’s Stjepan Bobek, had played for disgraced

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teams throughout World War II. Bobek wore Grad¯anski’s shirt and even represented the Ustasˇa youth in its first international in Italy in 1943. On that occasion, he featured alongside future Partizan teammate Zlatko Cˇajkovski.21 These inconvenient biographical details received no attention in early Partizan publications.22 While the communist authorities embraced footballers, the ongoing participation of tainted sports officials was less welcome. The aforementioned Party commission discussed the negative influences that ‘former people’ exerted upon the game. Alluding to specific instances in both Belgrade and Zagreb, the 1950 report refers to sportsmen with old habits and outlooks: If we consider the coaches of our [Croatian] sports clubs alone, then we see that, for example, the Dinamo coach, [Bernard] Hu¨gl, the Zagreb coach, [Bruno] Knezˇevic´, the Metalac coach, [Anton] Pogacˇnik, then [Ljubomir] Bencˇic´, etc. are politically negative types who cannot carry healthy characteristics into our sport.23 Their alleged crimes were serious. Tainted political pasts included collaboration with, and even active service in, the Gestapo, Ustasˇa and Croatian Homeguard. Hu¨gl had been sentenced to 20 years hard labour because of his Gestapo past, although he was on conditional release by 1950. Comparable types were singled out in Belgrade, including legendary interwar international player Blagoje Marjanovic´, who was described as an ‘amoral and politically negative character’.24 Hence, even the comprehensive remodelling of the game had not been entirely successful in purging undesirable clubs, individuals and their politics. The forcible erasure of the past was just one aspect of Party efforts to recreate football in their own image.

Forging a Socialist Game The towering Hotel Zlatibor is typical of the stylish concrete structures erected all over Yugoslavia during the communist years. It can be found in the Serbian town of Uzˇice. As the partisan capital of the short-lived Uzˇice Republic of 1941, its streets had witnessed fierce fighting and destruction. Amid the fervour that gripped many of its inhabitants after liberation, the victors bestowed the prefix ‘Tito’s’ upon the town (it became Titovo Uzˇice) to mark its revolutionary role. They also transformed the urban landscape. Defining sites from the communist era leap out from the high vantage point of the Zlatibor: the partisan headquarters, the tunnels of their subterranean

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munitions factory and the vast concrete square where Tito’s statue watched over the state’s demise before it too succumbed to another wave of reimagining. Clinging to the hillside at the south end of town, the terraces of the football ground – another product of the revolution – can be made out. Sloboda (Freedom) Uzˇice was a workers’ club that predated and then played an important part in the National Liberation Struggle. Such teams were the seed from which the socialist game bloomed after 1945. At war’s end, Yugoslavia was devastated. Over 800,000 buildings lay in ruins, while industry and infrastructure had been shattered. The country had lost 50 per cent of its railways and 77 per cent of the locomotives that worked them.25 When Hajduk toured the newly established republics, the scale of destruction shocked the players. Upon arrival in the Montenegrin capital Titograd (formerly Podgorica) in 1946, Ljubomir Kokeza and his teammates found ‘what looked more like a pile of rubble than a city’.26 The first elections were held in November 1945. As the Communist Party of Yugoslavia looked to consolidate power, reactivated workers’ clubs like Sloboda Uzˇice eagerly partook in pre-election agitation. The club wore its proud clandestine interwar history as a badge of honour. In 1945, nine first team players were Party members, earning the moniker ‘footballer – communists’, and they played an important political role in guiding the team’s activities.27 Football grounds across the country were harnessed for the campaign. In Novi Sad, Vojvodina walked onto the pitch behind a banner exclaiming: ‘Everyone to the elections!’28 The sporting press made a forceful case for all physical-culturists to back the communist-inspired mass civic organisation, the People’s Front.29 The carefully stage-managed election that followed gave its candidates 90 per cent of the vote, with an 88 per cent turn-out. With this thumping mandate, the new Constituent Assembly set to work on creating a socialist state. The monarchy was abolished and, in 1946, a new constitution was promulgated. Modelled on the 1936 Soviet constitution, it established Yugoslavia as a multi-ethnic federation, where the republics and their inhabitants would enjoy extensive rights and legal protection. However, there was a stark difference between the democratic provisions of the constitution and the political reality of Party rule. The state was highly centralised and, despite the newly elected Constituent Assembly, Tito and the Party elite were the ultimate arbiters. They oversaw the establishment of a socialist economy, complete with state-owned heavy industry and an over-optimistic five-year plan. Like the constitution, the latter was closely modelled on Soviet experience, as the Yugoslav Party looked to emulate their Soviet counterparts in almost every respect. When,

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in 1947, Belgrade was chosen as the headquarters of a new overarching body – the Communist Information Bureau (Cominform) – that brought together the communist parties of Eastern Europe under Soviet tutelage, it was clear that the Yugoslavs enjoyed the reciprocal respect of Moscow.30 At least outwardly, Yugoslavia bore a remarkable resemblance to the other people’s democracies of Eastern Europe, where, in stark contrast to the Yugoslav experience, the revolution had been imposed in the wake of the Red Army advance. The Soviet Union heavily influenced the new physical culture movement. Hajduk’s wartime leadership exploited contacts with Sovietbased individuals to obtain literature that would enable Yugoslavia to follow the Soviet physical culture model.31 After liberation, officials stressed the need to learn from this valuable experience when developing training programmes for footballers. Efforts were made to translate and distribute Soviet manuals as soon as possible.32 In this respect, Yugoslavia was a willing recipient in a process by which the ‘Soviet-pioneered healthoriented system of sport (physical culture) was either imposed upon or adopted by every state that took the road to communism’.33 The press conveyed an abundance of information about Soviet sport. Regular features on its leagues and clubs were juxtaposed with developments in the domestic sphere, serving as a shining example that the peoples of Yugoslavia were encouraged to emulate. The close relationship between Belgrade and Moscow was also cultivated via friendly matches. The Red Army team, TsDKA (Tsentral’nyi dom krasnoi armii, Central House of the Red Army), toured Yugoslavia in the winter of 1945, playing games in Belgrade, Zagreb and Split. These were valuable opportunities to advertise the virtues of the Soviet Union and Comrade Stalin.34 Hajduk officials felt that their wartime exploits entitled them to the honour of being the first Yugoslav club to visit the land of socialism: when the Soviet physical culture delegation arrive in Zagreb, arrange a tour around the USSR for us. We really deserve that, because it would be a disgrace . . . if another team went to the USSR before us.35 The sporting landscape had altered considerably, however, and Hajduk’s suspicions were well-founded. After the Split-based club turned down the opportunity to relocate to the federal capital to represent the army in the postwar peace, the authorities established a new team. The Partizan Sports Society of the Yugoslav Army (Sportsko drusˇtvo jugoslovenske armije, SDJA)

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was closely modelled on its Soviet counterpart and it was the obvious choice for the important mission to the Soviet Union. When Partizan went on tour in 1946, 100,000 spectators purportedly greeted Tito’s representatives in Moscow. Yugoslav radio broadcast live commentary of these fraternal encounters.36 Overlooked, Hajduk had to content itself with more modest missions to Albania, Czechoslovakia and Bulgaria.37 The incipient national team played its first full international in Czechoslovakia in May 1946, with a return match taking place in Belgrade four months later. Yugoslavia’s opponents underlined the direction of the state’s foreign policy: Albania, Romania, Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia, Hungary and Poland queued up to face the reprezentacija.38 Yugoslav sport was a loyal member of the emerging Eastern Bloc. Memories of the divisive interwar years and the interethnic violence that followed ensured that the composition of the national team was a politically sensitive issue. Vjekoslav Perica describes the explicit utilisation of sport as a shining example of ‘brotherhood and unity’. For him, the national team was ‘an efficient instrument of official nationalism’: The reprezentacija epitomized the patriotic idea of brotherhood and unity and brought the idea into action before a large popular

Figure 9 Hajduk Split welcome Soviet officials in 1945. Sˇime Poduje holds his hat on the right. Karlo Grenc Foundation, Split.

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audience. The victories of the multiethnic national team testified to the strength in unity among diverse groups in the multinational federation.39 The opening match against Czechoslovakia brought together footballers from Croatia, Serbia, Bosnia and Macedonia, while players from Yugoslavia’s other constituent nations and nationalities made their way onto the international scene in subsequent years. Domestically, too, the game reinforced new political realities. At the core of the communist pledge to create a more equitable and enduring state was the intention to accommodate the aspirations of the multi-ethnic population. The 1946 constitution defined the Federal People’s Republic of Yugoslavia as a state with six constituent republics. All multi-ethnic to some extent, five of these – Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, Macedonia and Montenegro – were founded upon a single titular nation, while the sixth, Bosnia & Hercegovina, was a diverse mix of Serbs, Croats and the peoples who would eventually be recognised as a distinct Muslim nation. Serbia, the largest republic, also contained two autonomous regions: Vojvodina and Kosovo. Both were ethnically diverse and would be granted ever-greater autonomy over the life of the state (see Map 3). The Football Association of Yugoslavia (Fudbalski savez Jugoslavije, FSJ), founded in 1948, mirrored the federal structure of the country. It had six constituent associations, while the Serbian organisation contained separate bodies for its autonomous regions.40 Delegates from all over the country attended the FSJ’s annual assemblies and, while the organisation faced criticism for being overly centralised, such gatherings ensured that Yugoslavia’s nations and nationalities came into regular contact in the footballing sphere. A succession of esteemed communists, including Rato Dugonjic´ and Miko Tripalo, presided over the FSJ. From the outset, all new physical culture organisations called upon physical-culturists to embrace the National Liberation Struggle and the revolution: that is, to be steadfast protectors of their achievements.41 The months following liberation saw an explosion of new sport societies – most with football departments – imbued with revolutionary ideology. Partizan, with a football team described as ‘Yugoslavia in miniature’ because of its multi-ethnic composition, was the most prominent and privileged, but the newly founded Red Star Belgrade and Dinamo Zagreb soon rose to the challenge.42 Alongside Hajduk, these teams became the most successful in Yugoslavia. New clubs inherited players, supporters and infrastructure from disgraced predecessors. The illustrious Partizan side had a core of talented

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Croatians who were brought to Belgrade from Zagreb at the end of the war; such engineering elicited resentment in the future. Partizan’s drive to acquire the best footballers was not limited to raids on Zagreb. In 1946, the army attempted to capture the talented striker of city rivals Red Star, Rajko Mitic´. They even forced the issue by summoning the player for a second period of military service. Desperate to avoid transfer, Mitic´ made contact with senior communist and Red Star supporter Vladimir Dedijer. Dedijer pleaded with his wartime comrade, Svetozar Vukmanovic´-Tempo, Chief of the Political Administration of the Yugoslav Army Supreme Command, warning of the dangers of playing politics with the game: football is not the five-year plan, or the Battle of Sutjeska, it is a pastime. People here embrace one team or another in a completely irrational manner. It is very emotional. . . . Listen, you were already reading Capital in your third year, but I was born near the football ground. If Mitic´ is forced to transfer from Red Star to Partizan it will create a real political issue . . . the people will not understand . . . . We quarrelled like never before. But Mitic´ did not move to Partizan.43 Dedijer even discussed Partizan’s privileged status with Tito. Such crude manipulation of football risked provoking the ire of the Yugoslav public. Nevertheless, powerful figures across the country attempted to capitalise on football’s popularity in the immediate postwar period. Aside from the army, influential individuals in federal ministries and republic-level institutions strove to establish talented teams and frequently intervened on their behalf. Again, Dedijer’s recollections are illustrative, not least because he subsequently assumed the highest position in Yugoslav physical culture’s administration: In some underdeveloped republics, they just sent junior officials from the Ministry – some of whom were in uniform – to the smaller towns in jeeps, simply to gather the best players and bring them to the republic’s capital. Some newly founded football teams created in that manner were nicknamed ‘regime clubs’ by the people, and even today they are tormented because of their inglorious birth.44 The physical culture movement was proud of the rich content of the new clubs’ names. In Bosnia & Hercegovina, the sporting authorities described

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the names of newly established organisations as ‘a symbol of the new sport and of the aspirations of youth’.45 Elsewhere, teams adopted communist slogans for names, as was the case at Bratstvo –Jedinstvo (Brotherhood – Unity) Becˇej.46 Upholding the revolution was the primary objective for these new clubs. They aspired to bring together workers, peasants and intellectuals, producing within them: a healthy sporting spirit, closely connected to physical culture workers, who will know how to defend the achievements of the National Liberation Struggle and who will place their physical culture activity solely and exclusively in the service of a new and healthy community.47 The raft of new teams joined such communist stalwarts as Velezˇ Mostar, Radnicˇki Belgrade and Sloboda Uzˇice. These latter clubs embraced a new role as heroic forefathers of the state. The five pointed stars ( petokrake) adorning their shirts were no longer a source of conflict with the authorities. Club publications and the sporting press underlined the ultimate sacrifices made by heroic members. In addition to a glorious war record and clandestine activities in the Kingdom, Sloboda Tuzla members emphasised that the club’s interwar composition had mirrored the national complexity of the town, embracing alike Muslims, Serbs, Croats, Jews, Italians and others.48 While Sloboda and its peers became celebrated institutions in the new state, newly founded teams also sought to enhance their legitimacy via ideologically rich pre-war footballers, legendary Spanish Civil War fighters and partisans. At Sloga Pancˇevo, these three attributes were present in one individual, Milan Cˇelebic´, who gave the opening address at the club’s founding in 1945 and played in its first match.49 The close relationship between longstanding workers’ clubs and the Party only deepened after the Party’s resounding election victory. When Tito attended a physical culture jamboree in revolutionary Uzˇice in July 1946, Sloboda’s footballers carried portraits of both the Party leader and Edvard Kardelj, a leading Slovene communist from the highest echelons of the Party, through the streets. This event, which included a football match, was part of the celebration of the Day of the Uprising of the Serbian People.50 Similar politically fuelled displays occurred at the ground of Zˇeljeznicˇar (Railway worker) Nisˇ, where portraits of Tito and Stalin – and the western allies Roosevelt and Churchill – were displayed in late 1944 as part of celebrations marking Russia’s October Revolution.51

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As in other communist states, football and sport in general were important pedagogical tools for preparing the general populous to defend the revolution.52 The FSJ endeavoured to educate footballers both physically and morally, ‘building them into conscious and capable constructors and protectors of their socialist homeland – the fraternal community of the peoples of Yugoslavia’.53 The constituent associations shouldered similar responsibilities. Alongside encouraging physical fitness, these organisations were tasked with undertaking ‘ideological training work and the extra-army military education of club members’.54 The training syllabus for aspiring football coaches was structured to ensure that graduates emerged with a political grounding that was every bit as solid as their sports training. Croatian football coaches had to study a formidable programme of communist politics and history. Long before they were introduced to sports-medicine, hygiene, football tactics and teaching methods, their first task was to master ‘Basic Marxism, Leninism, the history of the National Liberation Struggle and the struggle of the KPJ in building socialism’. The individual components of this topic demonstrate the level of detail involved: ‘2. Capitalism as the final social system founded on exploitation . . . 5. The establishment of the Communist Party of Yugoslavia, its development and work from its foundation until 1937 . . . 11. The Five-Year Plan for building socialism in our country’.55 Partizan also prepared its players carefully for their new social role. Striker Stjepan Bobek later recalled that ‘at that time political classes were part of our everyday work, equally as important as training’. These sessions were not always popular with young footballers, with activities such as studying the state’s complex constitution resulting in widespread confusion.56 Physical-culturists, including elite footballers, were a major resource for rebuilding destroyed infrastructure and constructing a new socialist homeland.57 The country’s athletes threw themselves into a wide variety of ventures. Sloboda Uzˇice’s players chopped wood on local mountains, carried wheat and built roads. They also joined thousands of young people in voluntary, and not so voluntary, work on the construction of the muchpublicised youth railway line between Brcˇko and Banovic´i in 1946, while the whole team was involved in laying the Sˇamac to Sarajevo line the following year.58 Elsewhere, Partizan’s athletes joined the thousands laying the foundations of the new state. Devoting over 22,000 voluntary working hours, they contributed to the regeneration of the war-torn capital and the construction of New Belgrade. Official publications drew attention to the significance of such acts: ‘Shoulder to shoulder with other toilers, they are making a modest contribution to the construction of socialism in our

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country’.59 In 1947, Sloga Novi Sad’s players competed for Yugoslavia’s prestigious shockworker badge by participating in the construction of an embankment along the Danube. One excelled by carting 237 wheelbarrows in just two hours. These mass activities continued well into the 1950s.60 In addition to efforts to reconstruct Yugoslav infrastructure more broadly, physical-culturists rallied to repair the country’s shattered sporting infrastructure. Some of the largest football stadiums in the country were built during the 1940s, and these works were imbued with the communist spirit of creating a new and better society. Scarce state funds were invested in projects deemed to be of federal or republican significance.61 The most prominent of these was the vast Yugoslav People’s Army (Jugoslovenska narodna armija, JNA) Stadium in Belgrade, home of Partizan. The JNA was built to accommodate 60,000 spectators. Soldiers participated in its construction alongside voluntary work brigades of the People’s Youth and the People’s Front. It was the flagship project of the physical culture movement.62 Huge numbers of voluntary hours were also invested in hundreds of smaller projects across the country. In Slovenia, a sports complex for Branik (Defender) Maribor was built with the assistance of the People’s Front, who devoted 100,000 hours.63 Even in relatively remote locations, including the Adriatic islands of Croatia, physical culture societies eagerly laid football pitches in anticipation of competition.64 Back in Uzˇice, over the summer of 1945, the town’s enthusiastic inhabitants threw their efforts into a new football ground only to be informed that the land was needed for a rapid industrialisation drive. Undeterred, by the following spring a makeshift workforce began to craft a new location into a stadium. A short walk from the centre of town, the site burst into life at the end of each working day and on weekends. Sloboda’s footballers were joined by workers’ and youth organisations, trade unions, schools and an army division. Acetylene lamps enabled volunteers to work on the pitch and surrounding terraces late into the night.65 The completed ground was named the ‘24th of September Stadium’ in memory of the town’s first wartime liberation in 1941. When the mighty Partizan visited for a friendly match on the fifth anniversary of this event, the ground was decked out in Yugoslav flags, ‘Hej Slaveni!’ reverberated around the terraces and a local official reminded the 4,000 spectators that Uzˇice, as the first liberated town in the country, had been ‘the metropole’ of the uprising against the occupiers.66 It was all a far cry from the desperate retreat described by Milovan Ðilas, when Tito’s forces had been chased out of the town just two months after that initial, short-lived liberation.67 Within a

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remarkably short period of time, this stadium – and hundreds of others like it – was fit for purpose. A healthy mix of established workers’ clubs and teams forged in revolutionary tumult thus laid a firm foundation for the socialist game. Competition could begin.

Constructing a Federal League for a Federal State During the interwar years, the town of Susˇak stood on Yugoslavia’s Adriatic border with fascist Italy. Today, it is a suburb of Croatian Rijeka and there is little to suggest that a hostile border once ran alongside the Dead Canal (Mrtvi kanal) and Rjecˇina River, severing Susˇak from the centre of what had been the city of Fiume. Although the victorious partisans took control of both sides, liberating the city after heavy fighting in May 1945, the border crossings endured for some time. Well into 1946, Susˇak’s Primorski vjesnik continued to report on Rijeka as if it was a separate territory and permits were required to cross the frontier. The regeneration of Susˇak’s football clubs received extensive attention, but only occasional references to Rijeka’s teams appeared in publications across the canal. Nevertheless, by the end of the year Rijeka and Susˇak had been reunified in Yugoslavia, Tito had delivered a symbolic speech at the site of the former border crossing, and a team from Rijeka had hastily been incorporated into the new First Federal League. Here, at the extremities of the incipient state, the potential for football competitions to serve as an integrative tool was palpable. As was the case on less contested ground, political uncertainty thrust the game into a turbulent state of flux, as football identities became another vehicle for contesting ownership of disputed territories. Prior to World War II, Fiume’s flagship team – Unione Sportiva Fiumana – represented the city in the Italian leagues, where it reached the pinnacle of the game at the end of the 1920s. While Fiumana competed against Juventus and Torino, Orijent Susˇak gradually established itself in the lower leagues of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia.68 Although fraught with division and perpetual change, the interwar league system provided socialist Yugoslavia with a precedent for a state-wide competition. In contrast to a predecessor comprised overwhelmingly of teams from a narrow selection of cities, the postwar league was more inclusive from the outset.69 The first championship, held in Belgrade in September 1945, mirrored the federal composition of the state. Played for the Soviet Anti-Fascist Youth Trophy, it featured representations from each of the federal units, as well as

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teams from the province of Vojvodina and the Yugoslav People’s Army. Though not a club competition, it established a framework for the future domestic league. The Serbian representation emerged victorious. During the trophy presentation, Yugoslav Physical Culture Committee representative Radivoje Markovic´ lauded the inclusive and cohesive competition: This football tournament for the Yugoslav Championship has been a splendid manifestation of the brotherhood and unity of our nations because for the first time, physical culture representatives gathered from all of our federal units, among whom were those who until today had not had the opportunity to appear . . . as well as those who in old Yugoslavia were not only denied the opportunity to develop and advance, but were not even recognised as a nation . . . . Strengthen the brotherhood and unity of our nations! Protect that greatest achievement of our National Liberation Struggle! Because only under those conditions, in a national union under the leadership of our beloved Marshal Tito, does the possibility exist for the universal development of our young physical culture movement.70 In addition to a trophy named in honour of the Soviet Union, the presentation speech underlined a continuing commitment to brotherhood and unity that would fulfil the wishes of that ‘brotherly donor’, reciprocating ‘that boundless love which the Soviet Union showed for us during the Fatherland War and which it shows today, in a time of peace’.71 Tito attended the final and received a resounding greeting from spectators. Prior to the game, he had entertained and bestowed honours upon some of Hajduk’s players – three of whom had competed for the army representation – at the opulent White Palace, where he asked about their extensive propaganda tour.72 The participants for the first club championship in 1946 –7 were deliberately drawn from each polity of federal Yugoslavia. Qualification for the First Federal League began months before it was inaugurated. Initially, clubs competed in regional tournaments for the right to participate in republic and provincial championships. District winners Jedinstvo (Unity) Susˇak earned the right to partake in qualifiers for the Croatian League. To the surprise of everyone in this small town of less than 20,000 inhabitants, they succeeded. In the republic-wide competition, which would determine which teams would represent Croatia at the federal level, humble Jedinstvo faced stiff opposition. Although many of Zagreb’s best

(RE)CONSTRUCTING THE YUGOSLAV GAME, 1945 –8 Table 1

Socialist Yugoslavia’s Inaugural Football Competitions.

1945 Championship

1946–7 First Federal League

NR (Narodna republika, People’s Republic) Croatia

Hajduk Split Dinamo Zagreb Lokomotiva Zagreb Red Star Belgrade Zˇeljeznicˇar/14. Oktobar Nisˇ Metalac Belgrade Zˇeljeznicˇar Sarajevo Pobeda Skopje Buduc´nost Titograd Nafta Donja Lendava Spartak Subotica

NR Serbia NR Bosnia & Hercegovina NR Macedonia NR Montenegro NR Slovenia AP (Autonomna pokrajina, Autonomous Province) Vojvodina Yugoslav Army —— ——

89

Partizan Belgrade Kvarner Rijeka (Istria/Rijeka – NR Croatia) Ponziana Trieste (Free Territory of Trieste, from January 1947)

players had been absorbed by Partizan, the newly founded Dinamo was able to attract very talented footballers. Alongside them, Hajduk – with all the experience of its Mediterranean Tour – was a frightening proposition. It came as no surprise when Hajduk thrashed Jedinstvo 10–0 and went on to earn the right to compete at the federal level.73 This process was replicated in each of Yugoslavia’s constituent units, as republic-level competition reinforced the state’s new internal borders and healed the wounds of wartime dismemberment. By the end of qualification, each federal unit provided at least one team for the First Federal League, providing direct continuity with the 1945 tournament.74 The league also encompassed clubs from the newly acquired and disputed territories of Istria, Rijeka and what became the Free Territory of Trieste. The presence of these teams, and the manner of their incorporation, demonstrates direct political interference in the structuring of this highly symbolic competition (Table 1). Yugoslav partisans entered Italian Trieste in the final days of the war, and the western Allies arrived shortly afterwards. This left the city’s future in doubt, with conflicting claims to sovereignty from both Italy and Yugoslavia. Local supporters of the latter envisaged the region as a potential seventh republic.75 Trieste had a largely Italian-speaking population, but Slovenes inhabited its suburbs and hinterland. As was the

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case in other Italian cities, communism enjoyed significant support, for which the Yugoslav revolution was an alluring proposition. Against this complex backdrop, Belgrade’s Nasˇ sport announced the incorporation of a ‘guest’ team, Ponziana Trieste, into the Yugoslav league at a time when most clubs had already fulfilled five fixtures.76 Italian officials employed football in the same way, with the continued presence of the wellestablished Triestina club in the top Italian competition reinforcing the rival Italian claim to the city. Yet in comparison to Triestina, the unremarkable Ponziana was a small team without any experience of elite football. Despite this, its reputation as a working-class club made it a suitable vehicle for Yugoslav objectives and it benefited from financial and political support.77 Two months after the announcement of Ponziana’s inclusion – just before the establishment of the internationally administered Free Territory of Trieste – the club played its first league match in the city, against Hajduk. Until that point, Ponziana had ‘constantly been the guest’ of other clubs, playing just two matches on ‘neutral terrain’ in nearby Slovenia: The Trieste working masses packed Ponziana’s ground to the rafters. It is thought that the match was attended by over 15,000 spectators, who enthusiastically, and with huge affinity, greeted Split’s footballers as they walked onto the pitch, and for the duration of the match they vented their joy with tumultuous applause at the fact that in Trieste, Yugoslav footballers were playing a match of the Yugoslav Federal Football League.78 The Belgrade press conveyed an unmistakable sense that Yugoslavia and Yugoslavs were welcome in the disputed city. Among the prominent spectators was General Pehacˇek, the head of the Yugoslav Military Mission in Trieste. Glenda Sluga suggests that significant parts of the city’s population – Slovenes and Italians – initially supported inclusion in an openly socialist Yugoslavia. This was based on class consciousness framed by ‘Italo – Slovene brotherhood’ rather than incorporation into Italy on the basis of an Italian national identity tainted by association with fascism and irredentism.79 Regardless of the allegiances of this segment of Trieste’s footballing public, it is clear that Ponziana’s presence in the Federal League aided the authorities in their ultimately unsuccessful attempts to incorporate the city into Yugoslavia. Ponziana’s participation was deemed so important that the poorly performing club was spared relegation at the end of the season, thanks to a politically motivated decision.80

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Ponziana created a host of problems for administrators. The club was discussed at the FSJ’s founding assembly, with logistical difficulties leading to a series of irregularities.81 Of far greater concern was the fact that a small number of prominent footballers exploited Trieste’s ambivalent status to flee Tito’s Yugoslavia. Dinamo goalkeeper Zvonko Monsider used an away match against Ponziana to desert to the west in 1948, and others followed in his footsteps. These were deeply embarrassing episodes for the Party, not least because these e´migre´s openly denounced Yugoslavia’s socialist system.82 Ponziana finished its third season at the bottom of the table. By this stage, it was becoming clear that Trieste’s future was unlikely to be a Yugoslav one and Ponziana quietly disappeared from the league. In 1954, the two countries reached an agreement that saw the city fall under provisional Italian administration, with much of the hinterland going to Yugoslavia, but the issue was not fully resolved for another two decades. By contrast, the acquisition of Rijeka and the peninsula of Istria – with their contentious interwar pasts – turned out to be more successful, though not for the region’s sizeable Italian population. Again, the claim over these disputed territories was reinforced through football. Despite the absence of a territorial settlement, a representative club was incorporated into the First Federal League in 1946. While neighbours Jedinstvo Susˇak went through the gruelling qualification process, eventually finishing bottom of the Croatian League, on the other side of the Dead Canal football reflected the uncertain political situation. A Rijeka championship was held at the beginning of 1946, with Magazzini Generali emerging as champions. However, Rijeka’s clubs were not isolated from their Yugoslav counterparts during this period. Jedinstvo played friendly matches against them, while Dinamo also travelled to the city’s picturesque Kantrida Stadium to face Magazzini Generali in July 1946. Shortly after this, the city’s football landscape underwent drastic change, as clubs fused to form a single team. The new club reflected the complexities of its surroundings. Named after the wider region, its official name was initially given in both Italian and Croatian: Quarnero/Kvarner. This dual identity was captured in its emblem, on which the letters ‘Q’ and ‘K’ were entwined around a red star.83 Within weeks of its establishment, Kvarner participated in a play-off for the right to represent Istria in the First Federal League. They faced Unione Sportiva Operaia (Workers’ Sports Union) from Pula (Pola), where Anglo – American troops were still stationed pending a decision on the town’s status. The team names appeared in their Italian form in Croatian match reports, underlining the uncertain situation.84 Kvarner emerged victorious and were fast-tracked into the First Federal League. However, like Ponziana,

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the team’s campaign only got underway several weeks after the competition began. These latecomers to the elite of Yugoslav football played one another in a friendly prior to joining their First League counterparts.85 The decision to incorporate these teams came late, but fixtures were harnessed as occasions to welcome newly liberated territories and populations to Yugoslavia. When Kvarner travelled to Serbian Nisˇ to play Zˇeljeznicˇar, it was a highly politicised encounter. The hosts went to considerable lengths to welcome the visiting side, presenting bouquets, while the local People’s Front gave them a bronze bust of Marshal Tito. Asked to speak, the Rijeka expedition’s leader shouted, ‘Rijeka is Tito’s!’86 Rijeka’s footballers enjoyed comparable hospitality elsewhere in Serbia, Croatia and Slovenia. Ettore Mazzieri, a journalist who led the expeditions, had fond memories of early matches in Serbia, including a stay in Aleksinac: We hoped for accommodation in a hotel, but they put us up in private houses! What hospitality! That cannot be forgotten. They were difficult postwar times when there was nothing to buy. But with such wonderful hosts, we wanted for nothing . . . . As leader of the expedition I received 20 bouquets of flowers . . . Exceptional ceremonies were arranged at the stadium before kick-off. They simply forced me to talk. I had to agree. There was no way out of it. I spoke in Italian. There were few who understood me, but nevertheless, I received the biggest and longest round of applause that I had ever experienced . . . in my life.87 These jubilant scenes unfolded prior to the reintegration of Rijeka and Susˇak, which occurred in late October 1946. In the international sphere, the fate of Rijeka was not finalised until February of the following year.88 By then, Kvarner had played games across Yugoslavia, as football underscored the fait accompli to the city’s inhabitants, the citizens of Yugoslavia, and the international community. Tens of thousands of Italians left during this period and the Italian ‘Q’ soon disappeared from Kvarner’s crest; it was all part of the process to reinvent Rijeka as a ‘Yugoslav’ city. By 1950, the FSJ proudly noted that the structure of the increasingly complex league system offered competitive equality to Yugoslavia’s constituent nations: Alongside three federal leagues, there are also republic leagues – six in total – in which clubs compete for the championship of their

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First Federal League (1946 – 91): Level of Participation by Federal

Federal Unit Serbia (without provinces) Croatia Bosnia & Hercegovina Vojvodina Macedonia Slovenia Montenegro Kosovo Free Territory of Trieste

Total First League Clubs

Combined Seasons in First League

Overall Participation (%)

Yugoslav Population (%) (1988 figures)92

11

187

26.64

24.8

10 7

174 166

24.79 23.65

19.9 18.8

7 3 3 2 2 1

69 36 28 33 6 3

9.83 5.13 3.99 4.70 0.85 0.42

8.7 8.9 8.2 2.7 8 –

republics. The champions of the republic leagues are promoted to the third federal league. In that way, it is possible for every club in Yugoslavia – in the course of a few years, and if they earn it on merit – to make their way among the best football teams in the country.89 There are strong grounds for comparison with the Soviet Union. When the first All-Union Football League was introduced in the Stalin era, it included clubs from the major cities. A state-wide football league served as ‘yet another institution that could reinforce the sense of cohesion in the far flung multinational state that the USSR had become’.90 During certain periods, the Soviet leagues were manipulated to guarantee each republic was represented at higher levels, but a comparable system was not adopted in Yugoslavia.91 After the First League’s establishment, participation was, at least theoretically, based upon merit – with promotion and relegation – rather than a system of republican quotas. As a result, each republic was represented to a different extent over the years (Appendix and Table 2). Yet, while the league integrated clubs from across the country, the ‘Big Four’ dominated from the outset: Partizan triumphed in 1947 and 1949, while Dinamo and Hajduk won the league in 1948 and 1950 respectively.

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Red Star’s time would come in the 1950s. With just a handful of league places available, many of the esteemed workers’ clubs did not qualify for the elite league in its inaugural season; some of them would reach their zenith in subsequent decades. The structure of the Yugoslav Cup, first played in 1947, also reflected the broader political situation by incorporating entrants from every federal unit. Although teams from Trieste did not enter the competition in the opening rounds, the fact that First and Second League clubs joined at a later stage ensured that Ponziana represented the city. With hundreds of teams participating in this knock-out competition, towns and regions not represented in the federal leagues seized the opportunity to shine by reaching the cup’s latter stages. The competition was explicitly linked to the Party’s highest echelons through Tito’s donation of a trophy.93 This gift offered yet ‘more evidence of the attention devoted to physical culture and sport by the people’s government and the highest leadership’.94 While the structure was all-inclusive, the first editions of the Marshal Tito Cup were won by privileged clubs with the most resources: Partizan triumphed in 1947, before neighbours Red Star lifted the trophy three times in a row. Physical culture leaders recognised that league and cup competitions were an expedient way to bring Yugoslavia’s nations together: football . . . has great significance for the familiarisation of athletes from one part of our country with athletes from another part, and in that sense it can be a very powerful means of drawing together our athletes, for the acquainting of individual regions and of our nation.95 In this way, the First Federal League and Marshal Tito Cup played an important part in mapping the ‘imagined communities’ of the new federal polity.96 Along with sports journalism, these competitions helped to create the image of a unified state by bringing geographically dispersed clubs into contact on a regular basis. On occasion, such an image was literally presented to Yugoslav citizens. In 1951, Partizan published a map, plotting the team’s away fixtures across the country in the five years since the end of the war: dozens of neat black lines emanating from Belgrade faithfully delineated the shape of the new state. The newly incorporated Pula, Zadar and Rijeka all featured, as well as disputed Trieste.97 In the space of a few postwar years, the football authorities succeeded in creating a powerful integrative force.

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Immediate Challenges Football thrived, attracting large crowds, but it faced substantial problems from the start. Some of the scandals and fraught relations that blighted the socialist game throughout its existence were present in the 1940s. Initial contact between Hajduk and the newly founded Red Star – from the Serbian and federal capital of Belgrade – did not bode well. In October 1945, the latter was scheduled to visit Split to mark the first anniversary of the city’s liberation. As the date approached, Hajduk’s leadership were exasperated by Red Star’s failure to reply to their correspondence, but they kept trying: ‘We cannot imagine that you will fail to fulfil our agreement’. Hajduk had already travelled to Belgrade to face Red Star. In their efforts to establish contact, Hajduk also wrote to the leading physical culture organisations in the Yugoslav capital, noting that the national government wanted the symbolic match.98 Several days later, still without a response, Hajduk’s Sˇime Poduje wrote a letter with a more serious tone: You well know that our clubs are living hand to mouth, especially those which were totally destroyed and plundered by the occupiers. Even if we do not take that into account, in our new physical culture, our new sport, contracts should be fulfilled and obligations undertaken in their entirety. Otherwise it would mean that we have not made any progress in that direction. . . . The committee, which is preparing a large celebration, foresaw the match between you and us as part of the celebrations, so from this perspective as well your cancellation would be very awkward. What is most inappropriate of all, however, is that up until today we still know nothing about your arrival.99 These efforts were to no avail. On a highly poignant day for Split and the whole of Yugoslavia, a disappointed Hajduk faced a team cobbled together from the city’s other clubs.100 Later, in September 1946, Nasˇ sport condemned the behaviour of players, coaches and supporters during a match between Red Star and Dinamo Zagreb. The morally righteous article begins by spelling out the aims of the physical culture movement, which included ‘the training and preparation of healthy people who will be useful members of our society’.101 Having emphasised these ideals, the anonymous author condemns regrettable ‘periodic cases’ in which the ‘scandalous behaviour of individuals’ brings shame upon the whole movement. The specific incident that triggered the piece involved prominent

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international and Red Star footballer Kosta Tomasˇevic´, who struck an opposing player in an off-the-ball incident. It escalated for two reasons. Firstly, Red Star’s coach, Bane Sekulic´, protested against the referee’s decision, abusing his role as editor of sports columns to highlight the ‘inappropriate’ decision of the referee. The second, and surely more worrying, development was that at the time of Tomasˇevic´’s infringement ‘a small group in the crowd reacted inappropriately and some chauvinist outbursts, thrown out by a few conscious enemies of our country and the new physical culture, were also heard’.102 In the absence of more precise information, one can only assume that such ‘chauvinist outbursts’ were of an ethnic nature, for it is difficult to envisage why individuals chanting sports-related obscenities would otherwise be condemned as ‘conscious enemies of our country’. Having outlined the inappropriateness of physical violence, excessive questioning of refereeing decisions and ‘biased and prejudiced writing in the press’, the article welcomes the imposition of a three-month playing ban for Tomasˇevic´ and the expulsion of Sekulic´ from his positions as Red Star coach and Glas journalist. Sekulic´ later served the Croatian Party commission as a prime example of the kind of ‘politically negative types’ who blighted Belgrade sport in the postwar era.103 Yet, the newspaper’s condemnation of the crowd and media exploitation highlighted the fears of the new authorities: The Belgrade public – as the public of the capital city of our republic and the whole country – should set an example for everybody else. The attempt of a few, who have no connection with our sport and physical culture whatsoever, an attempt which had an enemy character – should be suppressed more energetically.104 The piece concludes as it began, by underlining the potential for sporting events to serve as ‘manifestations of brotherhood and unity’, such as ‘fraternal fixtures between Belgrade and Zagreb representations’.105 Nevertheless, a fixture between the same two teams would play a symbolic role in Yugoslavia’s disintegration over forty years later. This event was by no means the only cause for concern. Matches on the northern shores of the Adriatic rarely passed without incident. In the same month as the unsavoury scenes in Belgrade, Susˇak’s Primorski vjesnik explained that ‘subversive elements’ were attempting to use football to stir up ‘hate among our people and destroy the most sacred achievements of the National Liberation Struggle’. This ‘return to the old, pre-war sporting mentality’ needed to be eliminated immediately. Just nine matches into the

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inaugural Croatian League, poor crowd behaviour and pitch invasions had become so disruptive that the authorities threatened struggling Jedinstvo with ground closure.106 A year later, Miroslav Kreacˇic´, secretary of the Yugoslav Physical Culture Association, mourned the persistence of: a whole series of incidents which paint a dirty picture of the situation in our football, which wrongly affect the development of our sport, which mistakenly educate young people, which sully the reputation of our physical culture organisation.107 Yet he put a positive spin on the situation, emphasising that ‘in relation to the pre-war era our players have taken a large step forward’. Unsavoury incidents included player drunkenness, violence against referees and the existence of ‘boastful and immodest’ attitudes. For Kreacˇic´, the most serious and persistent problem was klubasˇtvo, ‘the extremely unhealthy and sickly phenomenon of excessive club loyalty’, at its highest point since liberation.108 Noting that klubasˇtvo manifested in diverse ways, Kreacˇic´ described examples where cities had divided into two factions, provoking mass brawls. He denounced the many communist comrades who participated in such fights and stressed the need for national organisations to collectively tackle the phenomenon.109 From a very early stage, football’s governing bodies were aware of the need to eliminate undesirable undercurrents in the game. By the time that the Croatian Party investigation into ‘negative phenomena in sport’ was commissioned in 1950, the situation had become so serious that the Party felt the need to intervene. Alongside encroaching professionalism, a clandestine transfer market and violence against referees, the commission unearthed a wealth of evidence concerning problems of a potentially subversive nature. During this foundational period, football clearly served as a forum for the expression of sentiments that ought to have no place in socialist physical culture. Focusing upon incidents in Zagreb, the report noted an increase in disorder, especially on occasions when clubs from Serbia visited the Croatian capital: At the BSK – Dinamo match, the crowd shouted ‘Cˇetniks’ at the BSK players, and the BSK players mocked and insulted the crowd. Fever pitch was reached at the end of the match, when the crowd invaded with the intention of beating BSK players and the referee, breaking the windows of the coach in which the BSK players were located. The mounted police who were drafted in to assist repulsed the attacking crowd for half an hour.110

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At a training match between a Yugoslavia ‘B’ team and a Zagreb representation, Red Star’s Tomasˇevic´ – at the heart of the aforementioned 1946 incident – was insulted by the local crowd, with chants of ‘Cˇetnik bandit’, ‘Serbian cutthroat’ and ‘thief’. The report raised concerns over the state’s ability to tackle such behaviour: Last year it was easier to find the culprits, because the crowd located such types itself and handed them over to the police, but this is made more difficult this year by the fact that several hundred, or thousand, people are chanting at the same time111 Incidents were not limited to high-profile matches in large urban centres. Lower league games between Granicˇar (Border Guard) Zˇupanje and Sloga (Harmony) Borovo were also problematic. While both teams hailed from Croatia’s eastern Slavonia, the latter settlement, next to Vukovar, had a large Serb majority. Fixtures ‘regularly result[ed] in clashes between players and the crowd. One group calls the other “Ustasˇe”, while they respond with “Cˇetniks”’.112 Neither were nationalist outbursts restricted to clashes between Serbs and Croats. Separate incidents involved Croatia’s minorities, including the vulnerable Italians of newly incorporated Istria: At a match between Jedinstvo Zagreb and Proleter Pula, held in Pula, there was fighting between the players on the pitch and in the changing rooms, and also among the crowd before the end of the game. The Jedinstvo players screamed at the players of Proleter that they were Italian fascists.113 Given the worrying precedents of the interwar Kingdom and the fratricidal war years, the authorities were most concerned about official relations between Belgrade and Zagreb. Here too, there was cause for concern. The issue of relations between the federal centre and the constituent republics was never far from the surface throughout the socialist period. As mirror images of the Yugoslav state, federal sports associations were susceptible to infighting. The Croatian Party commission devoted considerable attention to the poor state of affairs between Zagreb and the overarching federal bodies, highlighting the potential for destructive chauvinism: All negative phenomena in sport, mistaken decisions and other shortcomings, are used by chauvinist elements for the stirring of national intolerance. All of that is in some way steered in the

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form of the struggle between Zagreb and Belgrade, i.e. the defence of Croatian sport, especially football, from the hegemonic efforts of Belgrade. All of these irregularities, especially those initiated by the central associations, are interpreted as the latters’ efforts to weaken Croatian sport. These mistakes are discussed among the sporting public and public opinion is formed – clearly under the influence of enemies – that Belgrade is guilty for everything.114 Although the report presented such anti-Belgrade – and even anti-Serb – perceptions as unjustified, the authors drew attention to what they perceived as legitimate concerns with bureaucratic centralism. In the process, sport’s difficulties were linked directly with contemporary political aspirations to decentralise governance and decision making across the federation: The central associations in Belgrade hold a number of responsibilities that should be performed by associations in the republics . . . . In this way, for example, the Football Association of Yugoslavia has the sole right to punish footballers and clubs from the federal leagues. . . . The administrations of clubs and republican associations should have more freedom to solve problems . . . . Sports associations, and the club as the primary unit of our sport, should be assisted to work independently. When decentralisation is being carried out in the economy and the national government, it is illogical that this cannot be done in sport. If the management of the largest enterprises can be handed over to workers, the right to punish . . . [players at Croatian clubs] can be given to the Football Association of Croatia.115 Loudly echoing the interwar dispute, the report took issue with the FSJ’s insistence upon playing important matches in Belgrade. This needed to be addressed, so as not ‘to give chauvinist elements the possibility . . . to come to conclusions and to have a negative influence upon the sporting public’.116 In fairness, the FSJ was well aware of a number of problems that needed to be resolved.117 Moreover, the authors of the Party commission highlighted the shortcomings of Croatia’s physical culture and football organisations, which ‘because of their incompetence and insufficient concern and persistence to solve ensuing problems, opportunistically started to place the blame for all mistakes on the Belgrade associations’.118

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In its recommendations, the commission stressed the need for physical culture authorities to examine the question of decentralisation before taking appropriate action. Specifically, the FSJ was urged to surrender its right to punish federal league footballers and devolve this responsibility to the constituent republics. This debate would continue to rage in the following decades. More concretely, the commission called for the removal of a number of sporting officials and journalists. Among them were nine physical culture functionaries who, among other things, were guilty of ‘creating a sporting front in Croatia against sport in Serbia’.119 *** Even at this early stage, football was not an exclusively positive tool in the construction of a state founded upon ‘brotherhood and unity’. Allencompassing federal competitions and the reprezentacija aided in Yugoslavia’s establishment and the defining of its borders. The filtering of clubs on an ideological basis also facilitated football’s role as a loyal bastion of the revolution. Yet, the remade game was a fertile plain for chauvinism and the expression of competing political and national alternatives. From the outset, it provided a suitable stage from which nationalist football supporters, players and officials could expound monoethnic objectives. The national question was just one of many undesirable phenomena which continued to manifest in the game. To borrow Anthony Cardoza’s phrase, used to describe the contribution of cycling to Italian nation building, the role of football in these early socialist years was decidedly ‘double-edged’.120

CHAPTER 4

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A GOLDEN AGE'? PRESTIGE, PROBLEMS AND THE THIRD WAY' AFTER 1948

Dedinje, a wealthy suburb of Belgrade, sits away from the bustle of Yugoslavia’s former capital. Opulent buildings adorned with flags line pleasant leafy streets. This well-guarded concentration of foreign embassies was home to Tito’s official residence. It is initially surprising to find two of the largest stadiums in the former Yugoslavia in this part of town; until recently, the Indian embassy was just across the road from Red Star’s cavernous Marakana Stadium, while Partizan’s JNA is a short walk to the north. On match days, the serene atmosphere is shattered as thousands descend upon either of the two grounds. This geographical juxtaposition is entirely apt: throughout socialist Yugoslavia’s existence, these and other stadiums performed complementary roles to the neighbouring embassies. Through football, the state nurtured relations across the globe, and the game did much to boost Yugoslav prestige after a perilous rupture with the Soviet Union. The international fixture list at any given time said much about Yugoslavia’s place in the world. National team star Stjepan Bobek noted that footballers ‘were ambassadors of Tito’s Yugoslavia’ during the turbulent 1950s.1 Stadiums regularly hosted national representations and heads of state, while Yugoslav sides typified the ‘inveterate travellers’ that their nation had become.2 As Tito’s foreign policy evolved into a unique Cold War balance centred on the politics of non-alignment with either of the opposing blocs, the country’s footballers stood in the vanguard of diplomacy. In contrast, the domestic game’s contribution during the 1950s and 1960s was rather mixed. The country’s most popular sport continued to

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reflect and underpin the achievements of the revolution. Like the rest of society, it evolved as the Party gradually liberalised and decentralised the state. Yet, the game’s popularity exposed it to all manner of abuse. The complex and fragile football landscape was a continuous cause of concern. The Party swiftly intervened when scandals and incidents threatened the multi-ethnic society, or even the revolution itself. Two matches, played at the beginning of this period, set the tone for football’s ambivalent relationship with politics for two decades. The first, in distant Finland, was a glorious dawn that heralded the Yugoslav game’s pioneering engagement with third world football. The second, on Dalmatia’s palm-lined shores, established a precedent for direct Party intervention in the domestic sphere.

The Tito– Stalin Split In the summer of 1952, Yugoslavia’s star attacking partnership, Rajko Mitic´ and Stjepan Bobek, published their Olympic Diary, printed on pulp paper for an eager mass readership.3 Extensive media coverage of the Helsinki Games made it virtually impossible to avoid the events inside these hastily assembled volumes, but thousands of Yugoslavs were hungry for more. Coming at a politically and economically difficult time, the Olympic football tournament had generated enormous interest across embattled Yugoslavia. After four years of exclusion and hostility from the people’s democracies of Eastern Europe, the competition provided Tito’s defiant state with an opportunity to fight back. The reprezentacija grasped it with both hands. The Communist Information Bureau (Cominform) was designed to enable Europe’s communist parties to gather on an equal footing, but it was dominated by the Soviet Union. In its privileged position as Cominform headquarters, Belgrade enjoyed close political and sporting relations with Moscow and its satellites after liberation. Differences of opinion between the Yugoslav Party and their Soviet comrades, however, strained relations from the outset. In particular, Yugoslavia’s confident foreign policy placed the infant state on a collision course with Moscow. Frustrated at Tito’s aspirations in Trieste, his refusal to follow the Soviet line in the Balkans and Yugoslavia’s provocative conduct in the Greek Civil War, Stalin attempted to bring his ally to heal. A plan to reduce Yugoslav autonomy by forcing it into a federation with loyal Bulgaria failed miserably. Stalin withdrew Soviet advisors in 1948 and sent a series of bad-blooded letters to Belgrade accusing the Yugoslavs of being ungrateful, of belittling the Red Army’s role in liberating its territory, and – most worryingly – of ideological

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deviations. Shocked at Moscow’s full-frontal attack, the Yugoslav response was tenacious: ‘No matter how much each of us loves the land of socialism, the USSR, he can, in no case, love his country less, which also is developing socialism’.4 Belgrade refuted most of the accusations, but it was a lost cause. In June 1948, Yugoslavia was expelled from the Cominform. The Eastern bloc soon declared that their erstwhile ally had degenerated further, ‘from bourgeois nationalism to fascism’.5 The Yugoslav leadership’s capacity to withstand the subsequent years of hostility was a measure of how badly Stalin had misjudged the vitality of Yugoslavia’s home-grown revolution. Yet survival came at an enormous cost: Tito’s state stood alone in an unfriendly, increasingly bipolar world. Sudden isolation had a considerable impact upon a state that had proudly emulated the ‘land of socialism’. A wave of political repression swept the country, as those deemed loyal to Stalin were purged from their positions and imprisoned on the barren wastes of Goli otok (Bare Island). Extensive trade with the communist economies plummeted to nothing and living standards fell accordingly. Yugoslavia already received financial assistance from the West and, seeing an opportunity to weaken the Soviet hold over world communism, the United States and Western Europe embraced Belgrade’s defiance. This had immediate implications for the economy as the trickle of Western trade and aid became a deluge. Alongside this westward turn, the Party re-examined itself and embarked on an independent road to communism. The split compelled the leadership to redefine its leading role in society so as to stand apart from a Soviet system condemned as undemocratic. Ideological innovations in workers’ democracy, which evolved into self-management socialism, were at the centre of Yugoslavia’s experiment. The Party even embraced a new name to underline its evolution: the League of Communists of Yugoslavia (Savez komunista Jugoslavije, SKJ). Despite this tentative liberalisation and a relaxation of the communist grip, the Party remained unchallenged in the political sphere.6 The rupture forced Yugoslav sport, so closely modelled on Soviet physical culture, in new directions. As in politics, sports officials worked to persuade citizens that ‘Yugoslavia had to find its own way without copying other countries and their experiences’.7 Footballers and coaches received political instruction on the new situation. Aspiring coaches in Croatia were taught about the Party’s struggle ‘against the revision of Marxism – Leninism by the Cominform’.8 Yet, the most visible change for the sporting public was a complete cessation of matches with erstwhile Eastern European allies. Instead, the reprezentacija and club sides nurtured and expanded preexisting links with the West.

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Four long years after the bitter rift with Moscow, the Olympics presented Yugoslavia’s footballers with an opportunity. The 1952 Games, held in Finland, witnessed the participation of Soviet athletes for the first time.9 A highly rated football team was an important part of the Soviet delegation, and it coveted the gold medal. Serendipitously, the second-round draw pitted Yugoslavia against the Soviets in what would be the first encounter since the split. The Yugoslavs had earned the silver medal in London four years earlier. Suddenly, both national teams acquired an additional, symbolic dimension. The Olympics provided the Yugoslav press with ample opportunity to mock their former allies, not least because the secretive Cominform squads were isolated in a separate camp. Mitic´ and Bobek drew attention to this self-imposed isolation, noting that Cominform flags were conspicuously absent in the Olympic village.10 Press reports mocked the alleged amateur status of Soviet athletes, the fact that the domestic game had been subordinated in pursuit of Olympic victory and the extensive preparations behind efforts to dominate the medal table.11 This coverage had a decidedly hypocritical edge: in spite of the rhetoric, the Yugoslav game was still closely modelled on Soviet practice and the country’s elite footballers were hardly amateurs themselves. Moreover, the 1952 Yugoslav First Federal League was deliberately restructured to suit the requirements of the Olympic squad.12 Nevertheless, the forensic critique of Soviet sport went into overdrive when news of the draw reached Belgrade. Journalists even hinted that the arrogant Soviets benefited from performance-enhancing drugs. In contrast, Yugoslavia’s athletes were depicted as competitors who embraced the true Olympic spirit.13 Every member of the reprezentacija was aware of the magnitude of the occasion. Decades after the event, Bobek explained the mood: The majority of us didn’t know much about politics, but some primordial feeling of justice told us that our Party was in the right, that we were being slandered . . . . Therefore, even before it started, we experienced that match as a struggle for our just cause.14 In a manner few other activities afforded, football forced the opposing sides to face one another on equal terms. For the Soviets, the match was an awkward hurdle in their pursuit of Olympic gold. For the Yugoslavs, it was a rare opportunity to make a stand. In Tampere, where the match was played, it looked initially as though the Yugoslavs would win with embarrassing ease. With fifteen minutes to

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go, the Soviets were 5 –1 down. Considering the job done, the reprezentacija relaxed, allowing their opponents to stage a remarkable comeback. The equaliser came in the final seconds. Leading official Mihailo Andrejevic´ later recalled that he had been on the verge of tears at the final whistle, as the political situation had drastically heightened the emotions of all involved.15 Vladimir Dedijer, who was in New York at the time of the game, explained the impact of the Soviet comeback on the morale of his compatriots: ‘my friends in Belgrade told me that the atmosphere was one of national mourning when the Russians started scoring’.16 For the goalkeeper, Vladimir Beara, the surrender of such a commanding lead was hard to take. His teammates, who struggled to sleep after the game, saw Beara leave his bed, get dressed and walk outside. Between three and six in the morning he wandered the deserted streets of Tampere.17 The 5 –5 draw triggered a replay two days later. The free-scoring drama only heightened interest. Dozens of foreign journalists took the train to Tampere, joining thousands of spectators. Frustrated by local backing of the Yugoslav side, the Soviets mobilised a ‘supporting machine’ of their own. The Yugoslav press eagerly reported that the entire Hungarian Olympic delegation had been dispatched to Tampere to cheer their Cominform allies.18 It is unsurprising that local loyalties favoured Yugoslavia. Finns suffered immensely at the hands of the Red Army during the 1940s. After the war, the Soviet Union extracted substantial territorial and financial reparations, while the Finnish government only avoided being dragged into the Eastern bloc through a series of skilful compromises with Moscow.19 Eager to atone for their lapsed concentration, the Yugoslav team were emboldened by thousands of telegrams from all corners of the homeland. One from Tito and senior Party members was read out prior to kick-off.20 As Vujadin Bosˇkov ran onto the pitch he told the amassed journalists that: ‘We are not alone, the whole of Yugoslavia is with us’.21 Ninety minutes later, jubilant Finns carried Bosˇkov and his teammates off the field. Yugoslavia won the game 3– 1. As the team bus attempted to leave the stadium, thousands of well-wishers thronged the streets, chanting ‘Yugoslavia! Yugoslavia!’ On board, the players celebrated by singing patriotic partisan songs.22 The squad dispatched a telegram to Tito to inform him of the news and the domestic press relayed every detail to eager readers.23 Reporters contrasted the elation of the Yugoslavs and Finns with the dejection of their defeated opponents: It is as if the USSR footballers comprehended that this joy was not just the result of a sporting victory, but also the echo of the feelings of

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a small nation. It was no coincidence that they were so alone in this enormous crowd, alone in the middle of a world that doesn’t like them.24 The Tampere scenes were replicated on squares across Yugoslavia. Tens of thousands gathered beneath loudspeakers to listen to the radio broadcast. The commentary of Hrvoje Macanovic´ and Radivoje Markovic´ became legendary. Markovic´ encapsulated the occasion’s political symbolism by explaining that ‘[t]his Olympic team of ours . . . delivered a heavy blow to Stalin and the Cominform’.25 The final whistle sparked cheers in every republic and province, as spontaneous celebrations erupted from Slovenia to Kosovo. In Sarajevo, revellers fired shots into the evening air. The largest outpouring of joy occurred in Belgrade, where crowds gathered before the Central Committee building, waving flags in support of the Party and chanting politically saturated slogans: ‘Ours are better than Stalin’s stooges’, ‘Ours are better than the Cominform boys’, and ‘Tito’s players are stronger’.26 Yugoslavia stood victorious and defiant in the face of Soviet aggression. In subsequent weeks, the triumph was presented as a deserved win over an opponent that – as in the political sphere – used rough play and dirty tactics. The fate of the arrogant Soviet footballers provided an opportunity to explore the harsh realities of life under Stalin. Satirical cartoons depicted a broken squad performing hard labour in the Gulag.27 Yet contrary to such depictions, though hundreds of athletes were sent to Siberia during the Stalinist era, none of the disgraced Olympic team were imprisoned for their failings.28 Regardless of this inconvenient detail, the symbolism was immense: With the whole of Yugoslavia standing behind them . . . our footballers routed the national team of the Soviet Union and brought a victory to their socialist homeland . . . . But they also did something more with this victory: at the same time they routed the myth which Cominform propaganda artificially created, presenting . . . Soviet footballers as unbeatable.29 The squad enjoyed a hero’s welcome upon their return. Tito congratulated them at a special reception, while each player received a reward, paid in US dollars.30 Yugoslavia’s defeat in the final at the hands of Cominform Hungary did little to take the gloss off of this victory. In subsequent decades, Tampere became a keystone in the collective memory of

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Yugoslavia’s tenacious survival, relayed to later generations via film references and other cultural media.31 It served as proof that, unlike their opponents, the Yugoslav Party was on the right path. The 1952 triumph was no flash in the pan. The reprezentacija regularly proved itself capable of competing with the strongest opposition during Yugoslav football’s ‘golden age’.32 Between 1950 and 1962, Yugoslavia qualified for the World Cup Finals four times in a row. The team reached the quarter-finals in 1954 and 1958, earning fourth place in Chile four years later.33 In the European Championships, the reprezentacija fared even better, reaching the final in both 1960 and 1968, succumbing to a postStalin Soviet Union and Italy, respectively. The Olympic side, effectively a youth team after Tampere, won its third silver medal in a row at Melbourne in 1956. Defeat at the hands of the Soviet Union in the final was atoned for four years later, when the team won gold in Rome.34 The country’s players were highly rated abroad. When a continental XI was assembled to face England at Wembley in 1953, four of the European team hailed from Yugoslavia.35 All of them had contributed to the Tampere victory.

The ‘Third Way’ Expulsion from the Cominform revolutionised Yugoslavia’s foreign relations and football reflected deepening diplomatic and economic ties with Western Europe. As the ‘centre of gravity of foreign tours needed to be transferred to the West’, the country’s leading clubs embarked upon exhaustive but highly lucrative expeditions.36 Foreign currency earnings were clearly an alluring prospect, but matches also enabled footballers to contribute ‘to the struggle for the victory of truth’.37 In 1949, Hajduk toured distant Australia, where ‘misinformed’ expatriates lived in large numbers. A pressing task was ‘to spread the truth about . . . the new Yugoslavia’ and its efforts to build socialism.38 Then, in 1953, Stalin’s death led to a rapprochement with communist Eastern Europe and a resumption of matches against Eastern bloc states. As a result, Yugoslav clubs played a formidable number of games against sides from both Cold War blocs. The Tito –Stalin Split pushed Yugoslav diplomacy in an innovative new direction, one in which football played a more direct diplomatic role. The game stood in the vanguard of efforts to expand ties, especially with the developing world. In 1949, Tito explained that sport was crucial for small states trying to establish a place in the world and that Yugoslavia had an important role:

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Figure 10 Split.

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Hajduk arrive in Melbourne in 1949. Karlo Grenc Foundation,

we should demonstrate what a completely free country building socialism, even a small one, can achieve when it develops its strengths. Because, the theory that only large countries, large nations, can achieve good results in sport or in science is mistaken and exceptionally harmful.39 As a diplomatic tool, football could be deployed rapidly. For instance, Yugoslavia’s recognition of Israel shortly after its establishment in 1948 was accompanied by reciprocal visits by the countries’ national teams in the following year.40 To reinforce emerging economic and cultural ties, a Tel Aviv representation played in Sarajevo. The Non-Aligned Movement was officially formed at the Belgrade Conference of 1961, but its seed was planted at the beginning of the 1950s, as the leaders of Yugoslavia, India and Egypt came together through the United Nations over the Korean War. As the benefits of cultivating relations beyond the predominant Cold War blocs became apparent, Tito embarked on high-profile diplomatic visits. He created a new role for Yugoslavia as his diplomats signed cooperation agreements with a diverse array of African and Asian states. A goodwill trip to Ethiopia in 1951 sparked interaction in various areas. Emperor Haile Selassie visited Belgrade three years later and

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Figure 11 Sarajevo footballers face visiting Tel Aviv in the partially built Kosˇevo Stadium in 1949. FK Sarajevo Collection. Tito travelled to Ethiopia soon afterwards. As relations blossomed with a growing number of governments, reciprocal missions of military personnel, economic experts, trade union leaders and artists travelled between Yugoslavia and other states at the forefront of the incipient multinational movement.41 Despite – or perhaps because of – the fact that football in most of these developing nations was at an early stage in its development, Yugoslavia’s footballers were ambassadors at a time of deepening cultural ties. The Yugoslavs faced an emerging ally prior to their famous victory in Tampere, defeating India 10– 1, and the Egyptian national team visited Belgrade en route home from Finland.42 By 1954, the Yugoslav national team had made a reciprocal visit to Egypt, a Yugoslav, Ljubisˇa Broc´ic´, was in charge of the Egyptian national team and Yugoslav clubs had played matches in Cairo. A grainy image of Red Star’s players holding the banner ‘Long live a free and independent republic of Egypt’ underlines the fact that these visits were inherently political.43 Red Star’s Branko Nesˇovic´ shared his impressions in the sporting press. He and his teammates ran onto the pitch in Alexandria carrying the new black, red and yellow flag of the Republic of Egypt: ‘Fifty thousand spectators enthusiastically applauded the flag of their revolution and the young men from a distant country, which they know is friendly towards them’. Yugoslav teams generally won these uncompetitive matches by high margins. Nevertheless, symbolically and politically, they were as important as results against the world’s best teams. Football enabled Yugoslavia to reach out to the citizens of new allies, but it was also a means of familiarising Yugoslavs with distant states and

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cultures. Red Star’s trip to Egypt was part of a broader tour, encompassing Sudan and Ethiopia. Nesˇovic´ captures the value of such expeditions: For every one of us the notion ‘Africa’ means something distinct. At the utterance of that word, various exotic things appear before your eyes: the Sahara, the pyramids, black people, impenetrable jungle, wild animals . . . I was on that continent for 42 days: too short a time for me to become acquainted with Africa, but nevertheless sufficient to take away unforgettable impressions from visits to three friendly countries – Egypt, Sudan and Ethiopia. That is the primary thing by which I, even when I no longer play football, will remember this tour: I felt more like a willingly received guest and only partially like a footballer of a team from far-off, cold Europe.44 The ‘brave nation’ of Ethiopia, where Yugoslavs were ‘highly valued’, extended warm hospitality. Tens of thousands packed onto mud-hewn terraces to watch Red Star, Emperor Haile Selassie among them. He hosted the team at his palace and showered them with gifts. But, in language that now makes for uncomfortable reading, readers in Yugoslavia were also given a sense of the poverty of these places and of instances when sporting diplomacy went wrong: I was interested in their weapons and I took a spear from a black man and threw it like our athletes do. The native became extremely angry. He shouted and our guide had difficulty playing down this insult that I had unintentionally caused.45 Yugoslavia’s leading clubs all embarked on tours in the early 1950s. Hajduk ventured to Morocco in 1953 – alongside tours of South America and Western Europe – while FK Sarajevo toured the Middle East.46 Belgrade Sport Club travelled to Syria and Lebanon in 1954, a route replicated by Dinamo Zagreb the following year. The latter, which included matches in Greece, Cyprus and Egypt, was a gruelling 56-day experience. Dinamo depicted it as a glowing success from a political and financial perspective, but the worn-out players were less enthusiastic. Again, the matches were important state occasions: Yugoslavia’s airline placed an aircraft at Dinamo’s disposal and footballers regularly fraternised with heads of state.47 In the winter of 1955, a Yugoslav youth team supplemented by experienced internationals embarked on a tour of East Asia. Vujadin Bosˇkov,

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a veteran of the 1952 Olympic side, subsequently published an account of his experiences. More of a travelogue than a book about football, Bosˇkov explores the colonial histories of destinations, comments on contemporary political developments and highlights the elements which bound Yugoslavia to these exotic lands. Spending time in Burma, Indonesia, Hong Kong and China, the players returned home with a highly developed awareness of their political role: For us the Asian tour was not just a great sports-tourism adventure. Every one of us, who has a political sense, returned . . . as a more rounded person. . . . We were, above all, enriched with new pride – pride in the fact we are Yugoslavs. The Asian nations don’t have many positive experiences of the white man. On the whole of that great continent there exists an antipathy, provoked by colonial exploitation, towards whites. For centuries they were wholly seized by the ambition to exploit lands and people – to use a more precise term – to plunder. But the Asian peoples know how to think politically, they know how to value friends, and they have never seen anything else in us, other than friends from Tito’s country. We felt that at every step . . . . I don’t want to praise us representatives, but I think that I am allowed to say that with our play, and our behaviour and posture off the pitch, we undoubtedly contributed something towards confirming the attitudes that our hosts hold about us.48 Politics saturated the trip. In Beijing, the youth teams walked onto the pitch with Chinese and Yugoslav flags. On the roof of the packed stand, a slogan written in both Chinese and Serbo –Croat emphatically declared: ‘Long live the fraternal friendship between the countries and peoples of China and Yugoslavia’.49 Throughout Bosˇkov’s account, descriptions of exotic locations and habits bombarded the contemporary Yugoslav reader, as well as photographs of impossibly beautiful temples and mysterious topless women. However, alongside these orientalist depictions, Bosˇkov outlined anti-colonial struggles, China’s revolution, a distinct Burmese socialism saturated with Buddhist philosophy, and Indonesia’s moderate Islam. With the exception of ‘reactionary’ Hong Kong, presented as an abhorrent colonial port of ‘smuggling, trade, criminality and prostitution’, warmth and kindness greeted the Yugoslavs wherever they appeared.50 Chance encounters gave Bosˇkov a sense of Yugoslavia’s standing in the world. In Rangoon,

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players were served tea in the shack of an impoverished family. The Burmese hosts asked about Tito. At that moment, stronger than ever before, the extent of our President’s world fame became clear to me: not just because of the fact that he became a legend in the war, but rather – above all – because he is a symbol of a politics towards which not even a humble person from the streets of Rangoon can remain without a friendly smile. It was clear I owed the invitation to enter the house and drink from the best coffee cups to the international character of football, but far more to the fact that I am Yugoslav, and therefore a good person from Tito’s country.51 Whether or not such sentiments were widely held, the schedule of matches played before packed crowds undoubtedly heightened awareness of Yugoslavia and its alternative political path. The political elite of Burma, Indonesia and China hosted Tito’s footballers. Burmese head of state, U Nu, performed a ceremonial handshake prior to kick off, while Burmese president, Ba Ua, entertained the entire squad on the country’s independence day. In Indonesia, the Yugoslavs were invited to president Sukarno’s private residence and were flown to Bali in the presidential plane. Flying over magnificent volcanoes, Beara attempted to ‘recruit’ the affections of Sukarno’s young son with a Red Star badge.52 While in China, the squad posed for a photograph with Chairman Mao before discussing their tour with him over tea at his residence. Mao noted that Chinese footballers could learn much from their Yugoslav counterparts and promised to send a team to the Balkans.53 Football links with Indonesia were already developed by this time. Yugoslavia had played a full international in Djakarta before 70,000 spectators two years earlier, and Indonesian political delegates were entertained at Yugoslav league matches in 1952.54 The Croatian Toni Pogacˇnik, condemned as politically negative in 1950, coached the Indonesian national team. The relationship deepened after the successes narrated by Bosˇkov. When Sukarno travelled to Yugoslavia in 1956, an Indonesian representation played matches around the country.55 Three months later, Yugoslavia’s Olympic team visited their allies en route home from Melbourne.56 Far-flung matches against fraternal states were a regular part of touring schedules for clubs and the reprezentacija throughout the 1950s and beyond.

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For instance, during the 1970s, Velezˇ toured Central and South America, and hosted the Zambian Army and an Iranian club.57 Yugoslav footballers toured every continent; they were ‘inveterate travellers’ at the height of nonalignment.58 As Velezˇ’s hospitality suggests, football diplomacy was not limited to long visits to faraway places. The game provided an opportunity to introduce new allies to Yugoslavia’s citizens. Prior to hosting Bosˇkov and his teammates, Burma’s President U Nu visited Belgrade in 1955. He attended the Belgrade derby and presented the victorious Red Star with a specially commissioned trophy, posing for photographs with the team in a packed stadium. India’s Nehru graced the JNA Stadium in the same year.59 The extensive 1958 – 62 tour of Algeria’s famous National Liberation Front team, which, like Hajduk in the 1940s, aimed to raise awareness of the Algerian struggle, included five matches on Yugoslav soil.60 The provision of assistance to developing states was key to Yugoslavia’s non-aligned policy. This encompassed credit, food and weaponry, as well as the supply of experts from a range of fields. Although both Cold War blocs offered similar services to the developing world, Yugoslav experts were cheap and came with less political and colonial baggage. Yugoslav engineers built power stations, hospitals, factories and ports. Technical assistance enabled Yugoslavia to enhance its presence and establish a reputation in dozens of newly independent states. Itself a recipient of technical aid, the country established the Federal Institute for International Technical Cooperation in 1952 to enable it to extend assistance to the developing world. This government body endeavoured to meet diverse requests. It dispatched teachers, doctors, scientists and engineers, making a modest – though important – contribution to the development of post-colonial states. By 1967, 1,100 experts were working abroad, mainly in Africa.61 Those with sporting expertise were in high demand. During his 1979 visit to Belgrade, the President of the Republic of Mali, General Moussa Traore´, requested schooling for the country’s diplomats and stipends for students to study in Yugoslavia. He also asked for football and basketball coaches.62 Such requests were delegated to the Association of Football Coaches of Yugoslavia (Savez fudbalskih trenera Jugoslavije, SFTJ). The provision of coaches to the third world was a significant part of its activities. In 1969, 47 Yugoslav football coaches worked in 17 different states. While this figure encompassed those working in the west, it included national team coaches for Tunisia, Iran, Iraq, Libya and Kuwait.63 The successes of the reprezentacija fuelled demand. In 1970, the SFTJ received requests for English speaking coaches from Zambia and Kenya. Mindful

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that other states might usurp this opportunity, the overarching Technical Assistance Service pressed for candidates as quickly as possible.64 Such requests could not always be accommodated. Twenty-five applicants replied to an advert for eight coaching jobs in Sudan in 1968. The required Englishlanguage proficiency meant, however, that the SFTJ could only supply six candidates. These individuals were allocated specific jobs by the Yugoslav organisation, including coach of the Sudanese national team, coach for the provinces and first-class coach for club teams. Despite the difficulties, the SFTJ offered Sudan two additional coaches with knowledge of languages other than English.65 In states where football was more developed, the SFTJ encountered high expectations. When it attempted to dispatch coaches to Algeria, Kuwait and Iran in 1970, the candidates were rejected.66 Some coaches benefited from Yugoslavia’s football reputation and established non-aligned ties to make their own arrangements. What started as a government-level exercise became an organic mechanism pairing skilled individuals with aspirational clubs. As in other parts of the economy, these links offered Yugoslavs an opportunity to earn hard currency. One of many to make his own way was Tampere star Stjepan Bobek. He managed in Greece and non-aligned Tunisia.67 These patterns of labour migration were self-perpetuating: even in the 1980s, Kuwait’s football elite favoured Yugoslav coaches ‘because our experts were those who laid the foundations of Kuwaiti football’.68 Decades after Yugoslavia pioneered the use of sport to further non-aligned politics, technical cooperation in the sporting sphere and sport’s potential to nurture bilateral relations were listed among the Non-Aligned Movement’s objectives in the field of sport and physical education. Yugoslavia played a leading role in developing a coherent non-aligned sporting strategy.69 Other Eastern European states also played matches in, and dispatched coaches to, Africa and Asia during the Cold War, but the scale of the Yugoslav operation was formidable.70 Yugoslavia ‘was small enough and unconnected with uncomfortable memories of the colonial era, but still largely honest in its cooperation, that it was accepted benevolently, even when it was judged to be more powerful and richer than it actually was’.71 As football brought prestige to the Yugoslav revolution abroad, domestically, the post-Cominform period got off to an inauspicious start.

Hajduk, Torcida and the Party The pitch is still here, hemmed in on all sides by roads, a car park, apartment blocks and a market. Here and there fragments remain: rusted

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steel posts severed just above ground level line the dirt that slopes down from the pavement, and a rough block wall bears the scars of the structures that once clung to it. On the far touchline, the remnants of a large stand serve the needs of the small sports clubs still using the site. A colourful array of faded plastic seats are bolted to the exposed concrete terrace. The corrugated asbestos roof of the car mechanics’ workshop built into the back of the stand is fixed onto the frame of the old upper terrace, tracing its contours. But it is hard to imagine 20,000 spectators packed into the confined spaces framing the playing surface. Stari plac was always a makeshift ground, a hastily assembled amalgam of stands, terraces, paddocks and walls built through the voluntary actions of hundreds of citizens. As Split grew rapidly in the industrialisation of the early socialist years, Hajduk and its fan base outgrew the place. Still, the club made do until 1979, after which much of the ground was demolished.72 Today, children learn to play baseball on the lush green surface, as the city quietly goes about its business around them. In winter 1950, when the Yugoslav championship was decided here, the scene was very different. There was no grass: an unforgiving cinder pitch was the stage for an incident that reverberated throughout the country.

Figure 12 Remnants provide a sense of the intimacy of historic Stari plac, Split. Author, 2016.

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The game regularly provoked disorder. A pivotal First League match between hosts Hajduk and championship rivals Red Star in October 1950 was a tempestuous affair. What was a joyous occasion for Split, as Hajduk all but secured the league title for the first time, became shrouded in controversy in the days, weeks and months that followed. In a precursor to the explosive incidents of subsequent decades, supporters stole the limelight. As Hajduk’s title challenge reached its climax, an excited group of Zagrebbased students, many of whom originated from Dalmatia, established their own supporters’ group. Led by well-connected, active Party members and aspiring candidates, many of the educated youths joining the group belonged to the KPJ. Some had participated in the National Liberation Struggle. Consciously copying trends from the recent World Cup in Brazil, the group adopted the Portuguese name Torcida and brought an entirely new way of supporting to Yugoslavia. Organisers armed members with school bells, trumpets, rattles and whistles and put them on trains to Split. Senior Party officials and a Hajduk supporting agent of the State Security Administration (Uprava drzˇavne bezbednosti, UDBa) eased their passage. While the first group of around fifty supporters disturbed the peace as they travelled to the match, the second – one hundred strong – was far more disruptive, with boisterous behaviour on the train and at stations en route. Once in Split, Torcida indulged in loud chanting as they walked through the streets with banners. The second group arrived at 9am on the morning of the game and immediately went to the visiting team’s hotel. There, they treated the Red Star players to a rousing concert, using instruments to discordant effect and upsetting their opponents’ preparations.73 Boisterous behaviour continued as 20,000 spectators squeezed into creaking Stari plac while hundreds more took up vantage points on surrounding buildings. As Torcida attempted to enter, it looked as though their plans would be frustrated; suspicious of these heavily laden youths, the police confiscated instruments and supporting paraphernalia. The group’s leaders appealed directly to Hajduk’s president, senior Party official Ante Jurjevic´ – Baja, to intervene on their behalf. He persuaded the commanding officer to return their equipment, explaining that Yugoslavia was a ‘democratic country’. As a sign of gratitude, the raucous Torcida burst into chants of ‘Baja, Baja’, ‘Everyone to the polling station!’ and ‘all of Torcida will vote by 8 o’clock’.74 Party mouthpiece Borba described the atmosphere: it was like being in a cauldron. The battle on the pitch unfolded alongside the spectators’ frenetic supporting. Thousands of

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spectators, each in their own way, experienced every moment of play so vigorously that it looked as if everyone was playing; that everyone – both players on the pitch and spectators on the terraces – were struggling together.75 Aided by Torcida’s choreography, the crowd created a spectacular atmosphere. The group’s chants grew more boisterous in the second half as the game became rougher. At one point, Red Star’s Branko Stankovic´’s violent conduct exasperated Hajduk captain Frane Matosˇic´, who reacted by punching him in the face.76 When Hajduk scored the winning goal in the final minutes, supporters occupying the area inside the pitch’s perimeter fence burst onto the field. Play was suspended for several minutes to enable order to be restored, only for the final whistle to provoke another jubilant invasion.77 Hajduk only had to avoid defeat in the final match against relegated Buduc´nost to secure its first communist-era title. Torcida gathered in the city to celebrate and one of them scaled a balcony to read a mock obituary for the defeated Red Star. Returning to Zagreb that evening, Torcida boarded the train with the assistance of a local UDBa agent.78 Such conspicuous events did not go unnoticed, even by the highest echelons of the Party. Borba condemned the behaviour of ‘the exotic[ally] named’ organisation: Members of this group introduced into supporting so much riotousness that it at times transformed into uncultured and obscene incidents which could – if not thwarted immediately from the outset – stir up hatred between the clubs.79 Titled ‘This is no way to support’, the piece condemned the composers of the ‘hellish racket’ that the reporter – erroneously – claimed had awoken Red Star players at their hotel, as well as Torcida’s apparently successful attempts to intimidate the referee: ‘In this way they even had some influence on the development of the match itself’. The correspondent stressed that comradely, sporting relations prevailed between all clubs, and especially between Hajduk and Red Star: supporters should not be allowed to disrupt these relations, as happened in Split, because that would give inducement to supporters of other clubs to also demonstrate their sympathies towards them in such a manner. One should support one’s club, but in a way which will not damage it.80

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Ominously, Borba expressed surprise at the assistance offered by Hajduk’s administration to these supporters. Communist heavyweight Milovan Ðilas stood behind the Belgrade press’ reaction, subsequently summoning the Executive Committee of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Croatia (Komunisticˇka partija Hrvatske, KPH) to demand an investigation.81 Less than two months later, a commission delivered its report. Despite the involvement of ‘enemies’ of the state and ‘non-Party members’ (vanpartijci), what really set alarm bells ringing in the KPH was the fact that Torcida’s organisers – and 50 per cent of participants – were card-carrying communists. Moreover, the Hajduk administration included leading Party functionaries and partisans, while one of the players at the centre of the investigation, Frane Matosˇic´, was a KPJ member and veteran of the illustrious wartime tour; he personified the relationship between football and communism. The Party was concerned that Torcida was a threat to society. When the group returned to Zagreb they were greeted at the station by other Hajduk supporters, but also by fans of fellow Croatian club Dinamo, ‘among whom were down-and-outs and pro-Ustasˇa types’. Subsequently, on Zagreb’s central square, a portion of these young football fans chanted: ‘Hajduk – Dinamo’ and ‘Zagreb – Split’. These nationalist connotations were not lost on the commission, which highlighted a number of other alarming developments. The club received congratulatory letters and telegrams from across Yugoslavia. Many were harmless, but some were ‘chauvinist’ and ‘hostile’ to the state. They celebrated Hajduk’s feat not only as a victory for the club, but as a victory for Croatian football over its Serbian counterpart: ‘In general, all such letters are on the lines of “Croatia against Serbia in sport”’. Hajduk President Jurjevic´, who would be declared a National Hero three years later, defended these letters before the commission, stating that they were a response to the Belgrade press’ partisan match coverage.82 On this anti-Belgrade note, a key motivation behind Torcida’s founding had been to protest the failure of FSJ selectors to include sufficient numbers of Hajduk players in the national team.83 Torcida organisers were accused of chauvinist behaviour, not least because the symbols they wore contained the letters ‘h’ and ‘T’. While it was accepted that the ‘T’ stood for Torcida, law enforcers interpreted the ‘h’ as standing for Hrvatska (Croatia), rather than Hajduk. Whether such nationalist undertones were there or not – and founding members of Torcida insist they were not – the Party felt there was sufficient risk to necessitate the group’s abolition. Regardless of the intentions of these

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naı¨ve youths, the incident has been adorned with the trappings of Croatian nationalism in subsequent decades.84 In the days before this infamous match, a portion of the city’s footballing public had lobbied for the return of ex-player Branko Vidjak. Unhappy at his recent transfer to Borac Zagreb, Torcida members pressed for his reengagement. The commission castigated such ‘pro-Ustasˇa elements’ on the basis that Vidjak – dismissed as a ‘negative’ type – had been a member of the Ustasˇa, while his father had been executed as an enemy of the people. More worryingly for the Party, members of Hajduk’s administration had worked towards an unsporting breach of their agreement with Borac by engineering the player’s return. The organiser of a Hajduk supporters’ group, Zagreb-based UDBa agent Borka Vranican, facilitated this. Among other things, Vranican was subsequently castigated for his part in bringing Vidjak back to Split so that he could play in the pivotal Red Star match: He knew that he was an Ustasˇa element, on whose behalf a member of UDBa should not have intervened, or have demeaned himself to such an extent as to walk around Zagreb cafes after him and persuade him to return to Split.85 On the radar, Vidjak subsequently became a political e´migre´, living in Switzerland.86 The Vidjak saga, involving senior Party members, a state security agent and Yugoslav football champions Hajduk, was of deep concern to the commission. Yet he was not the only character with a questionable past. The leadership of Torcida’s Split-based affiliate included two individuals who had been part of the SS and Cˇetnik movements, respectively. Moreover, Hajduk secretary Ivica Grubisˇic´, a non-Party member, was deemed ‘politically dubious’ because of alleged contact with the prohibited Croatian Peasant Party (Hrvatska seljacˇka stranka, HSS), which was ‘working against our people’s government’.87 The KPH held a wide range of organisations responsible for these complex, interrelated events, including those of the Party, the leadership of Zagreb’s university faculties and Croatia’s sporting bodies and press. Punishments and severe reprimands were handed down. Hajduk’s administration was castigated for rampant klubasˇtvo and naivety in its dealings with Torcida. As senior Party functionaries, President Jurjevic´ and Jure Bilic´ – who was also secretary of the Split Party committee – were asked to sever ties with the club. In addition to direct intervention on behalf of Torcida, Jurjevic´ had given the group 12,000 dinars for food and drink, ‘and in this way, paid for its uncultured supporting’. Distracted by

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narrow club interests, these Party officials had participated in the creation of ‘unhealthy phenomena’, and they were reprimanded accordingly.88 Alongside these measures, Hajduk captain Frane Matosˇic´ was expelled from the KPJ on the grounds of persistent bickering and clashing with Stankovic´. Famous for his abrasive style, when Matosˇic´ stood before the commission he expressed regret that he had not struck his Red Star opponent harder. He also accused the Party investigation and Belgrade press coverage of being anti-Hajduk, stating that neither would have occurred in the event of a Red Star victory.89 Hajduk’s officials and players were regularly disciplined by the FSJ in subsequent years. Accusations of bias against Belgrade referees were common and relations with Red Star and Partizan were often poor.90 More immediately, the disgraceful public conduct of the Croat Matosˇic´ and Serb Stankovic´ detracted from the symbolic ‘brotherhood and unity’ of Yugoslavia’s Serbo –Croat strike partnership of Mitic´ and Bobek. Nevertheless, Matosˇic´ was reinstated on the personal intervention of Tito: a reprieve that in all likelihood resulted from the recalcitrant player’s partisan past.91 Other actors were also reprimanded, including UDBa agent Vranican. Nevertheless, the heaviest punishments were reserved for Torcida’s founders.

Figure 13 Modern Torcida is proud of its earlier incarnation. Osijek. Author, 2009.

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Velimir Ronkulin was stripped of his Party duties and severely reprimanded, while the commission recommended that Zˇarko Sˇtiglic´ – the medical student behind the ‘chauvinist’ and ‘offensive’ Red Star obituary – be referred to the Public Prosecutor for criminal proceedings. Sˇtiglic´ was spared, as KPH Secretary Vlado Bakaric´ deemed the punishment too severe. Shipping student Vjenceslav Zˇuvela was not so fortunate. He was denied the chance to join the KPJ and sentenced to three years in prison. This sentence was subsequently reduced to three months.92 Disgraced, the Torcida name disappeared, while the group’s methods lay dormant for decades. Both would be revived in very different political circumstances, when authorities would struggle to contain them using the same repressive tactics. In the meantime, the KPJ remained vigilant at the game’s potential to be exploited in ways detrimental to both the Party and a state perpetuated upon the ideology of brotherhood and unity.

The People’s Game, Yugoslav Style Asim Ferhatovic´ ‘Hase’, an FK Sarajevo legend who also made a solitary appearance for the reprezentacija, could regularly be seen in the narrow streets of Sarajevo’s historic Basˇcˇarsˇija. Alongside his football career, he ran a c´evabdzˇinica, peddling grilled sausages.93 One of these eateries still carries Ferhatovic´’s name. Famous throughout the country, Hase never forgot his humble roots. Senad Dizdarevic´, a shopkeeper who has sold football paraphernalia in the market for over twenty years, has been an avid Sarajevo supporter since his first match in 1957. He remembers the prolific striker as a benevolent individual who assisted the city’s poor by dishing out free sausages and donating money to worthy causes.94 To an extent, Ferhatovic´ was characteristic of the stars of his era. As the domestic game thrived, he experienced fame and relative fortune. During the 1950s, the Party worked tirelessly to present leading players as frugal role models, ‘heroes of socialism’ to be emulated by fellow citizens. In the process, they exerted pressure on the media to downplay unsavoury excesses.95 The faces of First League stars were known across the country, reproduced on stickers inside chocolate bars and elsewhere. A memorable scene in Emir Kusturica’s depiction of life in 1950s Sarajevo, When father was away on business (1985), shows young boys playing games with prized football cards.96 The evolution of Yugoslavia’s economy into a Cold War hybrid in the decades after its expulsion from the Cominform, however, would alter the game irrevocably. The Party presented the split in ideological terms. From this perspective, while Yugoslav communists remained loyal to the teachings of Marxism –

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Leninism, Stalin had deviated from them. This forced Yugoslavia to develop its own path to communism in the 1950s. Party ideologue Edvard Kardelj outlined a system that would ensure ‘direct worker participation in the management of [state] . . . enterprises’. This innovation set the country on ‘a protracted, fitful process of decentralizing Yugoslav administration and economic management’.97 The resultant, complicated system of workers’ self-management evolved throughout the communist years. What began as limited factory reforms gained momentum throughout the decade and led to considerable economic decentralisation. Yugoslav industrial output outstripped every other country in the world. Though this was admittedly from a very low base, per capita GDP increased by 54 per cent in the 1950s. Increasingly prevalent advertising hoardings at football grounds, which appeared alongside revolutionary slogans, were a visible manifestation of this new path.98 As the economy stalled at the beginning of the 1960s, Party reformers took even more radical steps. Though they never embraced a market economy in the capitalist sense, what became ‘market socialism’ opened Yugoslavia to the West and enabled firms to pursue the rewards of the market, albeit within tight constraints. The resultant economy differed greatly from those of the Eastern bloc. While real personal incomes rose modestly during the 1950s, between 1960 and 1965 they underwent an annual growth of 9 per cent. By the mid-1960s, workers’ self-management, combined with limited decentralisation, liberalisation and experimentation with market mechanisms, contributed to a rise in living standards and a booming consumer culture, heavily influenced by western trends.99 In 1971, even communist stalwarts Radnicˇki Kragujevac sported the logo of car manufacturer and club sponsor Zastava on their red shirts.100 At the same time, Yugoslavs enjoyed freedom of movement and access to western culture, media and ideas. However, a growing balance of trade deficit was financed by foreign loans, storing up trouble for the future.101 The new environment transformed talented footballers into celebrities. Liberalisation facilitated the evolution of sports newspapers that would not have been out of place in Western Europe. They revolutionised coverage of football and its stars. This process accelerated thanks to the gradual uptake of radio and, later, television. By 1968, 68.5 per cent of households owned a radio, while 28.2 percent had televisions.102 Yugoslavia’s most talented players therefore became icons in an increasingly consumerist society. As in the interwar period, footballers were officially amateurs throughout the 1950s and much of the 1960s, but professionalism was an open secret, ‘obvious yet denied’.103 Fierce debates raged in the FSJ over whether to

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embrace professionalism in these new circumstances. Argued over in the public sphere, an initiative to introduce professionalism in the mid-1950s failed to gain sufficient support.104 Market forces flourished regardless, and by the end of the 1960s, the First League would be fully professional. Even before this transformation, the best footballers achieved celebrity status beyond the confines of the game. In the year of the Olympic triumph over the Soviet Union, Rajko Mitic´ and teammate Srd¯an Mrkusˇic´ made a cameo appearance in Avala Studio’s musical comedy Svi na more (Let’s all go to the Sea! 1952). The two players, instantly recognisable to the country’s readers, cut rather awkward figures in picturesque Dubrovnik.105 Ten years later, when footballers had been thrust into the limelight of popular culture, a player took up a leading role. Following Yugoslavia’s strong performance at the 1962 World Cup, Dragoslav Sˇekularac ‘Sˇeki’ starred in the feature film Sˇeki snima, pazi se (Sˇeki is Filming, Beware! 1962). The climax features a popular band singing an ode to the star: the ‘Sˇeki twist’. Sˇekularac was the Yugoslav game’s first ‘pop icon’. A Red Star favourite for over a decade, his exhilarating play and excesses on and off the pitch were amplified by the media and consumed by avid readers.106 Others followed in his footsteps by frequenting recording studios. Partizan striker Mustafa Hasanagic´, who was a regular during the 1960s, when his team reached the European Cup Final, released a record on the prestigious Jugoton label in 1967. Not to be outdone, his opposite number at Red Star, Dragan Dzˇajic´, also dabbled in music.107 What the public really wanted from these players, though, was football. On match day thousands of workers spilled out of Rijeka shipyards, the car plant in Kragujevac and the Zenica foundry to fill the stadiums of Kvarner, Radnicˇki and Cˇelik. This pilgrimage was replicated in towns and cities across Yugoslavia. A combined total of 1.26 million spectators watched the 1950 championship, but by the 1963–4 season, this figure had doubled.108 When the tens of thousands who gathered for lower league matches and those who tuned in on radios are taken into account, it becomes clear the game was a favoured pastime for a large portion of the population. Clubs worked tirelessly to expand ground capacities. Keenly aware of the game’s popularity, Tito took steps to avoid association with any particular club. Vladimir Dedijer recalls the Marshal’s relationship with football in the postwar years: A few years ago, Tito used to go after lunch to watch games of soccer, which is the most popular sport in Yugoslavia. When big matches are played, there are as many as sixty thousand people watching the matches, out of Belgrade’s four hundred thousand inhabitants.

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But Tito has stopped going to matches lately, although he goes on following the results in the newspapers. I teased him by suggesting that one of the reasons for this might be that Tito’s favourite team, ‘Partisan’, was in rather bad shape. Tito, however, does not want to appear a fan of this team, because supporting various teams is the great passion of all Yugoslavs, and Tito would not like to hurt the feelings of the fans of other teams.109 While Tito tried his best to remain aloof, other leading communists ensconced themselves on club boards. Some, like Dedijer, undoubtedly loved the game, but others associated with football in order to reap the political rewards that came with patronising popular institutions.110 The esteem of leading teams fuelled power struggles within them. Since its inception, Partizan was inseparably tied to the Yugoslav military. A string of renowned generals served as president of this multi-sport society, while its administration was packed with officers and intelligence officials. By the 1950s, the organisation – and its flagship football team in particular – was riven by factionalism. Members of Yugoslavia’s military and civil security apparatus, from KOS (Kontraobavesˇtajna sluzˇba, Counterintelligence Service) and UDBa respectively, vied for control. In addition to the prestige that surrounded Partizan and other leading clubs, there were other motivations for infiltration by agents: in the turbulent post1948 years, the state monitored the political conduct of players during trips abroad. Jefto Sˇasˇic´, head of KOS, was a vice-president at Partizan. The fierce internal rivalry between KOS and local UDBa agents adversely impacted upon Partizan’s footballers, many of whom were drawn to one faction or the other. The matter reached its nadir in 1958, when a young Croatian colonel called Franjo Tud¯man was elected president of the society. This authoritarian figure was tasked with resolving the longrunning internal feud. During his three-year presidency, Tud¯man purged Partizan of tainted officials and players, and led a campaign against ‘antisocialist tendencies’, especially surrounding the football team. With the backing of Sˇasˇic´ and other senior military figures he restored a degree of order and laid the foundations for the most successful period in the team’s history.111 Publicly, the game’s relationship with the regime was impossible to ignore. Senior JNA generals and Party members presented the Marshal Tito Cup. Rajko Mitic´, captain of the victorious Red Star side of 1958, received the trophy from General and People’s Hero (Narodni heroj) Milosˇ Zekic´.112 Football also served to reinforce the popularity of the state and its

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institutions at a local level. Lower league clubs and factory teams played friendly matches in celebration of the Day of the Army, and also in honour of elections. Even referees joined physical culture parades held in the run-up to polling.113 Beyond this relationship with high politics, success – or failure – in domestic competitions reflected upon the major urban centres. The postwar concentration of the best football talent, above all in Belgrade, and to a lesser extent in Zagreb and Split, meant these three cities dominated the domestic game. Until FK Vojvodina and FK Sarajevo finally broke the grip of the ‘Big Four’ by winning the First League in 1966 and 1967 respectively, every championship was won by one of Yugoslav football’s giants. Even within this elite group, the Belgrade clubs – strengthened by the best talent from around the country – stand out. Partizan and Red Star amassed thirteen championships by the mid-1960s, with Dinamo and Hajduk sharing the other six. It was a similar story in the Marshal Tito Cup. The only club outside of Belgrade, Zagreb and Split to lift the trophy before the late 1970s was Vardar Skopje. The Macedonians proudly carried the cup back to their republic in 1961, but the geographical concentration of success is nonetheless striking. Favoured by the authorities and the media, the ‘Big Four’ were the bestsupported teams by a considerable distance. They attracted followers throughout Yugoslavia. Sarajevo writer Dzˇevad Kajan remembers that the vast majority of children in his neighbourhood declared allegiance to Partizan when the team secured three titles in a row in the early 1960s. This was a result of extensive media coverage and the fact that the team contained many reprezentacija members.114 Another factor was that the players were drawn from far and wide. Partizan’s famous European side of 1966 contained footballers from five of Yugoslavia’s eight federal units, while the coach was an ethnic Muslim from southern Serbia. European competitions were the highest stage. When newly crowned champions FK Sarajevo were drawn against Manchester United in the European Cup in the winter of 1967, the Bosnian capital could barely contain its excitement. George Best and Bobby Charlton’s visit left a lasting impression on the teenage Senad. Knowing that the Kosˇevo Stadium could not accommodate everyone who wanted to watch, Senad and his friends packed some food and made their way to the ground the day before kick-off. Having bribed a security guard, they slept on the unforgiving terraces beneath a cold November sky to secure their view. The following day nearly 40,000 watched the hosts hold United to a 0– 0 draw.115 Sarajevo lost the away leg, but the tie put the city on the European football map. Ten years

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earlier Manchester United’s ill-fated Busby Babes had been returning from a game against Red Star when disaster struck on the runway in Munich.116 By the 1960s, the country’s clubs constituted stiff opposition. Partizan succumbed to Real Madrid in the 1966 European Cup Final. Not to be outdone, in the following season Dinamo lifted the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup. Camera crews and thousands of jubilant supporters besieged the Caravelle airliner that brought the team back to Zagreb.117 Such continental exposure hastened the outflow of talent to Western European leagues. Ten of the eleven 1966 Partizan team were playing abroad just three years later.118 They joined a wave of temporary economic migrants from Yugoslavia. By the end of the 1960s, hundreds of thousands were working as gastarbeiters in the west, partly because reforms enabled them to do so and partly because market mechanisms fuelled unemployment at home.119 Silverware was not the only means of securing prestige. When the burgeoning industrial port of Rijeka returned to First League football in 1958, its team received thousands of telegrams, among them congratulatory messages from sailors dispersed across the world. The colossal 3 May shipyard and the Boris Kidric´ refinery were among the enterprises that revelled in the achievement.120 A solidly socialist city evidently deserved top-flight football: The entry of Rijeka’s footballers into the First Federal League is a momentous occasion in the sporting life of a city that is a strong industrial centre and our biggest port. It was high time that a city with nearly 100,000 inhabitants got its own First Federal League representative. The working people of Rijeka and that whole area deserve to watch the best Yugoslav football teams121 On one occasion, the country’s leading clubs rallied to ensure that deserving spectators were not denied these joys in their hour of need. In the summer of 1963, a devastating earthquake left the Macedonian capital in ruins. Skopje’s flagship club, Vardar, had finished bottom of the First League, but were spared relegation in a magnanimous gesture that saw them compete as a fifteenth team in the 1963 –4 season.122 Yet, football’s popularity and its exposure to the wider reform process made it difficult to control.

Self-(Mis)mangement Niko Franusˇic´ is one of Dinara Knin’s oldest surviving players. Born on the Dalmatian coast in 1927, he was drafted into the partisans as a teenager.

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He remained in the JNA after the war and was posted to the Croatian garrison town of Knin. Franusˇic´ initially played football for the garrison, but soon passed over to the town’s lower league civilian club, Dinara. He once had the task of marking Bernard Vukas, a member of the legendary Tampere team, who completed his military service in Knin. When Dinara won their local league in 1949, their modest reward was dinner at a local hotel.123 Higher up the football pyramid, however, players reaped far greater economic benefits from an ‘amateur’ game buffeted by Yugoslavia’s fitful reforms. Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, fierce debates raged in the Party over the ideological rebalances in the economy and wider society. The key bone of contention concerned the distribution of power between the federal centre and the republics. Though the debates were complex, the Party essentially divided into two camps: on one side were those favouring further decentralisation and liberalisation in both economics and politics, while on the other were those who preferred a strong centralised state and felt the pace of reform was too rapid. To some extent this was a generational divide, but it also had an important national dimension. Vice-president Aleksandar Rankovic´ was the most prominent figure of the conservative old guard. His centralist politics were interpreted by many as thinly veiled Serbian nationalism. As in the interwar years, advocates of a centralised Yugoslavia were open to accusations of Serbian hegemony. In contrast, the rising Croat communist Miko Tripalo, President of the People’s Youth and federal sports bodies for much of the period, stood firmly on the side of the liberal reformers. He was also associated with Croatian nationalism.124 These contrasting visions for Yugoslavia’s future were perpetually at loggerheads, but the liberal wing of the Party gradually prevailed. This debate reverberated through football: it entered a fragile environment marred by violence and nationalist outbursts. Football grounds could be dangerous places. Physical confrontations, like that involving Hajduk’s Matosˇic´ and Red Star’s Stankovic´, were common. Referees also suffered at the hands of frustrated footballers. One of the most prominent attacks occurred in 1962, when celebrity Red Star midfielder Sˇekularac struck a referee during a match in Nisˇ.125 In the lower leagues, where players like Niko Franusˇic´ competed, violence and intimidation of referees were so common during the post-1948 era that rare incident-free weekends were deemed newsworthy.126 After a fractious match in Trogir, Franusˇic´ and his teammates were attacked by their hosts and needed a police escort out of town to avoid further trouble. Another example from the middle of the decade is by no means atypical. When Vardar Skopje visited Montenegro’s Lovcˇen Cetinje to determine

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which club would qualify for the First Federal League, the Croatian match officials endured a terrifying experience. The award of a penalty to Vardar provoked the home crowd, who threw stones at the officials at half time, prompting police intervention. Having reached the safety of the dressing room, the referee was intimidated by Lovcˇen functionaries. Stones rained down again at full time, despite a heavy police presence, but the real danger followed later that evening: When we finished the report, we got into the taxi . . . and went to the Hotel Grand. Comrade Niko Kadija, the Borba correspondent from Split, was with us in the car. We wanted to pick up his son from the Grand, who had also travelled with us. While comrade Kadija went into the hotel room a crowd recognised us, surrounded the car and threatened us with all manner of words. They spat at us and some of them wanted to physically assault us. We were empty handed in a hopeless situation, surrounded by a crowd who even called for our heads. In such a situation, we had no other choice but to flee Cetinje without waiting for comrade Kadija to return from the hotel. At that moment, while the car was readied for departure, someone from the crowd punched me in the back of the head and a stone also hit me in the head. A stone struck Petrosˇic´ in the back and another Gazzario’s back. The car itself was riddled with stones which we still have today. Nevertheless, we managed to leave Cetinje without more serious consequences, for which we must thank our driver’s ingenuity.127 All of this had a national dimension. The insults levelled against the officials included chants of ‘Ustasˇa’, while the volatile crowd accused them of being in the pay of Lovcˇen’s promotion-chasing rivals, the Croatian club Lokomotiva Zagreb. The Cetinje incident had chauvinist undertones, but other outbursts directly challenged the inviolable principle of brotherhood and unity. When, in 1952, NK Zagreb player Jurisˇic´ indulged in violent and provocative behaviour during an away match against Kvarner Rijeka, he was publically condemned. The player’s verbal outbursts caused most concern in a city only recently incorporated into the state, which retained a sizeable Italian minority: Yesterday, for him, Osojnak, Legan and the young Butkovic´ were fascists, even though Osojnak spent the fascist occupation in

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German camps – among others the infamous Dachau – and Legan as a National Liberation Struggle fighter. In this match Jurisˇic´ also insulted our realities, the most valued achievement of the National Liberation Struggle: brotherhood and unity. He cursed the Italian mothers of individual players of Italian nationality (Legan), and as the fouled Lokosˇek lay on the pitch, he yelled: ‘Kill him, damn it, he sold out to the Italians’. Does this require further comment?128 Clubs from other towns that had belonged to interwar Italy faced similar abuse, especially amid strained Italo – Yugoslav relations over the future of Trieste.129 As ever-increasing amounts of power were devolved to the republics at the expense of the centre, the role of the Yugoslav state and the nature of any overarching ‘Yugoslav’ identity were gradually called into question. Party ideologue Edvard Kardelj, a leading voice among the liberal reformers, openly rejected the idea that a single Yugoslav nation was emerging. While he favoured the Yugoslav state, it was only necessary as long as it suited the interests of its constituent nations. This understanding evolved into Yugoslav Socialist Patriotism: an identity inseparably linked with political ideology, which abandoned any sense of an ethnically rooted Yugoslav identity and enabled those of the republics to thrive.130 In this fluid environment, the outward presentation of leading football clubs became a sensitive matter. By 1960, the Party had adopted the position that all cultural and sports societies were to be administered by, and to be representative of, their locality. This had wide-reaching consequences, especially for Partizan: as representative of the JNA, it embodied a broader Yugoslav identity. In an effort to prevent the organisation becoming a symbol of a narrow Serbian identity in the new circumstances, Partizan’s President Tud¯man pressed for the prefix ‘Yugoslav’ to be added to its name: Bearing in mind the quarrel that flared up in Serbia at that time, between the Belgrade, or Serbian, UDBa and the JNA’s Counterintelligence Service, there was a great danger that Partizan would lose its all-Yugoslav characteristics – including its Croatian ones – and be abandoned to Greater Serbian oriented forces in the republic and local organs of the Serbian security forces. That needed to be prevented at any cost. Accordingly, so that Partizan would not . . . develop into an instrument of the Serbian (or Belgrade)

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UDBa, I made an effort to secure the conditions for its continued operation within a Yugoslav framework.131 Decades later, Tud¯man recalled his fear that Partizan would go the same way as the neighbouring Red Star, serving as a gathering point for ‘Greater Serbian and Cˇetnik politics’. Given Tud¯man’s warm embrace of Croatian nationalism in the intervening years, his interpretation of events must be treated cautiously, but others feared that his actions would fuel the explicit ethnification of football. Partizan functionary Artur Takacˇ thought the adoption of the ‘Yugoslav’ prefix would impel Dinamo Zagreb to add ‘Croatian’ to their name, and Red Star to formally identify as a Serb club.132 Nevertheless, Tud¯man attempted to persuade Miko Tripalo of the need to associate Partizan with a Yugoslav identity, but the reform oriented Croatian disagreed with his proposal. Regardless, Tud¯man’s initiative was carried at Partizan’s 1960 conference.133 At a time of accelerating decentralisation, the organisation thus bucked the trend and became the Yugoslav Sports Society Partizan. As republic interests were thrust to the fore, differences of opinion at the federal level tended to be expressed through economic issues. Particularly in the 1960s, the authorities of the constituent republics argued over the allocation of resources. Croatia and Slovenia felt that their disproportionate contributions to the federal budget were squandered by the poorer southern regions. The Party countered such economic discontent by devolving yet more power. In football, too, money was the root of most scandals and disagreements. Despite the split with Cominform, the same issues that faced all communist states attempting to preserve the lie of amateurism plagued the domestic game.134 Throughout socialist Yugoslavia’s early decades, football was a corrupt law unto itself. The period was marked by both sanctioned and covert experimentation with the market in the form of lucrative foreign tours, politically tainted transfer sagas, contentious financial incentives for the game’s best players and match fixing. These phenomena exacerbated fragile relations between republics, but also with the federal centre. While the Yugoslav economy dabbled with market mechanisms, ‘black reserves’ (crni fondovi) became an indispensable part of football. Clubs used these secretive funds, commonly accumulated via foreign tours and dishonest accounting practices, for clandestine trading and paying of footballers.135 As teams strove to overcome the limitations of ‘amateurism’, they rewarded players with apartments, cars and money. Just two years after the KPH attempted to rein in the excesses surrounding Torcida, the KPJ’s highest echelons turned their attention to

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football. In February 1952, newspapers published a lengthy letter from the Central Committee, purportedly addressing the status of physical culture in general. The vast majority of its scolding analysis, however, concerned football alone. It declared war against negative phenomena and condemned the presence of ‘enemy elements’ within sporting organisations and the press. Club finances came under careful scrutiny, not least because the Party found that government departments, companies and trade unions funded clubs and ‘sports stars’ with public money earmarked for mass physical culture. Party organisations were tangled up in individual football clubs. The Party was failing to use physical culture for its own ends: to improve the health of workers, to strengthen the socialist homeland and to fortify its defensive capabilities. Contrary to existing rules, clubs were run in a clandestine fashion, harnessing black reserves, while communists – weakened by a win-at-all-costs attitude – failed to resist such practices: distinguished Party, state and military functionaries sit at the head of many of our clubs. This is the case in both the largest and smallest clubs and societies. It occurred as a consequence of . . . some kind of miscomprehension that every club should have someone who will ‘protect’ it, ‘help’ it, and other such things.136 The Central Committee called for the elimination of these problematic relationships, stating that only communists with a genuine interest in sport should participate, not ‘functionaries who play the role of patrons and cover up all manner of irregularities with their authority’. The Party was alarmed about the drift towards professionalism: ‘all of our sportsmen, without exception, should either work or study, and nobody can be paid for practicing sport’. The abandonment of amateur principles threatened the foundations of the socialist project as it encouraged hundreds of youths to live corrupting and carefree lifestyles.137 In reaction to this public rebuke, the FSJ established Courts for the Protection of Amateurism, with life bans for those who broke the rules. A farcical situation ensued. Club officials invented ‘employment’ in fictitious jobs that players never attended.138 Again, Partizan’s players were in a particularly fortuitous position, as they automatically became army personnel, ‘received salaries and did not do the work they were supposed to do’. Goalkeeper Sˇosˇtaric´’s only duty was to wind the clocks in the Central Army Club.139 With influential patrons, the ‘Big Four’ were rarely punished despite being the main offenders. The courts focused upon the misdemeanours of smaller clubs and their players. Lesser-known footballers received lengthy playing

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bans, but even they avoided the lifelong exclusion the FSJ threatened.140 Central Committee intervention had little effect at the elite level and by the middle of the 1950s, the game’s statutes included clauses about rewarding players. The malleable term ‘non-amateur’ passed into frequent use.141 A decade later, the First League openly embraced professionalism. A closely connected matter, often involving illegal financial transactions, was the transfer of players between clubs. The ill-tempered switch of Yugoslav international goalkeeper Vladimir Beara from Hajduk to Red Star in 1955 was infamous. Hajduk officials complained they had never been able to satisfy Beara’s financial demands, and that ‘serious and credible evidence’ showed that money motivated his move to Belgrade. The underhand nature of the transfer prompted the Split club to sever all ties with their Belgrade rivals.142 Four years earlier, the Croatian Football Association (Hrvatski nogometni savez, HNS) had similar grievances, only with Partizan and the FSJ. When Borac Zagreb’s Branko Zebec transferred to Partizan amid rumours that he had been lured with promises of cash and a fully furnished apartment, the Croatian press examined the case in microscopic detail. Despite mounting proof that Partizan used forbidden tactics to secure Zebec’s signature, the FSJ sanctioned the move. In response, the Croatian authorities asserted their right to pass judgement on the matter and sent an official objection to Belgrade. The NSH’s secretary referred directly to rules regulating player transfers, noting that it was the republican associations’ responsibility to investigate any impediments. Zagreb stressed its jurisdiction to look into Borac’s refusal to issue Zebec with a certificate of withdrawal on the basis of Partizan’s aggressive recruitment style.143 This was all to no avail. Borac, the HNS and the Croatian press were left with a bitter taste in their mouths: Zebec made over 130 appearances for Partizan. This and other transfer scandals tested the relationship between republic and provincial associations and an overarching FSJ with centralising tendencies. The Vojvodina Football Committee accused the FSJ of practicing ‘pseudo-decentralisation [that] highlights the bureaucratic tendencies of the centre, which deprive regional organisations of their democratic rights’.144 Clearly, such behaviour had the potential to damage perceptions of the state as a whole. The Second Federal League also served as a political football. The popularity of First League clubs ensured they usually emerged unscathed from attempts to reform the game, but the second tier was manipulated at will. When the Central Committee condemned ‘excessively unwieldy and expensive’ federal and republic level competitions, its stated intention was to reduce the number of working days lost by those who played in them.

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Substantial distances meant that ‘amateurs’ were losing an average of 70 –80 working days a season, while the associated costs brought financial difficulties to almost all clubs.145 In response, the FSJ announced the immediate abolition of the Second League, despite the fact that the Central Committee deemed the highest level to be the main offender.146 This kneejerk reaction destabilised the game. In Croatia, teams of varying ability were suddenly thrown together in four decentralised competitions arranged around Zargeb, Osijek, Rijeka and Split. Widely unpopular, this restructuring had a particularly negative impact upon big city clubs on the fringes of the elite. Kvarner’s administration refused to accept that the measures would address the game’s excesses. The reform left the main bearers of professionalism and aggressive recruiting untouched. Moreover, hastily conceived and uncompetitive replacements to the Second League failed almost immediately.147 Over subsequent years, the game’s governing bodies experimented with a variety of formats. Perennial negotiations over the system of competition encouraged republic-level associations to lobby for solutions that suited their own clubs, mirroring the political situation. A Croat – Slovene league, echoing that of the interwar years, re-emerged in 1952, which in turn laid the foundation for a zonal system at the lower levels of the game. This divided Yugoslavia into territories that only partially corresponded to republic borders.148 Instability endured as a defining feature at this level as the complex federal structure of the state and the game made it difficult to achieve a workable compromise. Faced with political prevarication between centralising tendencies and decentralisation, the Second League became an unending experiment.149 Kvarner also castigated the FSJ’s failure to address the leading clubs’ addiction to foreign tours, which alone resulted in as many lost working days as the entire Second League season.150 Highly lucrative tours, particularly those to western European destinations, were susceptible to abuse, and extensive touring schedules were the principal source of black reserves that lubricated the darker side of the game. The FSJ’s strict financial regulations for international matches were rarely adhered to.151 For instance, a week before the Central Committee’s letter was published, but almost certainly pre-empting its harsh judgement, the HNS announced Hajduk’s immediate suspension. The club had broken rules during a tour of the Federal Republic of Germany. When Hajduk’s Jozo Matosˇic´ – brother of truculent Frane – distributed more foreign currency to his players than was permitted, it unsettled another Yugoslav club touring Germany at the same time. FK Sarajevo’s administration complained that Matosˇic´’s

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frivolous distribution of 400 Marks had created an uncomfortable situation between the Bosnian club’s players and its leadership. The football authorities denied Matosˇic´’s claim that he had been given permission in advance.152 Again, little came of this suspension: by the end of the year Hajduk was champion of Yugoslavia. Foreign tours also exposed players and officials to undesirable political influences. In 1954, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs informed football’s governing bodies of the need to be vigilant when arranging trips abroad, motivated by the discovery that Strahinja Pavicˇevic´, a German-based political e´migre´ on the authorities’ radar, had organised tours for Yugoslav clubs, including Vojvodina, Vardar and Hajduk. In response, the FSJ banned any future business with Pavicˇevic´ and threatened clubs with bans and heavy fines for falling to adhere to this ruling.153 Domestically, match fixing was the most damaging blight, fuelled by the local, national and political prestige tied to football. The first suspicious results arose as early as the 1947–8 season, but by the 1950s, scandals were regularly aired in the public domain. Criminal proceedings relating to the misappropriation of public funds were launched against relegated Proleter Osijek in 1956. The ‘Osijek Affair’ exposed commonplace practices like bribing referees and other clubs using black reserves. Although Proleter coach Bernard Hu¨gl – already on the radar as a ‘politically negative’ individual – was given a lifetime ban for his part in the club’s illegal activities, most avoided severe punishments. Hu¨gl’s honest assessment in court spoke volumes: ‘I accepted the reality that we must bribe referees if we want to remain in the league. We were condemned to relegation in advance’.154 Again, smaller clubs and lesser players usually bore the brunt of these punishments. However, a major scandal rocked the First League in 1965. Zˇeljeznicˇar Sarajevo’s out-of-favour goalkeeper, Ranko Planinic´, announced publically that the 1963– 4 season had been irregular. His club had sold matches against crisis-hit Hajduk and Tresˇnjevka Zagreb, enabling both to avoid relegation. While the Disciplinary Court of the League Committee investigated the claims, the District Public Prosecutor in Sarajevo arrested several members of Zˇeljeznicˇar’s administration, including its president. Faced with overwhelming evidence that large sums of money had changed hands, in August 1965, the Disciplinary Court announced that Zˇeljeznicˇar, Hajduk and Tresˇnjevka would be demoted to the Second League. The presidents of Zˇeljeznicˇar and Hajduk – as well as several members of the clubs’ administrations, both first team coaches and Dinamo Zagreb’s general secretary, who played a part in negotiations – received life bans. Zˇeljeznicˇar’s star players, Ivica Osim and Misˇo Smajlovic´, were also given

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bans.155 Osim, who went on to manage the reprezentacija, later recalled that ‘there was terrible pressure on us. Not from us, but from Hajduk, from the city of Split, from politicians, that Hajduk must win’.156 The Sarajevo club at the heart of the affair was unwilling to let the matter rest. At a press conference, Zˇeljeznicˇar argued that while it supported drastic sanctions, other teams also deserved to be punished. The club offered to provide additional evidence: ‘if everyone was punished for such things . . . there would be no one left to play in the First League. Match fixing is nothing new; matches have been fixed in Yugoslav football for a long time and all are involved!’157 With football at a dangerous impasse, thirteen days after the initial ruling, the Appeals Commission annulled the draconian punishments. Instead of relegation, the three clubs received point deductions, and the illustrious Hajduk retained its First League status. Many of the banned individuals successfully returned to football. Among them were the talented Smajlovic´ and Osim, both of whom had long and successful careers, including national team appearances.158 Nevertheless, like the other ailments that football suffered from in the decades after the Tito– Stalin Split, chronic match fixing continued to blight the game throughout Yugoslavia’s existence. *** During the 1950s and 1960s, football thrived domestically and internationally. Successes on the pitch, as well as pioneering exploits in the third world, made a positive contribution to Yugoslavia’s reputation, while casting the communist authorities in a benevolent light. In 1966, Aleksandar Rankovic´ was expelled from the Party in disgrace, a development that underlined the triumph of liberal reformers, at least in the short term. At the same time, sweeping economic reforms, decentralisation and liberalisation – and the quarrels that accompanied them – impacted directly upon the domestic game. Throughout this ideological struggle, the authorities were constantly reminded of football’s potential to upset the societal equilibrium and damage the revolution’s key tenets. Attempts to intervene in a game plagued by irregularities and scandals were highly ineffectual: here too, the market and narrow national interests triumphed, albeit against the Party’s wishes. Faced with such negative publicity, by the end of the 1960s, Yugoslav football needed to reassert its revolutionary credentials. The fiftieth anniversary of the FSJ’s founding would be the perfect opportunity.

CHAPTER 5 KEEPING THE REVOLUTION ALIVE: THE LONG 1970 S

Among the items preserved at the Archive of Yugoslavia is a tired green photo album, entitled: ‘Celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of the Football Association of Yugoslavia, 1919– 1969’.1 It is surprising to learn that the governing body of communist era football traces its roots back to the interwar years, especially given that the revolution swept aside so many ‘bourgeois’ organisations. Through the establishment of new institutions, the KPJ worked tirelessly to distance its project from the Kingdom’s failures and football was no exception. But, as Benedict Anderson notes, ‘even the most determinedly radical revolutionaries always, to some degree, inherit the state from the fallen regime’.2 It was not possible, or even desirable, for the communist custodians of the game to sever all ties with the past, not least because it was also their past. There was much for communists to be proud of from this earlier period, particularly the political struggles of workers’ clubs. One survivor, FK Graficˇar (Print Worker) Belgrade, now compete on a pitch directly below the archive’s windows. The problematic interwar period and its protagonists could not be ignored in the 1969 celebrations, but revolutionary symbolism dominated. The events were an opportunity to repair the game’s tainted image as it entered a new decade. As Yugoslavia continued down its distinct political and economic path, the Party, and numerous organisations expressing loyalty to it, doubled their efforts to reiterate the sacrifices and achievements of the 1940s. At the same time, decentralisation and liberalisation processes continued, as did the evolution of self-management socialism. None of them were easy to control and, both in politics and football, the authorities had to intervene on

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Figure 14 FK Graficˇar’s ground, overlooked by the Archive of Yugoslavia, Belgrade. Author, 2014. several occasions. As long as the aging Tito remained at the helm, Yugoslavia’s revolution – for all of its flaws – strove for a better future, albeit with regular and reassuring glances to the past.

Reinvigorating the Revolution The first ceremonial gathering of the anniversary was held in Zagreb’s City Hall. Behind the grand auditorium’s lectern and top table, the Yugoslav tricolour’s red five-pointed star took centre stage between the banners of FIFA, UEFA, the FSJ and the city of Zagreb. Tito’s bronze bust watched authoritatively over the proceedings. The First League trophy and Marshal Tito Cup were also afforded elevated status. Stars of the Yugoslav game, past and present, filled the hall. The elite of world football joined them: FIFA President Sir Stanley Rous, his opposite number at UEFA Gustav Wiederkehr and Yugoslav star Dragan Dzˇajic´ addressed the audience. The delegates had gathered to celebrate fifty years of football, but they commemorated the game’s revolutionary sacrifices throughout the year.3 At the closing ceremony in Belgrade, Tito’s emissary Nikola Pavletic´ presented the FSJ with the esteemed ‘Decoration of Merit

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Figure 15 The FSJ celebrates its 50th anniversary. Zagreb, 1969. Archive of Yugoslavia 734/K-107. for the People with a Gold Wreath’. His speech recapitulated the game’s contribution to the forging of Yugoslavia: The sport of football, as a result of its massive scale, its qualities and its results, as a result of its militancy and patriotism, was already in the interwar years and during the war of liberation – and also today – a worthy representative of socialist Yugoslavia. In the prewar period numerous football organisations were centres for gathering revolutionary activities and hubs for our Party’s work. Such activity resulted in the very active and widespread participation of members of football organisations in the National Liberation Struggle, of whom 2,500 laid down their lives, and nearly 50 were decorated with the greatest wartime recognition – the order of National Hero. Allow me, comrades, while presenting this important decoration on comrade Tito’s behalf, to congratulate you on your valuable jubilee with the wish that your results continue to serve the pride of our working people, our socialist community of socialist Yugoslavia.4

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The delegates stood to honour deceased players and football workers, including the game’s revolutionaries. The organisation thus staked its claim as a pillar of the revolutionary past, present and future. FSJ president Dragoljub Kirc´anski noted that in the postwar years of renewal and construction, clubs served as a gathering point ‘not just for sportsmen, but also for the other builders and working people of our country’. Nevertheless, he could not avoid the uncomfortable scandals and negative publicity of more recent times. Football needed to restore its reputation: We legalised professionalism . . . we were immediately clear that it couldn’t be professionalism of the western type. The easiest route was to declare the playing of football a profession. That was the easiest part of the job, but the other, more difficult part, is going very slowly, developing in both law and in our attitudes . . . . We must be clear with one truth, which we have not understood for a long time: this society will accept us to the same extent that we confirm – in practice and every day – ourselves as faithful fighters for football as a sport permeated with humanism, with socialist and self-managing content.5 Long in the planning, the anniversary was carefully stage-managed and politically aware. The FSJ formed a commission for recognition and awards and invited constituent associations to nominate deserving candidates. Over nine thousand awards were distributed, but for the highest recognitions nominating bodies had to demonstrate that their nominees’ political conduct off the pitch was commensurate with their achievements on it.6 Among a host of requirements, forms asked for the individual’s nationality, educational background and occupation. A quarter of a century had passed since the war, but wartime behaviour was a key criterion: ‘Where was he and what did he do at the time of the occupation?’ Some responses were emphatic: the Serb Konstantin Zecˇevic´ had been engaged in the National Liberation Struggle since 1941 and was a member of the First Proleterian Brigade; the Slovene Vladimir Kosi was imprisoned until the end of 1943, served as propaganda secretary for the Liberation Front in Ljubljana for a few months, and spent the war’s final year in a concentration camp; the Macedonian Trajan Ivanovski was secretary at revolutionary FK Rabotnicˇki. In other cases, explanations were less assured: the Hungarian Karolj Pal Djetvai is described as having worked as a legal clerk in occupied Vojvodina; the Bosnian Serb Niko Stojan Filipovic´ was ‘at home until 1945’, when he

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joined the movement; the Croatian star Zlatko Cˇajkovski was ‘In Zagreb, played football’; Stjepan Bobek ‘lived with his parents in Zagreb’. The follow-up question, ‘What was his conduct?’, often prompted nominators to respond with question marks of their own. Many of the surviving forms – regardless of the detail – carry the phrase ‘Good conduct’ on the final, neat version.7 Branko Stankovic´ and Frane Matosˇic´, both fiercely criticised by the Party during the 1950s, were among the recipients of these awards. Stankovic´ – whose nomination form describes a player whose class and conduct advanced the standing of the sport and his country ‘in the most noble way’ – received a gold medal, while Matosˇic´ received silver.8 The fact that each constituent association submitted nominations ensured the awards were spread across Yugoslavia’s nations and nationalities.9 Beyond the pomp of these official gatherings, FSJ delegations erected commemorative plaques and laid wreaths in honour of the fallen. Some ceremonies purely concerned football matters, such as marking the site of the first match on Yugoslav territory, but others remembered the 1940s upheavals. At the Maksimir Stadium, national team captain Dzˇajic´ laid a wreath on a plaque honouring the ‘sportsmen of Zagreb who fell in the National Liberation Struggle’. In the capital, a delegation laid wreathes at the Grave of the Liberators of Belgrade and the resting place of interwar footballer and murdered revolutionary Milutin Ivkovic´. Representatives from the football associations of Austria, Bulgaria, Greece and Romania joined them at the Grave of the Unknown Hero. Subsequent commemorations provided clubs with similar opportunities to remember the fallen and stress their enduring socialist credentials into the 1970s and beyond. In some cases, these occasions served to underline the direct links between clubs and the Party. When Velezˇ Mostar marked its fiftieth anniversary in 1972, the president of the honour committee was Mostar-born Dzˇemal Bijedic´, a senior communist who was president of Yugoslavia’s Federal Executive Council (Savezno izvrsˇno vijec´e). He did not doubt the club’s historic importance: Analysing its role over the last 50 years, we can freely state that Velezˇ was not merely a sports club. It was a place for progressive youth to come together: working youth above all. Velezˇ was its own incarnation of everything that was progressive and done illegally, because there was no other way. Velezˇ was a suitable means of disseminating progressive and patriotic ideas: Mostar was both progressive and patriotic. It was a city that, during the whole period

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Figure 16 Dragan Dzˇajic´ honours the fallen sportsmen of Zagreb, April 1969. Archive of Yugoslavia 734/K-107. of the old Yugoslavia’s existence, was the latter’s weak point. . . . Velezˇ constantly operated under the influence of the Communist Party of Yugoslavia and adopted the five-pointed star as its emblem. It was and remains a club that, via sport, mobilised and mobilises progressive forces for deeds that surpass the reasons for which a sports club ought to exist. . . . Velezˇ has justified its existence in multiple ways. Velezˇ is a willful hero, a colossus like the mountain after which it is named!10 When Bijedic´ died tragically in a plane crash five years later, the club and his native city mourned his loss. Velezˇ participated in a memorial tournament named in his honour, organised by Bosnian gastarbeiters living in Vienna. Thousands of Yugoslavs gathered at the event, armed with portraits of Bijedic´ and Tito.11 Prompted by these significant anniversaries, municipal authorities all over the country took steps to ensure that revolutionary sportsmen were not forgotten. Schools, factories and streets were renamed in their honour, while busts, monuments and commemorative plaques proliferated at stadiums.12 When Serbian club Napredak (Progress) Krusˇevac won promotion to the

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First League in 1976 – its thirtieth anniversary year – the town rallied to ensure its ground was fit for purpose. Shortly after the redevelopment, a memorial entrance gate was erected.13 Although the club was founded in 1946, the gate honours the town’s footballers who fell in the National Liberation Struggle. The detail provided for each of the 26 named victims is remarkable: ‘2. Radomir Stojilovic´ Kic´a, machine-gunner of the Rasina National Liberation Struggle Partizan Detachment “Mirko Tomic´”, killed 1943 . . . 5. Radmilo Đord¯evic´ Njonja, rear-echelon activist, shot 1943 . . . 17. Dragoljub Makic´ Dragi, rear-echelon activist, slaughtered by the Cˇetniks 1944’.14 These acts of remembrance continued into Yugoslavia’s final decade. To mark its sixtieth anniversary, Buduc´nost Titograd erected a plaque in 1985. It remembers players and administrators ‘who gave their lives for the victory of the socialist revolution’.15 Alongside these physical memorials, clubs and organisations marked anniversaries via the publication of exquisite histories, laden with revolutionary sentiment and evidence of their respective contributions. As early as 1955, Radnicˇki Belgrade published a text saturated with heroic stories and artistic depictions of fallen members, national heroes and Spanish Civil War veterans. In later decades, clubs across the country harnessed comparable volumes to underline their revolutionary credentials.16 When the reality of the past was ill-suited to present needs, especially when prominent individuals were condemned as enemies of the people, it was simply erased from club histories.17 Tea Sindbæk notes that ‘the original grand narrative of the Partisans’ heroic struggle remained a backbone of Yugoslav historical culture throughout the Titoist period’.18 This simplified interpretation pervaded all spheres of society, elevating many clubs that claimed a stake in it. By the time of the FSJ’s jubilee, however, alternative interpretations of past and present – concerning both the game and the state – began to complicate the unifying narrative.

Expressing Discontent The Zagreb Football Association (Zagrebacˇki nogometni savez, ZNS) celebrated its fiftieth anniversary at the same time as the overarching FSJ, marking the occasion with a published record of its achievements.19 Workers’ clubs and revolutionary footballers receive pride of place, but there are also traces of more immediate concerns: hints of the strained relationships that prevailed in the game and wider society during the Croatian Spring. Ongoing reforms left Yugoslavia decentralised to a considerable degree by the end of the 1960s. Constitutional amendments made in 1970 with

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substantial input from Croatian reformers recognised the republics as ‘sovereign’.20 Nevertheless, Croatia’s liberal leadership deemed the pace of economic reform to be too slow. They pressed for further banking decentralisation alongside foreign currency reforms to enable the republic to retain a greater portion of profits from the lucrative Dalmatian tourist industry. Increasingly isolated in its demands for change, the slogan ‘5 to 1’ gained currency as a means of depicting Croatia’s relationship with the other Yugoslav republics.21 Croats felt that their contribution to the federal budget was disproportionate, its profits syphoned off to poorer southern regions. These economic concerns accompanied growing perceptions of a cultural threat. In 1967, Croatian intellectuals repudiated the Novi Sad Agreement on the creation of a shared Serbo– Croat language. This marked the beginning of more confident assertions of national identity. By winter 1970, students and lecturers at Zagreb University were electing independent candidates to institutional positions. Intellectuals condemned the ‘Stalinist and unitaristic’ views of those who opposed radical reform. In a liberal atmosphere, the cultural institution Matica Hrvatska expanded its activities, while a newly founded newspaper and student bodies pressed for increased autonomy for ‘exploited’ Croatia.22 Most worryingly for Tito, the Croatian Party secretary and former sports administrator Miko Tripalo rode this wave of nationalist euphoria. The Croatian League of Communists (Savez komunista Hrvatske, SKH) enjoyed unprecedented popularity as the crisis deepened. In November 1971, Matica Hrvatska exploited newfound freedoms to lobby for the right to self-determination and even secession, while Croatian Party leader Savka Dabcˇevic´-Kucˇar told her comrades that, far from weakening socialism, the nationalist movement proved that ‘a unity of nation and Party’ had been forged in the republic.23 MASPOK (Masovni pokret, Mass Movement), as it came to be known, also spurred – and was further exacerbated by – the radicalisation of Serbian national sentiment within the republic’s sizable Serb minority (14.2 per cent of the population). Croatia was in unchartered territory and Yugoslavia was in crisis. In this heated atmosphere, the Zagreb Football Association used its anniversary to fuel the fire. Sections of its commemorative publication sit awkwardly with the official narrative peddled by the FSJ. Those who read it were left with no doubt that both the Croatian capital and the republic as a whole were victims of ‘clear discrimination’ in sport.24 As Croatian historians eagerly revisited interwar political injustices, the ZNS recalled the hostile and chauvinist conduct of Belgrade that characterised football relations during the same period. Yet the prime examples of discrimination

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and exploitation were drawn from the communist era. Readers were reminded about the abolition of Zagreb’s four ‘excellent’ clubs in 1945. No justification for this prohibition was offered other than a statement that the activities of the highly successful Grad¯anski were ‘cut short’ by the fascist occupation. The fact that the club thrived in Ante Pavelic´’s fascist puppet state, winning two wartime championships, was entirely ignored. Despite the communists’ heavy-handed actions, a direct lineage tied the newly founded Dinamo to its (not so) tainted predecessor: ‘not everything is in the name. The tradition remained. A great and glorious tradition’. The new club wore Grad¯anski’s blue, engaged many of its former players and thousands of Grad¯anski followers became Dinamo supporters ‘overnight’.25 While the team’s wartime conduct was deemed too damaging, interwar glories and continuity with them were to be savoured in a newly confident Croatia. In the eyes of many Zagreb citizens, Belgrade was directly responsible for a related process that did lasting damage to the Croatian game. The anniversary publication repeatedly recalls the loss of Croatia’s greatest players to Belgrade at the end of the war. Rather than viewing the fact that Croatian footballers dominated the first Yugoslav Army representation as a source of pride, by 1970 this ‘great postwar migration’ was blamed for gravely weakening the Zagreb game.26 When Partizan won the first Yugoslav championship, it did so with a spine of players from Zagreb, including stars Stjepan Bobek and Zlatko Cˇajkovski.27 In these new circumstances, the game’s chroniclers held up this haemorrhage of skilled footballers to Belgrade as a direct cause for Dinamo’s limited success. The ZNS vented a host of other frustrations. The Zagreb game struggled to compete financially with powerful opponents, both in Belgrade and abroad, and the city continued to lose its best players and coaches. Moreover, the ZNS held the Belgrade-based FSJ responsible for crises that had rocked the game in the previous decade. Festering discontent bubbled to the surface in the jubilee publication, which claims the Croatian game was at the sharp end of injustice administered from the centre. The majority of clubs on the receiving end of the heaviest punishments – such as in the Planinic´ and Osijek Affairs – were Croatian: ‘although, not in a single case can it be said that they were the cause of dark days and unwanted practises in our football’.28 In this environment, the Croatian association, along with Dinamo president Ivan Sˇibl, had been at the forefront of attempts to democratise and decentralise the FSJ during the 1960s. Despite a range of constructive recommendations for reform, these Croatian efforts were frustrated by an organisation that ‘lags behind societal developments, not

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emulating them in any way’.29 Indeed, the anniversary volume condemned the glacial pace of reform: Although the radical changes of decentralisation, self-management and a democratic spirit have been implemented across our whole system, in the house of football everything has remained closed inside a wall that is already cracked by the onslaught of time. Even today the Football Association of Yugoslavia lacks an established legal purpose for its existence; it still places itself above the game’s structures like a supreme executive body. Not to mention the fact that all keys have remained in one place, while no effort has been made to transfer greater functions and rights to republican associations, provincial associations and clubs . . . . Why can’t individual bodies be transferred to other republics? Why not start to demolish centralism in management and, in general, that ‘Chinese Wall’ of distrust, suspicion and one-sidedness?30 This palpable discontent, so reminiscent of the interwar dispute, mirrored the political arguments aired in the streets of the restless republic. When the Dinamo squad that won the Inter-Cities Fairs Cup in 1967 were interviewed about their European achievement over four decades later, they grounded it in the politics of the day. They claimed that despite having a very strong side, it had been almost impossible for them to win the Yugoslav championship. In the face of domestic injustice, Branko Gracˇanin felt the club played a special role in the years leading up to the Croatian Spring: ‘Dinamo meant some kind of resistance, from Croatian national feeling and the citizens of Zagreb, towards Belgrade, and towards the clique of that time who did everything to ensure that Dinamo would not be champion’.31 In 1968, there was so little confidence in the integrity of domestic referees that Dinamo, with the support of Hajduk and others, successfully lobbied the FSJ to allow foreign officials to oversee domestic matches once again. As the only club to take advantage of the concession, Dinamo ‘by no coincidence’ won all matches officiated in this manner. The practice was swiftly abandoned amid fierce pressure from Yugoslav referees, but the affair added to Zagreb’s sense of injustice.32 Dinamo goalkeeper Zlatko Sˇkoric´ recalled that the club’s popularity and success in the late 1960s prompted a phone call from Belgrade demanding the team be broken up: ‘too many people were always in the

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same place at the stadium, which was dangerous for the regime, especially for Croatia which was already crying out for independence . . . during those years’.33 Whether or not such a blatant directive was issued, three of the club’s star players – Marijan Brncˇic´, Slaven Zambata and Sˇkoric´ himself – were summoned for military service in the winter of 1967, while coach Branko Zebec left for Bayern Munich shortly afterwards. These three players transferred abroad after serving their time in the JNA. Some of their teammates also took up lucrative deals beyond Yugoslavia’s borders, but this was nothing unusual, especially compared with the dispersal of the 1966 Partizan side. Regardless, for the ZNS, foreign transfers were a major contributing factor to the weakening of Croatian teams.34 Whatever the cause, Dinamo would not win another championship until the 1980s. A provocative decision taken in Belgrade sparked the most prominent football unrest of the Croatian Spring. In September 1970, Hajduk’s home match against OFK Belgrade was abandoned when the referee collapsed for no apparent reason. When he was discharged from hospital, Pavle Ristic´ – a Serb from Novi Sad – claimed to have been struck by an object thrown from the crowd. Neither of his assistants witnessed this, nor did any players, and no object was found when the pitch was searched afterwards. The only other person who claimed to have seen a missile was a photographer from a Belgrade publication. The crowd had been wellbehaved, but if football’s governing body judged that the incident was caused by reckless fan behaviour, title-chasing Hajduk stood to forfeit the match. The whole affair degenerated into a scandal as newspapers in Belgrade and Split presented differing accounts. Even doctors from the two cities reached contradictory conclusions as to what caused Ristic´’s collapse.35 When the Competition Commission of the Union of First Federal League Football Clubs gathered to assess the evidence at FSJ headquarters, their decision shocked Split’s sporting public: although the score stood at 2– 2 when the fixture was cut short, the visitors were awarded a 3 – 0 victory at Hajduk’s expense. Football’s self-managing structure resulted in a commission composed of delegates from Serbia, Bosnia and Vojvodina.36 Nevertheless, frustrated supporters in Split and elsewhere in Croatia condemned a decision based on dubious evidence as the latest instance of Belgrade foul play. Hundreds of fans descended upon the city centre when news of the verdict reached the Dalmatian coast. What started as a protest against sporting injustice rapidly deteriorated into a volatile demonstration as youths rampaged through the streets. On the promenade, a group attacked cars with Belgrade licence plates, overturning three of them and

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pushing another into the sea. Rioters also chanted chauvinist slogans, giving the incident a political edge.37 As photographs of underwater salvage experts retrieving the vehicle gave the scandal its iconic imagery in the following morning’s press, demonstrators regrouped at the clubhouse to hear how the Hajduk board would respond to the ruling. They brandished flags with the club’s interwar badge – with its red-and-white chequered Croatian sˇahovnica instead of the prevailing five-pointed star – and held aloft placards scrawled with the statement: ‘We will withdraw from the League!’ Overt political slogans conflating the republic’s clubs with the leaders of the Croatian Spring also rang out: ‘Hajduk – Dinamo – Savka – Tripalo’.38 That evening witnessed more violence as youths destroyed a kiosk of the Belgrade newspaper Borba, attacked a bus belonging to the Yugoslav airline and damaged premises with connections to the federal capital. Other acts were more indiscriminate, including an incident where teenagers smashed a high school’s windows. The police made multiple arrests during the two days of disorder. Individuals were sentenced to short jail terms and given financial penalties, with ‘shouting of chauvinist slogans’ among the offences for which they were convicted.39 Hajduk’s administration condemned the minority of demonstrators who had hijacked the incident and reiterated the club’s proud revolutionary role. At the same time, they expressed their anger over the Belgrade commission’s ‘slapdash and one-sided’ ruling.40 Steadfast in its intentions to appeal, the club was even prepared to take the matter to the law courts if necessary. Echoing Hajduk’s stance, representatives of the city’s socio-political organisations released a joint statement that rounded on chauvinist demonstrators who had exploited the situation and presented the city in a negative light. But they consciously separated this condemnation of a violent minority from the issue that had provoked the disorder: the commission’s ‘rash and hasty’ judgement was ‘deeply surprising and indicates that there are serious problems in the institutions of our elite football’.41 The Executive Committee of the highest echelons of the Croatian League of Communists gathered in Zagreb a week after the unrest. Again, they condemned the violence in the strongest terms, but they also downplayed the significance of its chauvinist aspects. Some of the senior communists who spoke on the matter had direct links with Hajduk, including Jure Bilic´, who was among those disciplined in 1950. For him, the city’s youth was not chauvinist, and ‘those who express fears that inconclusive and detached incidents will endanger our country are either ill-intentioned or naı¨ve’. Others noted that property with no connection to Belgrade was also

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targeted, calling into question any nationalist motivations. Yet, even these political elites asked uncomfortable questions of the FSJ: ‘why isn’t Hajduk dealt with in the same manner as other clubs in similar situations?’ The Executive Committee’s secretary, Pero Pirker, ‘warned sporting bodies that they must always bear in mind both the sporting and political repercussions that their decisions could provoke’.42 The Presidency of the Union of First Federal League Football Clubs overturned the controversial ruling within days of the Croatian Party’s public critique. The game was recorded as a 2 –2 draw. Moreover, Split’s flagship club went on to win the Yugoslav championship, ensuring that 1971 was a ‘Croatian Spring, but, in the sphere of football, also Hajduk’s Spring’.43 When the team secured the title in an away match against Vojvodina, sixty thousand jubilant inhabitants deserted their workplaces, schools and universities to gather on Split’s promenade and greet the hydrofoil that brought their heroes triumphantly home.44 Croatian discontent reached its climax that winter. The army secretly showed Tito footage from mass meetings of Croatian communists featuring Croatian flags without the red star, as well as anti-Tito slogans. When thousands of students went on strike in November, protesting against perceived injustices and pressing for national goals, the situation rapidly deteriorated. Some called for outright independence in protests with a strong anti-Serbian flavour. In the face of this open threat, the Yugoslav president publically condemned his liberal Croatian comrades. The latter resigned from their positions in December, sparking an extensive crackdown that imprisoned several hundred students, officials and nationalists, abolished the cultural organisation Matica Hrvatska and expelled tens of thousands from the Party. As Tito voiced his fears of a potential civil war, MASPOK was crushed and Croatia fell silent. Nevertheless, many of its political objectives would be implemented at the federal level in the following years.45 There was also discontent in other republics, not least in Serbia, where the increasingly nationalist tone of political discourse found expression through the singing of forbidden patriotic songs in and around football stadiums.46 The Party recognised the dangerous mixture of subversive politics and sport. In June 1971, Tito discussed sport’s centrality to Yugoslav cohesion: Brotherhood and unity is an important factor. Among sportsmen there are the fewest of these problems. They should be an example in the development of brotherhood and unity, because sport is

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universal, very useful and important, and not only in a multi-ethnic country. Let every republic develop it as much as they can, and let us have inter-republic [med¯usobno] competition, but without negative tendencies47 Croatia subsequently became known as the ‘silent republic’ and a sense of injustice became less conspicuous in the football sphere. When Dinamo marked its thirtieth anniversary in 1975, the obligatory commemorative publication hardly touched upon the interwar game and made no attempt to establish direct links with disgraced predecessors. It explained that Zagreb’s clubs had been abolished because of their wartime activities. The editor of the Zagreb association’s forthright 1970 volume was among the contributors to this chastened text. Dinamo may have been ‘born in the liberated homeland on the foundations of the rich tradition of Zagreb football’, but the explicit lineage to Grad¯anski was downplayed in the sensitive climate of post-Spring Zagreb (though photographs of Dinamo players in Grad¯anski and HASˇK shirts did much to undermine the revised narrative). The 1945 loss of the city’s football talent to Belgrade was seriously downplayed in the new circumstances.48

Bolstering Self-Management Practices The portacabin office is typical of those that litter sports grounds across the former Yugoslavia. Fuad Mulahasanovic´ smokes a cigarette at his desk, surrounded by faded team photographs mounted on the wood-panelled walls. Mulahasanovic´ is part of the team that tends to the pitches at Sloboda Tuzla’s stadium. He used to be the prime attraction: for a decade, he was a permanent fixture in Sloboda’s most successful side. Making nearly 600 appearances, by the end of the 1970s he was both captain and the best player.49 He represented his country at under – 23 level but, like other talented Bosnians of his era, playing far from the gaze of Belgrade damaged his prospects of making the senior reprezentacija.50 During the 1970s, Sloboda regularly finished near the top of the First League. Thousands packed modest terraces totally inadequate for the largest games. While Sloboda thrived on the pitch – reaching the Marshal Tito Cup Final, finishing third in the league and qualifying to represent Yugoslavia in Europe – the club endeavoured to be a model socialist institution off it. As professional football strove to adhere to the latest developments in self-management, Bosnia & Hercegovina’s revolutionary workers’ clubs stood in the vanguard. However, the contradictions and

Figure 17 Ljubisˇa Rajkovic´, Vahid Halilhodzˇic´ and Fuad Mulahasanovic´ (right) prior to the 1976 U – 23 Championship semi-final between Yugoslavia and Hungary in Novi Sad. Courtesy of Fuad Mulahasanovic´.

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complexities of the game’s finances, twinned with the rhetoric of selfmanagement, left stars like Mulahasanovic´ in the firing line. Self-management was implemented slowly at sports societies, with public organisations among the last entities to restructure. As long as football perpetuated the lie of amateurism, the potential of harnessing advances that drove other parts of the economy was limited. Amid the scandals of the 1950s and 1960s, influential figures associated with the game had abused the concept of self-management. Decentralised structures of governance facilitated match fixing, lucrative transfers and player payments, largely funded through dubious means: ‘Basic social norms, morals and the ethics of a self-managing socialist society were relentlessly trampled. Self-management was almost entirely suspended, because individuals – as significant representatives of government and politics – used it as a front for hiding classic criminality in sport’.51 When left to manage its own affairs, the elite game demonstrated that, while capable of generating income, it was prone to excess. These unsavoury practices underlined the desperate need for reform. Professionalism was officially recognised in the late 1960s, enabling clubs to embrace self-management. This watershed moment also encouraged reformers to explore ways to democratise and decentralise football. At the time of its fiftieth anniversary, the FSJ viewed the implementation of self-management mechanisms as a pressing task, but the game had already been restructured by that stage. The Union of First Federal League Football Clubs was founded as a self-managing organ in 1966.52 The FSJ’s other bodies also explored ways to embrace Yugoslavia’s distinct labour relations. For instance, the 1967 conference of the Association of Football Coaches was saturated with the terminology of self-management. In a system that encouraged each constituent body to push its own interests, the coaches emphasised their pivotal role: the expert in the club will become not just a part of the production machine, but also the organiser of production, the technologist, and, as such, a corresponding part of the profits produced will belong to him. . . . the path where the students are awarded more highly than their teacher is a mistaken one and leads to the excesses of football starlets and stars which we have encountered in the past53 Although in a preliminary phase, self-management had the potential to provide clubs and their workers with a degree of independence from the ‘vertical football organisation’, with the FSJ at its summit.

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The coaching body invested considerable effort in formulating its stance on the ‘natural structure’ of the game. The jargon of self-management was fiendishly complex, if not impenetrable for the outsider, but those involved in football’s administration, and all other industries – endeavoured to tailor the practice for their specific requirements. The coaches theorised football as ‘a socio-professional organisation . . . a system of interdependent and autonomous professions’. The latter included players, coaches, referees and sports journalists, all of whom were indispensable constituent parts of the game. These ‘producers’ needed to be at the core of administration. In addition, any organisational structure needed to account for other factors that defined Yugoslav society, including the principles of social equality, federation and the equality of nations and nationalities.54 In this context, it was hard to arrive at even basic decisions. Nevertheless, at least on paper the FSJ evolved into a body that ‘operated on self-managing principles of consultation on the primary questions of football’s development’.55 At the beginning of the 1970s, the League of Communists of Yugoslavia (Savez komunista Jugoslavije, SKJ) took steps to reinvigorate a selfmanagement system that had gone astray. Tito and the Executive Bureau of the Central Committee Presidency published a letter that declared war on the Party’s weaknesses. In particular, it condemned bureaucratic mentalities, ‘petty bourgeois anarchy’, views that ran contrary to socialist selfmanagement and political disunity that impeded the implementation of policies. In the ensuing re-examination of society, the Party once again singled out sport as a sphere ‘affected by deep deformities’.56 As part of wide-ranging efforts to find a solution, football’s overarching bodies and professional clubs would abandon assemblies and boards of directors in favour of the cutting-edge conference and presidency system as selfmanaging organisations proliferated.57 Esteemed workers’ teams were among the first to embrace the challenge. Velezˇ established a formidable array of self-managing organs and commissions. By 1980, the club had a 15-member presidency, a conference made up of 61 delegates, and 11 commissions – encompassing over 100 activists – for individual aspects of club life. These organs coordinated their activities and worked closely with socio-political organisations in Mostar and the wider region.58 Velezˇ also took steps to ensure that the Party was its driving force when it formed its own Local Branch of the League of Communists (Osnovna organizacija Saveza komunista, OOSK) in 1975. With this, Velezˇ laid claim to being the first sports organisation in the country which, via its OOSK, was ‘creating the conditions so that even in a specific setting – such as a football club – the League of Communists presents itself

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as the leading ideological and political force’. This local branch served as a transmission belt for SKJ policies. Almost the entire playing and coaching staff were card-carrying Party members.59 Footballers were directly involved in running clubs. At Radnicˇki Kragujevac, team captain Dragic´ Sˇpiljevic´ was part of the executive committee.60 In 1981, Sead Kreso, president of Velezˇ’s presidency and conference, explained: There are currently two active footballers in the presidency: Enver Maric´ and Dragan Okuka. In every commission there is at least one footballer. For all questions of essential interest to the club’s life and work the footballers are consulted in advance; their views are really significant when making all decisions. They participate in the devising of club politics as a whole, from the distribution of funds to the adoption of self-management acts. Only then does the presidency or conference comment on everything. It is a long road, but it has showed itself to be a very good method of working which, understandably, should always be refined. I must emphasise that footballers are demonstrating an ever-greater interest in the club’s life and work as a whole.61 Despite Kreso’s positivity, these complex forms of governance rarely functioned in the manner intended. As ever, the leading clubs usually paid scant attention to official procedures and professional football sat awkwardly alongside Yugoslavia’s complex Associated Labour Act.62 For all of the alleged benefits of self-management, football’s problems remained unchanged. When Radnicˇki Kragujevac’s newly constituted parliament convened for the first time in 1976, there was nothing progressive about the discussion. It would have sounded familiar to clubs operating within virtually every political system in the world. Radnicˇki had finished bottom of the First League and faced relegation, but the administration refused to accept responsibility for the ‘fiasco’. Instead, they accused professional players and coaches of abusing their status by behaving unprofessionally and letting the club down.63 The fact that all eighteen league clubs were professional, and that, logically, one of them had to finish bottom, was not taken into consideration. So many different forces acted upon the game that scandals were inevitable. As clubs nurtured identities as progressive, law-abiding and loyal members of Yugoslavia’s self-managing society, they grappled with

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the raw economics that dictated the game’s operation. Maintaining a competitive squad in the First League was an expensive business. By 1971, Sloboda was heavily in debt, and players’ wages went unpaid for months. The club took out a loan as a short-term solution and appealed to local factories and the municipal authority for additional support. Local mines and other firms already contributed significant amounts to its budget.64 Skirmishes over the signatures of Yugoslavia’s best players exacerbated these economic woes. To retain star footballers, Sloboda had to pay the ‘market’ rate, whether above board or not. In 1981, a scandal broke in the local press. Surprised with provincial Tuzla’s ability to retain a prized asset like Fuad Mulahasanovic´, Front slobode investigated the matter. What the newspaper found was not exactly in keeping with the ethics of self-management socialism. The club, which had made losses in the region of 3.2 million dinars in the previous year, purchased large premises in the city and let them out to Mulahasanovic´ so that he could run a cafe´. The deal was very favourable to Sloboda’s captain, who secured a fifteen-year lease for a symbolic monthly rent equivalent to a residential apartment in the same building, or ten times less than the market value. The contract also enabled Mulahasanovic´ to sublet the cafe´ to his brother while continuing to earn his club salary. For the exasperated journalist, the extent to which such practices – conducted by powerful political and business figures with senior roles at the club – undermined socialism was all too much: it is incomprehensible that this type of politics is going on in a football club with the blessing of people who talk about self-management, respect for legislative regulations, payment according to work performed, morals, etc. In practice, with such actions they are slapping self-management in the face, forgetting that their golden boy and star – without whom, allegedly, there would be neither a club nor any kind of prestige for the city – will earn around 5.5 million dinars annually from the cafe´ alone. That is twice as much as the Museum of Eastern Bosnia costs this community annually; it is equal to the personal annual income of twenty scientists, or seventy workers with an average personal income of 7,000 dinars. The life of such a worker will pass and he will not earn the sum that . . . Mulahasanovic´ will turn around in the course of one year – all with state help, more precisely with the help of a group of people.65

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After this public attack, Mulahasanovic´ demanded that the newspaper publish his response immediately. He tried to defend himself with reference to commonplace practices in the game, noting that unlike most footballers he had never been given an apartment, while many less accomplished players had received excessive rewards at the beginning of their careers. He was most offended by the newspaper’s efforts to pit him against Tuzla’s scientists and workers. By sensationalising his job, the article placed the player outside of his community and made him ‘a foreigner to virtually all of socialism’s achievements’. In an attempt to restore his honour, Mulahasanovic´ drew attention to his Party membership, his recognition as an exemplary soldier and his exceptional record of fair play (two yellow cards in 600 matches). He also mocked the astronomical calculations that the journalist had ‘fabricated’ regarding the cafe´’s profitability, but he had to acknowledge the allegations surrounding the deal were largely accurate.66 While his defence may have seemed reasonable in comparison to the exploits of other players, it did little to mollify the Bosnian press: his plea was mocked mercilessly. Sarajevo’s Oslobod¯enje declared that most of Mulahasanovic´’s arguments ‘did not deserve to be printed in a serious publication’. Having relayed the details of the cafe´ deal to readers, along with the player’s substantial football earnings, the newspaper underlined the troubling political connotations of such practices: When we mention that, alongside all of this, the president of the Presidency of FK Sloboda is the person who performs the function of Societal Public Attorney of Self-Management in the municipality of Tuzla, no further comment is necessary.67 Mulahasanovic´’s real crime was that he was a relatively big fish at one of Yugoslavia’s smaller clubs. At the game’s summit, such practices were commonplace by the beginning of the 1980s. In 1968, Yugoslavia reached the final of the European Championships. Red Star’s Dragan Dzˇajic´ was the tournament’s top scorer. A global star, Dzˇajic´ was the highest earner in the country. Openly professional football was still in its infancy and his exorbitant income sat uncomfortably in a socialist society. Nevertheless, such players discussed money openly in the press. While Tuzla’s newspapers speculated about the 5.5 million dinars that Mulahasanovic´ might reap from his cafe´, through a combination of wages, bonuses and other payments, Dzˇajic´ made 27 million dinars in a single year, more than ten years earlier, though he admittedly paid 19 million in taxes.68 For the most talented players, lucrative transfers abroad

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were an additional means of making vast sums; only a trickle in the 1950s, football migration became a flood by the end of the following decade, prompting the FSJ to prevent players plying their trade abroad before their 28th birthday.69 Against this backdrop, the game’s financial excesses often provoked calls for the complete abandonment of professionalism, but these ultimately went unheeded.70 This was still socialism, but it did not resemble that of any other socialist country in the world. Within months of the cafe´ scandal, Sloboda’s captain followed in the footsteps of hundreds of compatriots and left Tuzla to continue his career on foreign shores.71 One of the faded images on the portacabin wall shows Mulahasanovic´ alongside teammates at Aris Thessaloniki.72 Yet while the complexities of governance and professionalism’s excesses troubled football off the pitch throughout the 1970s, on it high-profile matches continued to underpin the unity of the multi-ethnic state.

An Enduring Force of Unity Carlo Sinosich spent eighteen years at sea. Working as a ship’s electrician, he saw the world in the service of a Belgian shipping company. But like hundreds of thousands of Yugoslav workers, his life is studded with football experiences. He was nine years old when he watched his first match in 1949. His native Rijeka won promotion to the First League in 1958, before he went to sea and, by stroke of luck, his job gave him the opportunity to watch Yugoslavia play Brazil in Sa˜o Paulo in the early 1970s. But witnessing NK Rijeka lift the Marshal Tito Cup in 1978 was the pinnacle: I had just returned from the sea. At that time I already had a car . . . . So I said to my wife, I’ll go to Belgrade and take my son, who was nine years old. . . . there was no highway. The old road to Zagreb . . . . From Zagreb there was a highway, but not like now. They called the road ‘Brotherhood and Unity’. Very straight. We stayed overnight in Bosnia, in Sˇamac, and then we came to Belgrade: Terazije Square, Knez Mihailova Street . . . . At that time the standard of living was better, you know. You could afford things. I think there were over two thousand from Rijeka: some with cars, others by train.73 Those travelling on the railway and by bus departed for the capital at five in the morning, while a lucky few travelled by plane.

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This final embodied football’s potential to serve as an integrative tool. Although the ‘Big Four’ remained dominant throughout the 1970s, other clubs occasionally broke their stranglehold. NK Rijeka had knocked out Partizan and Hajduk en route to the final, where they faced Trepcˇa from Kosovska Mitrovica. Both were participating in their first final, while the latter, a club nearing the end of its first and only season in the First League, was a rare representative of Kosovo. This unconventional line-up gave the thirtieth final a special feel. It also encouraged interaction between two regions which were radically different in terms of development, economic strength and historical experience and rarely came into direct contact. After long journeys from opposite ends of the country, the rival supporters converged on Belgrade’s Marakana Stadium: They split us two hundred metres apart. A lot came from Kosovo. Albanians . . . . But it was well organised because this was the Cup: the Marshal Tito Cup. This cup meant something for all nations in ex-Yugoslavia, you know. So there were not problems with security normally. There was no trouble. After the game we went together to a restaurant called Sˇumadija. We went for dinner.74 In fact, the Trepcˇa team and its supporters were a multi-ethnic mixture of Serbs and Albanians, mirroring Mitrovica’s demographics. The match facilitated meetings between politicians and socio-political organisations from the finalists’ cities. Delegations made reciprocal visits and they met in Belgrade in the days surrounding the final. The Rijeka party included the presidents of the Rijeka District Assembly, the Rijeka District Conference of the Croatian League of Communists and the Rijeka District Conference of the Socialist Alliance of Working People, as well as a host of other figureheads from trade unions, veterans’ associations and the city’s Chamber of Commerce. Journalists from the two cities arranged social gatherings with each other and their colleagues from Belgrade. Alongside this direct contact, organisers imbued the final with the distinct flavours of the respective regions. At half-time, the 45,000strong crowd and millions of viewers across Yugoslavia were entertained by folklore groups from Kosovo and the Primorje – Istria – Gorski Kotar region of Croatia who performed a medley of dances from their respective homelands. The host republic had provided the pre-match entertainment, with dancers from Mladenovac and Stara Pazova.75 If the unifying symbolism was insufficiently clear, journalists emphasised the Marshal Tito Cup’s ability to bring Yugoslavia’s nations

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and nationalities together. Hundreds of matches had been played, ‘from the snowy Alps to the fertile Vojvodinian plains, from rocky islands to the cold Vardar River, in proud Bosnia and the never subjugated Montenegro, from Zagorje to the Vranje Valley’. The final was the culmination of this unifying force: Even before the final, two such distant, but still close cities, got to know one another better: Rijeka and Kosovska Mitrovica, our biggest port and the city of lead and zinc, with two different ways of life and many different customs, but connected via everything they have achieved up until now, and which they will attain in the future. Football has bound them together with an invisible, but enduring and robust connection of friendship! Before the match, the two regions of our country will present themselves with their dances so as to demonstrate how beautiful and diverse this country of ours is . . . . come kick-off time, numerous supporters in two colours – regardless of whether they have come from Rijeka or Kosovska Mitrovica, Pula or Pristina, Krk or Prizren – will desire victory for their team in a sporting manner, but also welcome every good move of their sporting opponents and, above all, friends.76 Yet even during this joyous occasion, Carlo took care in the vicinity of the stadium. In the late 1970s, Serbo– Croat football relations were not always amicable: ‘I was afraid because I had a car registered in Rijeka and I moved it two kilometres from the stadium. So, there was some reason why I moved. If everything was normal, in a normal town, then I would not have moved my car. So there was always some danger, but only around the stadium. After that you were free in Belgrade. You could eat and drink and nobody would touch you’.77 Rijeka triumphed in extra-time, sparking wild celebrations. This was the club’s first major trophy, but the nature of the occasion ensured the defeated side were not forgotten. In his victory speech, the Rijeka captain commended Trepcˇa for their honourable conduct and sportsmanship. He went on to emphasise the magnitude of the event and its broader political resonance: In the name of all participants in football’s Marshal Tito Cup, and especially finalists Rijeka and Trepcˇa, please convey our sporting

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greetings to comrade Tito, and our sincere congratulations for his birthday tomorrow. Winning the thirtieth jubilee Cup is the greatest success for Rijeka football . . . . That we have achieved this sporting accomplishment in the year when Rijeka and Istria celebrate the thirty-fifth anniversary of their unification with Tito’s Yugoslavia makes our joy all the greater. We are also proud that, by winning the Marshal Tito Cup, we have made our own contribution to the notable labour and societal achievements with which the working people and citizens of Rijeka and Yugoslavia are awaiting the XI Congress of the League of Communists of Yugoslavia. Long live our beloved comrade Tito!78 The whole spectacle was as much a celebration of Tito, as of brotherhood and unity. Eminent sportsmen paraded the highly symbolic Baton of Youth around the stadium. Among them was Partizan and national team defender Nenad Stojkovic´, while basketball star Milun Marovic´ read a greeting to the president. During the multi-ethnic half-time show, spectators used thousands of small red flags to spell out a ‘Greeting to Tito’. Elite Party members from across the federation were in attendance, including senior Kosovar politician and vice-president of the federal presidency Fadilj Hodzˇa, president of the Kosovo League of Communists Mahmut Bakalli and president of the Croatian parliament Jure Bilic´, as well as legendary partisans like Peko Dapcˇevic´. As always, the trophy was presented on Tito’s behalf.79 Carlo and his son left Belgrade after the celebratory dinner. Taking a different route home, their foreign-bought Fiat 1300 trundled south into the mountains of Bosnia, where they slept on the side of the road for a few hours before continuing. Carlo stopped off in Derventa to show his son where he had completed his military service and they also visited the Kozara partisan monument. The whole trip took three days and Carlo exchanged one hundred dollars into dinars to cover it. Back in Rijeka, the victory sparked wild celebrations. Fifteen thousand packed the Korzo to welcome the team and the trophy to the Adriatic. The city’s dignitaries delivered congratulatory speeches underlining the contribution that the footballers had made to the ‘general atmosphere of unity and solidarity’ in Rijeka. Hundreds of blue and white flags fluttered above the crowd and ships sounded their horns in the port beyond.80 Each federal unit was represented in at least one Marshal Tito Cup Final in the postwar years. Although half never witnessed a triumph, they were encompassed by the spectacle nonetheless.81 The women’s game also

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assumed state-wide proportions in this decade, as a federal league was inaugurated in 1975 and served the same integrative role as the men’s competitions.82 Beyond the famous trophies, smaller tournaments underpinned the state at home and abroad. Rijeka established a youth competition, the Kvarnerska Rivijera, in 1953. Still in existence, the tournament is among the oldest of its kind. The event welcomed young people from across Western Europe and the Eastern Bloc, as well as representations from non-aligned countries, the United States, Japan and China. In this way, the most talented under-18s from AC Milan, Bayern Munich and Leeds United appeared on the same pitches as Burevestnik Moscow, Dukla Prague and Motor Karl-Marx-Stadt, as well as Club Africain Tunis, Qadsia Sport Club Kuwait and an Iraqi representation. The line-up evolved with Yugoslavia’s foreign relations, but organisers consistently strove to create ‘new bonds of camaraderie and friendship, to spread brotherhood and unity with the football. On pitches alongside the shore of the upper Adriatic sport has erased state borders’.83 The Kvarnerska Rivijera’s diversity symbolised Yugoslavia’s unique position in global politics. Even domestic participants were invited from across the federation, with every federal unit sending a team at least once. From 1965, Velezˇ also hosted an event. Less encompassing in terms of international participants, it was notable for its revolutionary sentiment. The annual February Tournament for senior clubs marked Mostar’s liberation. Teams flocked to Hercegovina’s pleasant climate during the First League’s winter break and joined their hosts in laying wreaths in memory of fallen partisans and Party members. This commemorative focus ensured that invited foreign participants hailed largely from other socialist states: Honved, Lokomotiv Moscow, Slavija Prague and Magdeburg among them. In 1979, the event was cut short following the announcement of Party ideologue Edvard Kardelj’s death.84 Beyond these modest tournaments, Yugoslavia hosted some of the biggest matches on the continent, including the 1973 European Cup Final and, three years later, the final tournament of the European Championships. In the latter, the hosts lost their semi-final against West Germany.85 The reprezentacija’s decade had begun with Pele´’s 1971 testimonial and another trip to Brazil in the following year. Carlo, who was among the 100,000strong crowd at the second fixture, remembers that Yugoslav football was widely respected there, and that the reprezentacija was nicknamed the ‘Brazil of Europe’.86 Despite this lofty title, Yugoslavia struggled to make an impact on the international stage. They failed to qualify for the World Cup Finals in 1966, 1970 and 1978. The team topped its group at the 1974

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West Germany tournament, thrashing non-aligned Zaire – with its Yugoslav coach – 9 –0 and drawing against holders Brazil, though they were eliminated at the next stage. Tito visited the squad during the tournament. It was also remarkable for the fact that the coaching of the multi-ethnic team was organised on collective self-management principles. A commission of five coaches took charge, with two from Serbia, two from Bosnia & Hercegovina and one from Croatia.87 The notion that the country’s highly rated footballers were underachieving gained traction throughout the decade. This perceived failure was exacerbated by the fact that Yugoslavs played across the continent during an era when clubs tended to be less international in their composition.88 In search of a solution to underwhelming international results, Yugoslav coaches turned to domestic competitions. This was all part of a wider process of soul-searching meant to improve the game, not least because attendances were falling and many professional clubs faced dire financial situations. In 1970, a working group of coaches deemed the 18-club First League and over-bloated Second League (with 64 clubs across four regional groups) to be a major cause of deteriorating quality. The best players were spread too thinly, resulting in unappealing games. Drawing comparisons with developed leagues in other European countries, they concluded that a drastic reduction in clubs (from 82 to 48) would bring a range of benefits. Smaller leagues would, they proposed, raise quality, rejuvenate spectator interest, and improve the prospects of the national team. A reduced fixture list promised to make the country’s elite clubs financially self-sufficient, while ensuring that smaller teams would no longer need to withdraw due to financial difficulties.89 Although the Second League was scapegoated for failings higher up, it was not reduced in size for another three years, while the top flight remained unchanged. Despite perceptions of declining interest, football provided the country’s ruling working class with opportunities to interact, celebrate and commiserate. It also stood ready to defend the revolution and the territorial integrity of the state. Poor Italo – Yugoslav relations over Trieste continued to simmer into the 1970s. When, in March 1974, the Belgrade government interpreted Italian reactions to the erection of Yugoslav border posts in the disputed Zone B as an attempt to claim the territory for Italy, Tito declared his intention to defend Yugoslav sovereignty.90 Many viewed the Italian note of protest as hostile irredentism, sparking widespread demonstrations in solidarity with the presidency. One such protest unfolded at a Second League match between Radnicˇki Kragujevac and Buduc´nost Titograd. The teams emerged with a banner that read: ‘We don’t want what belongs to

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others, but we won’t give away what is ours!’ Ten thousand spectators greeted the gesture and after the game an impassioned telegram was sent to Tito, expressing the willingness of those present in the stadium to defend Yugoslavia’s territorial integrity: In our free and independent self-managing Yugoslavia we work, produce, self-manage, have fun and play sport, as people who live happily in peace, building their own country and a better future. But, if someone has the audacity to attack our independence and our freedom, we will immediately exchange our sports kits for uniforms and there we will be, on the borders to defend every inch of our blood-soaked country. The Italian government’s latest move – which . . . brings to light open claims towards our territory and, with that, adopts the politics of irredentists and fascists – is a clear sign of what this latest imperialist machination represents. It looks like the Italian government has learned nothing from history and the recent past.91 This potentially volatile situation was resolved via the Treaty of Osimo in the following year, with Zone B going to Yugoslavia and Zone A to Italy, but the incident underlined football’s militancy. An ageing Tito enjoyed the loyal backing of the game’s most illustrious clubs.

Tears of Sorrow It was the saddest moment in our history. That derby will not be registered anywhere . . . but it will be remembered for eternity Commentator, Split, 21 May 198092 The floodlit Poljud Stadium is packed, but it falls silent when the announcer stops talking. Match officials and Red Star and Hajduk players form an awkward line on the pitch. The television footage, broadcast to millions of homes across the country, is uncomfortable to watch. Some of the players wipe tears from their eyes, while others look down, immobile, at the grass. Only the shuddering sobs of an inconsolable woman can be heard as the announcer brings the silence to an end. Spontaneously, a solemn song is taken up by large swathes of the 50,000-strong crowd: ‘Comrade Tito, we swear an oath to you, that we will not deviate from your path!’ The match was abandoned in the 41st minute. It was 4 May 1980. Tito was dead.93

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Football’s long 1970s ended as they began: with commemorations and remembrance. By chance, the public announcement of the death of the 87-year-old president for life coincided with a fixture between two of Yugoslavia’s biggest clubs, as well as a game between Dinamo and Zˇeljeznicˇar at the Maksimir Stadium.94 Photographs of distraught footballers instantly became highly symbolic. In the following weeks, Tito dominated the Yugoslav – and international – media. Sports pages were no exception: Zagreb’s SN Revija devoted a special issue to him. Packed with political content, the magazine only turned to sport after seven pages: even this came in the form of interviews with prominent athletes regarding the leader’s demise.95 In an atmosphere of deep solemnity, journalists and historians wrote detailed accounts of Tito’s interaction with sport. Readers were re-familiarised with Tito the sportsman, the role he played in the wartime Partisan Olympics and Hajduk NOVJ, alongside the great athletic manifestations surrounding his birthday: an ‘ingenious statesman, revolutionary and leader, he was also a great architect and friend of sport and physical culture in socialist self-managing Yugoslavia’.96 Tito had been ill for some time, but politicians had been planning for this moment for years. While the Marshal remained president for life, the 1974 constitution had established his successor. A rotating presidency would contain members from each federal unit who would take turns to serve as head of state. More power was devolved to the republics and autonomous provinces at the same time, prompting questions as to how the complex system would function once Tito was no longer the final arbiter. After performing this role for over three decades, Tito was given a state funeral astonishing in its scale. Four days after the tears of the Poljud, it was held in Belgrade, where Tito’s final resting place – the House of Flowers – had already been built. The funeral proceedings resonated globally, underlining the status of both Tito and his country in the world. Dozens of heads of state, political leaders and representatives descended upon the Yugoslav capital to pay their respects. Soviet Premier Leonid Brezhnev appeared alongside British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, India’s Indira Gandhi, Iraq’s Saddam Hussein, and King Olav V of Norway. East, west and the non-aligned were represented in equal measure, as well as international organisations and liberation movements: UN Secretary General Kurt Waldheim stood beside the leaders of both Germanys, Palestine’s Yasser Arafat and a host of eminent figures from Asia, Africa and South America. Yugoslavia’s sporting press covered this extraordinary occasion in minute detail.97 The Football Association had sent telegrams with warm birthday greetings to Tito throughout his life and the game continued to honour its

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fallen leader.98 Hajduk proposed that their abandoned fixture against Red Star become an annual commemorative event. It was envisaged that the memorial match would always be played on 4 May, and that it would be interrupted after 41 minutes and 32 seconds on each occasion – ‘as on that saddest Sunday in the history of the Yugoslav nations and nationalities’ – so that a minute’s silence could be observed. All proceeds from the fixture would go to Tito’s fund for schooling and stipends for young workers and their children.99 More immediately, a minute’s silence was held at the rearranged league fixture between the two sides, played seventeen days after the abandoned game. In the intervening period, rituals of remembrance marked the resumption of matches across the country. All Yugoslav grounds observed a silence, while footballers appeared in black armbands. Dinamo and Hajduk players walked onto the pitch carrying a banner proclaiming: ‘We are all Tito – Tito lives and will live in our hearts!’100 A week later, the first leg of the Marshal Tito Cup Final provided a fitting opportunity for mourning. Before Dinamo and Red Star entered the Maksimir Stadium, the customary pre-match show was imbued with additional meaning. Local children performed a calisthenics programme which climaxed with an intricately choreographed routine in which performers spelt out an oft repeated slogan with their bodies: ‘Comrade Tito, we swear an oath to you’. SN Revija emphasised that this was ‘the pledge made by the nations and nationalities of Yugoslavia to the late President’.101 The second leg in Belgrade was marked with a similar spectacle. Fifty thousand in the stadium and millions watching at home witnessed a medley of folk dances from every republic and province. When the players of both teams emerged onto the pitch, they carried a banner emblazoned with the slogan: ‘Tito will live eternally within us’. As president of the Socialist Youth League, a young Vasil Tupurkovski presented the Marshal’s trophy to victorious Dinamo. One slogan in particular caught the imagination of the population: ‘After Tito, Tito!’ The president would live on through the country’s politics and steadfast observance of his teachings. This fuelled commemorative activities in and around football stadiums, as well as in society at large. While a number of generic hagiographies about Tito’s love for sport were published during the socialist period,102 his direct engagement with football received close attention after his death. His image and words often graced the opening pages of anniversary publications, but they assumed added significance after 1980. For clubs imbued with the revolution, rare encounters with the partisan leader were cherished for years. Tito personally met hundreds of players and officials. He entertained

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Hajduk on six occasions, received Velezˇ in 1973 and – near the end of his life – Sloboda Tuzla in November 1979. These events were proudly harnessed in the following decade.103 When Tito served as patron for Sloboda’s sixtieth anniversary, he met a delegation of sportsmen and sportswomen, including prominent footballers. They took great pride in claiming that this was the last sporting delegation that the president hosted.104 But, more than this valued moment of personal contact, Sloboda cherished Tito’s words: In the world many ask how we, as a multi-national country, manage to sustain such unity. We have been united until now, but we must continue to be going forward. We should cherish brotherhood and unity as a great pledge for the future. Young people should proudly emphasise that they are fighting for brotherhood and unity.105 *** A decade that began with a revitalised fervour for the revolution thus ended with the death of its principal architect. Throughout the 1970s, football was intimately entwined with political commemorations, socialist innovations and celebrations of the multi-ethnic state. At the same time, negative practices resurfaced on a regular basis. Just before the emotional scenes at the Poljud were transmitted to television screens across Yugoslavia, a lesserknown incident contained a hint of what was to follow. Fighting broke out on the north terrace between Hajduk supporters and soldiers who went to the match to support Red Star. Following the announcement, these skirmishes were overshadowed by the collective declaration of loyalty to Tito’s path, which emanated from the same section of the stadium and subsequently spread around the ground.106 Yet, as the economy crumbled over the following decade, the preceding violent sentiments would triumph over this unified pledge of allegiance.

CHAPTER 6 AFTER TITO, NATIONALISM! THE 1980S

Decrepit city buses in the blue and cream livery of Novi Sad’s Public Transport Company crawl towards Belgrade. There is a heavy police escort at either end of the column of vehicles. Chants ring out and youths rhythmically smash their fists against the windows. The driver stops to retrieve a dislodged pane from the middle of the carriageway. These are the descendants of the Red Firm supporters’ group, travelling towards Red Star’s hostile Marakana Stadium. The group has made this trip annually since it was founded in 1989. FK Vojvodina won the Yugoslav championship in that year, giving momentum to the activities of jubilant young supporters. Similar groups emerged across Yugoslavia during its final decade, as a distinct supporting culture evolved at a time when nationalism resurfaced as the principal threat to the multi-ethnic state. As these processes became entwined, public attention shifted away from the pitch to the disorder on the terraces. Yet at the beginning of the 1980s, the game was mired in a different kind of scandal. As the state slid into crisis after Tito’s death, football endured crises of its own which brought players, clubs and organisations into disrepute – and the ailing socialist system was largely responsible.

Crises and Continuities In one sense, the decade began brightly. In 1981, a proud bastion of communism enjoyed its finest hour. Velezˇ lifted the Marshal Tito Cup in Belgrade before thousands of travelling supporters. Multi-ethnic Mostar’s communist organisations worked tirelessly to organise the mass exodus to

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FK Vojvodina supporters pause en route to Belgrade. Author,

the Yugoslav capital, embracing the opportunity to express commitment to brotherhood and unity.1 The occasion was draped in the trappings of Yugoslav Socialist Patriotism. When Velezˇ paraded the trophy before 20,000 supporters in their own stadium, they carried a banner which declared: ‘Comrade Tito, we swear an oath to you, that we will not deviate from your path’. In response, the crowd roared: ‘We are Tito’s and Tito is ours!’ President of the Mostar Municipal Assembly, Dzˇevad Dervisˇkadic´, presented the players with illustrated biographies of their deceased leader, while Velezˇ captain Enver Maric´ grounded their feat in the achievements of the Party: Our pride and joy are all the greater because we won the dearest trophy in the year when our nations and nationalities are celebrating the fortieth anniversary of the uprising and socialist revolution. In this way we are repaying Mostar and Hercegovina, and all generations of our club: especially the pre-war generation, who in 1941 – with the red shirt of the Velezˇ Workers’ Sports Society – were among the first to join the National Liberation Struggle2 Despite this harmonious display of loyalty, all was not well with Yugoslavia – nor with its favourite game. Tito’s death produced a vacuum. The League of Communists, left without an ultimate arbiter, started to decay. Its collective leadership lacked a coherent vision for the future. After the 1974 devolution, federal institutions served as arenas for constituent units to haggle among themselves. The need for consensus resulted in a sluggish and ineffective system. Simultaneously, the economy went into sharp decline, prompting

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parts of the leadership to blame extensive decentralisation for the country’s difficulties.3 Inflation, running at 20 per cent per year in 1979, reached 60 per cent by 1985. In the absence of agreement over reform, the ailing leadership borrowed more money. Foreign debt soared as the economy took a nosedive, reaching 20 billion dollars by 1982. The collective presidency consisted largely of the partisan generation, with an average age of 68, who offered few new ideas. Indeed, the political old guard consistently blocked economic reforms. A steadily rising standard of living, which had minimised criticism of the Party for two decades, declined by a quarter between 1979 and 1985. Strict austerity measures produced shortages and cuts and drove up unemployment. Revelations of corruption and squandered public funds in parts of the country intensified this discontent.4 Football mirrored the broader malaise, displaying similar symptoms, and the game’s problems were closely connected to those of the ossifying state. The ageing political elite who fervently protected the achievements of socialism – and their own privileges – cherished their positions in football’s highest echelons. Moreover, with the game’s administrative structure explicitly modelled on the devolved 1974 system, its constituent bodies pulled in different directions, much the same as their political counterparts. Clubs continued to break the rules, using ‘dark reserves’ to attract and retain the best players. Large sums surreptitiously changed hands and political deals were concluded when talented footballers transferred from one club to another. As players reaped the rewards of the secretive system, pervasive match fixing cast a shadow over the morally bankrupt game.5 By the 1980s, a season rarely passed without irregularities. Referees and players were bribed openly. The stakes were high in annual relegation and promotion battles: alongside political figures, club administrations contained police officials and businessmen; federal league clubs boosted national, regional and civic pride; and public money poured into teams across the country. On the final day of the 1979 –80 season, OFK Belgrade needed to match the result of its nearest rival to secure promotion to the First League. With minutes to go, the team were 2 – 0 up in their match at Pristina, but the score in another game – involving promotion contenders Radnicˇki Kragujevac – meant they would be one goal short of their target. Then a ‘miracle’ occurred. A Pristina fan allegedly pelted the linesman with a stone, giving the referee the pretext to abandon the game. Some reports held that the incident had been staged when news of the other result reached Pristina. The rules stated that any guilty party would forfeit the game 3 – 0. That additional goal secured First League football for OFK. The whole affair caused a media scandal and provoked formal complaints, but to no avail.6

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OFK were promoted and the incident became the latest in a long line of suspicious matches. The following season was also shrouded in controversy, as eight clubs, OFK among them, fought against relegation. The final rounds of matches were littered with surprising results as the competition degenerated into a farce in which footballing ability ceased to be the best means of retaining First League status. Faced with obvious wrongdoing, thousands of spectators booed referees and even their own players. Off the record, many of the country’s coaches acknowledged that match fixing was commonplace. Senior players, fearful of the implications for their careers, rarely addressed the issue. Yet when the opportunity arose, their comments were telling. Footballers with lucrative foreign contracts sometimes spoke out. No longer subject to the whims of Yugoslav referees, they condemned the degeneracy of the First League. International defender Ivan Buljan mourned that ‘not a single one of our championships is regular’, with corrupt functionaries and match officials to blame. There was no need to play at all: ‘who will be champion and who will be relegated is all known in advance’. Other departing stars shared his pessimism.7 Referees who played the system profited handsomely, but they endured much discomfort. Particularly in the lower leagues, match officials were intimidated and beaten on a regular basis. One resorted to carrying a gun, which he raised in self-defence in the Serbian town of Sˇabac when local players and supporters, brandishing broken bottles, burst into his changing room after he awarded a controversial penalty.8 The press discussed football’s dire state openly. Opinion pieces issued by the state news agency, Tanjug, were scathing. Conditions allowing illegal practices to thrive had been created by the socialist system. The party needed to address the issue, not least because of the hypocrisy of senior Party members with high positions in clubs and governing bodies: There are such socio-political workers [on football club boards] for whom the relegation of their football team to a lower level of competition would be a greater failure than when a factory collapses along with the living standards of one or two thousand workers.9 In a similar fashion, And¯elko Marusˇic´ of the Hajduk-NOVJ generation used his memoir to rail against the situation: ‘relegation from the league is seen as the end of the world. It is a question of nation, politics . . . . Leaders and organisations intervene. The whole city is on its feet. It becomes a question

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of national pride and similar primitive interpretations’.10 The relationship between football and communism was called into question. For Tanjug, it was clear that in the majority of Yugoslavia’s leading clubs, organisations of the League of Socialist Youth and the League of Communists only existed on paper.11 Even partisan authors with a positive outlook on the place of communism in sport were at a loss to describe what these Party organisations contributed to club administration.12 Overzealous local Party leaders and socialist organisations were at the root of the problem: Enterprises that are managed unprofitably . . . have their own recovery programmes, but football clubs which make losses for years are not preoccupied with such measures. Overnight, a billion old dinars will be found for them, so as to bring in a new player, or pay bonuses. Apart from insiders, few know where that money originates from. Self-management is, for a large proportion of football clubs, a foreign word, because they have a blank cheque for all expenses from socio-political associations, or workers’ organisations.13 In spite of these systemic failings, innovations in socialist practice offered a solution. Top-down management, evidently failing, had to be swept aside: ‘Tito’s idea about collective leadership and the democratisation of relations should be stringently implemented in all clubs and societies. That would, to a significant degree, undermine the activities of people whose time has passed’.14 Thousands of spectators, footballers and journalists clearly saw what was happening, but lacked definitive proof. This changed when police in Maribor conducted a raid on the town’s Second League club in 1981. In the secretary’s desk, they found a meticulous record of illegal payments to referees and players, and a significant amount of cash. Bundles of dinars, Deutschmarks, Austrian shillings and other currencies were part of the ‘black reserve’. The list of referees paid for ‘services’ included household names of First League standing. These officials awarded NK Maribor twelve penalty kicks over the previous two seasons. In return, the club funded excursions to neighbouring Austria and local tourist destinations. The immediate impact of the ‘Maribor Affair’ fell hardest on the club itself: disqualified from the Second League, most of its players departed and officials faced criminal investigations. While implicated referees were initially suspended, almost all of them received an amnesty and returned to

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their duties. More broadly, irregularities uncovered at this relatively humble club hinted at the levels of corruption at Maribor’s larger Second League rivals, as well as at the giants of the First League.15 When these brazen practices came to light, they forced political figures to confront the game’s depravity. Senior Slovene communist Mitja Ribicˇic´, who held the highest offices in the Yugoslav state during a long career, spoke of the need to eradicate negative phenomena in sport, linking the issue with attempts to iron out irregularities in wider society. Condemning Maribor’s misuse of public funds, Ribicˇic´ stressed that such practices were rife across Slovenia and the rest of Yugoslavia: ‘Public acknowledgment of deviation from the agreed limits for paying sportsmen, bribery of referees and match fixing demand immediate and forceful action’. Astonishingly, he openly acknowledged that the republic’s biggest club, First League Olimpija Ljubljana, had ‘sold points’.16 Even Edvard Kardelj had been perplexed by the magnitude of the problem. After the giant of Slovene communism died in 1979, Vladimir Dedijer recalled a tongue-in-cheek exchange. An Olimpija official had been caught bribing players: Kardelj walked back and forth, saying that the Ljubljana City Committee had met, and even the Slovene Central Committee was holding meetings to eradicate this evil once and for all. I just looked at Kardelj and said: ‘Wherever do you live?! Everyone steals in our country, all football clubs, and only you Slovenes think they don’t steal’. . . . You are a law-respecting society and we down here are peasants!17 It was easier to tackle these matters in Slovenia, where football was not the most popular sport, but elsewhere senior figures with a stake in the game zealously protected their clubs. When Yugoslavia’s Social Accounting and Auditing Service (Sluzˇba drusˇtvenoga knjigovodstva, SDK) launched a thorough investigation into football’s finances in 1981, one of its senior officials concluded that ‘Yugoslavia does not have enough prisons for everyone who has squandered public money on football’.18 Nevertheless, systemic problems remained unresolved. The Yugoslav game reached its nadir in 1987, when the destiny of two First League titles was decided in a courtroom. It began at the end of the 1985– 6 season. Initially, Partizan won the title on the last day, but the authorities ruled that seven of the final round’s matches were fixed. When the FSJ demanded clubs replay the round, Partizan refused and lost the championship as a result. Moreover, twelve implicated clubs started the

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1986– 7 season with a six-point deduction. On the pitch, Partizan was the best team once again but the sanction handed the title to Vardar Skopje. The argument over the previous season continued to rage in the courts, however. Two very different league tables existed as a result, and the ruling would clarify which of them was official. Eventually, the Constitutional Court judged that the original results for the 1985 –6 season should stand and that the subsequent points deductions were invalid. In this manner, Partizan won two championships and Macedonia was deprived of its sole league title. Yet this farcical situation produced an anomaly: despite ending up in fifth position, Vardar represented Yugoslavia in the European Cup.19 This chaos prompted a rule change, as the FSJ attempted to eradicate match fixing. Under the new system, drawn matches went to a penalty shootout, with the winner taking a point and the loser leaving empty-handed.20 This format remained in place until the end, as did the irregularities blighting an insolvent game that mirrored the failing state. Communist mismanagement of clubs, including the misuse of public funds, was even discussed in the Federal Parliament.21 Like most other afflictions, the economic woes that blighted Yugoslavia and its clubs were refracted through the prism of nationalism.

Political and Football Unrest Football hooliganism was commonplace as the 1980s dawned. Commentators lamented that it was not unusual ‘for a spectator to equate the purchase of a ticket with the purchasing of a right to cause offence’.22 At least initially, the Yugoslav strain of the ‘English disease’ did not differ noticeably from cases across Europe. Groups of youths confronted one another and the police, damaged public transport and provoked moral outrage. In 1982, hundreds of Partizan youths attacked a Belgrade hotel where Hajduk players were staying, storming the lobby and stoning the team bus. Footballers sought refuge on the floor of the vehicle, as windows smashed above their heads. One player was mildly injured and two of the assailants were arrested, but the match went ahead as planned, albeit against a chorus of nationalist chanting.23 When Partizan supporters travelled to Zagreb in 1983, they covered their railway carriage with Serbian nationalist slogans before indulging in a brawl with their Dinamo counterparts in a park. Dozens were arrested and, instead of an afternoon on the terraces, they listened to the game on a transistor radio from the cell of a Zagreb police station.24 Two years later, another group of Partizan youths who refused to pay the fare to Sarajevo wrecked carriages and damaged a station.25

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Supporters sought notoriety through misdeeds. UEFA banned Hajduk from playing a European match in Split following an unsavoury incident in 1984: a fan had slaughtered a cockerel to provoke visitors Tottenham Hotspur.26 Four years later, FK Sarajevo supporters unleashed a viper in the vicinity of the bench of visiting Red Star.27 Other excesses were imbued with nationalist and anti-communist sentiment. As elsewhere in Eastern Europe, even in relatively liberal Yugoslavia the anonymity of the stadium provided an opportunity for youths to express themselves: ‘chants are heard which, if they were uttered on the street or in some other public place . . . could lead to a court appearance’.28 The politicisation of football supporting was, at least in part, provoked by the deteriorating political situation. The first serious challenge to the post-Tito status quo arose in Kosovo. By 1981, Albanians constituted 77.5 per cent of its population. Much to the dissatisfaction of Serb nationalists, for whom Kosovo was sacred, the 1974 constitution effectively elevated Serbia’s provinces to the status of republics, giving Albanians broad autonomy. Despite considerable investment by the federal authorities, Kosovo remained the poorest part of Yugoslavia. High unemployment was exacerbated by a birth rate that was substantially higher than the Yugoslav average.29 Moreover, the University of Pristina produced tens of thousands of Albanian graduates who could not find jobs. Unrest broke out in March 1981, as students demanded improved conditions and the release of political prisoners. Demonstrations marred by violence gradually swelled to encompass thousands of civilians across the province. Slogans crystallised into political demands for Kosovo to be made a republic, with demonstrators stressing: ‘We are not Yugoslavs, we are Albanian’.30 The fact that Albanians lived in regions of Serbia, Macedonia and Montenegro contiguous with neighbouring Albania fuelled fears of irredentism among the Party leadership. The crackdown was swift and heavy-handed. The province’s predominantly Albanian leadership condemned the unrest as ‘counterrevolutionary’ and declared a state of emergency at the beginning of April. JNA (Jugoslovenska narodna armija, Yugoslav People’s Army) tanks rolled onto the streets, an evening curfew was imposed and public gatherings of more than five people were banned. FK Pristina, with its city centre stadium, had its Second League match cancelled. Kosovo had two other representatives at this federal level, and the unrest also forced an interruption to their league campaigns.31 The authorities imposed strict limitations on domestic and foreign journalists, ensuring that coverage of the instability was kept to a minimum. Nevertheless, the riots surprised

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many Yugoslavs; they assumed that Albanians had achieved equal rights in 1974. In the following months, hundreds were imprisoned, teachers and university lectures were fired and the provincial Party was purged. The events of 1981 were disastrous for Yugoslavia’s Albanians and throughout the 1980s, instability in Kosovo fuelled nationalism across the entire federation.32 Many Serbs and Macedonians boycotted prevalent Albanian bakeries across their republics after the riots, but the picture was not entirely hostile. While the situation remained tense throughout the summer, Kosovo’s three Second League clubs played home matches elsewhere. Radnicˇki Kragujevac invited FK Pristina to use its facilities for the remainder of the season. Thanks to the hospitality of their Serbian hosts, the Kosovar team spent two months in the city training and playing matches there free of charge. Kosovo’s other teams found temporary homes elsewhere in Serbia. Calmer conditions enabled them to return to their own grounds for the 1981 –2 season. When Radnicˇki visited Pristina in September, they received a warm welcome from their hosts and the crowd. Kosovo’s capital subsequently bestowed an award on the Kragujevac club for the generosity and friendship extended during the troubles.33 Fierce repression of Albanian nationalism made any explicit expression of nationalist sentiment difficult. Pristina won promotion to the First League in 1983 and the club’s supporters quickly came under the media spotlight. When Pristina played Red Star in Belgrade, travelling fans chanted ‘E-ho, E-ho’ (an allusion to Albanian leader Enver Hoxha) and brandished the Albanian flag. As Belgrade newspapers railed against irredentism, the official Kosovar press criticised such portrayals of the flag, the symbol of all Albanians, regardless of where they lived.34 By the mid-1980s, political chanting was ever more commonplace, as were violent reactions to the country’s disputes. Red Star’s visit to Split in the autumn of 1985 inspired Hajduk supporters to commit nationalist excesses. Initially, youths lashed out at a bus with Serbian number plates. Then they attacked cadets from the Naval Academy, injuring two, before subsequently rounding on another group on Split’s promenade. Some of the victims were thrown into the sea. The disorder climaxed when the Belgrade train was pelted with stones and twenty windows were smashed.35 One of the participants, who served a prison sentence as a result, later recalled that it became a political issue: ‘the whole of Yugoslavia was talking about it. So much was written about it that it is unreal; politicians were talking loads of shit’.36 After explaining how the cadets – considered to be Red Star fans – were taunted, assaulted and repeatedly forced into the cold October

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waters, this perpetrator recalls being arrested, identified by the sodden victims and sentenced. He and his fellow accused had to appeal against charges for the serious offence of ‘an attack upon the Armed Forces’ of Yugoslavia: they were adamant the ‘motive was a supporting one’ (i.e. the victims were Red Star supporters who happened to be cadets). They excused their actions with reference to beatings Hajduk supporters suffered during a recent visit to Belgrade.37 Hooligan acts were interpreted through a socialist prism. Researchers studying the political behaviour of Split’s youth described ‘a thin militant stratum . . . who do not shrink from fascist actions’. Nevertheless, these ‘class enemies’ were a tiny minority.38 Among the perceived causes of hooliganism was rapid urbanisation. According to this interpretation, economic migrants descended upon the city from undeveloped regions where ‘patriarchal-rural culture and religious traditionalism are predominant’. Displaced youths swiftly embraced Hajduk as a way of identifying with their new environment. The Catholic Church also received a portion of the blame for misguiding these troubled newcomers. Alongside these unconvincing arguments, the researchers moved closer to the actual causes when they recognised that youth dissatisfaction over unemployment, deteriorating material circumstances and underrepresentation on political bodies were contributory factors. In subsequent years, their assertion that ‘precisely the youth of Split will be the greatest obstacle to the penetration of nationalism and other anti-socialist tendencies’ would prove wide of the mark.39 In Belgrade, young football supporters embraced a Serbian national identity in much the same way as their Croatian counterparts. The Kosovo unrest triggered a resurgence of Serbian nationalism that gained momentum throughout the 1980s. The province was of central importance to Serbian national identity: it was the historic ‘cradle’ of the nation and ‘a holy land of inestimable importance’.40 A year after the riots, Serbian Orthodox priests made a provocative call to end the ‘extinction’ of Kosovo’s dwindling Serb population in an open letter to their Patriarch. Then, in 1985, intellectuals rallied to the cause of these downtrodden Serbs, as the ‘Kosovo question’ became a means of challenging Yugoslavia’s constitutional framework. Previously a taboo subject, the plight of the Serbs in the southern province came to dominate the agenda of Belgrade’s intelligentsia. This ‘“battle” for Kosovo’ elevated them to the status of a de facto political opposition. They published provocative books, held events and stood alongside Kosovo Serbs who travelled to the Yugoslav capital to voice their discontent. On the streets, Belgrade’s inhabitants greeted these

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protestors, forcing the Party leadership to scale back its repression.41 Implicit in the agenda of these actors was a challenge to the 1974 constitution: Serbia needed to be recentralised. Football supporters were among the few Belgrade Serbs with direct experience of Kosovo’s realities. Rough treatment during Red Star’s visit to FK Pristina subsequently served as primary motivation for chauvinism, as supporters injected violence into the ‘Kosovo question’ on the streets of Belgrade.42 In August 1986, following an unremarkable Marshal Tito Cup match, a group of some eighty Red Star supporters gathered with the intention of fighting their bitter city rivals, Partizan fans. The latter were due at the railway station imminently, having travelled to Kragujevac.43 During the long walk to the station, the group sang nationalist songs and chanted slogans: ‘Attack the Albanians!’, ‘The Serbian trumpet can be heard from Kosovo’, and ‘We will drop, we will drop bombs on Pristina, so that the Albanians slowly die’.44 They targeted Albanian businesses, breaking the windows and equipment of shops and food outlets, and beating up proprietors. When they reached the station, their targets had already dispersed: the Kragujevac train had arrived earlier than expected. Instead, Red Star supporters gathered in front of a maternity hospital and sang more prohibited songs, while they ‘bore witness to the birth of young Serbs’.45 The much-discussed Albanian birth rate factored in their choice of location. Six adults and two adolescents were incarcerated over these incidents. A 20-year-old Branislav Zeljkovic´, who subsequently became a prominent fan leader and a paramilitary fighter, was among them.46 Convicted for the serious charge of ‘spreading national, religious and racial hatred’, Zeljkovic´ and others received a five-month prison sentence.47 The incident sent shockwaves through the city. The Socialist Alliance of Working People condemned the hooligan excesses in the strongest terms. Belgrade had witnessed ‘vandalistic, nationalist, pro-cˇetnik behaviour, which has nothing in common with sport’: by its character and objectives the incident exceeded the usual supporters’ squabbles and skirmishes and as such it deserves the special attention of all organised socialist forces. In that sense, the first of the proposed measures for stamping out similar behaviour in future is the joint, planned attack of all political, self-managing and appropriate state organs.48 Red Star distanced itself from the ‘hooligans’, announcing it would take steps to exclude them from official supporting organisations.

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A month later, nationalism and the ‘Kosovo question’ burst into public discourse again. The Belgrade daily Vecˇernje novosti leaked extracts of the Serbian Academy of Arts and Sciences’ draft Memorandum. In this explosive document, some of the republic’s leading intellectuals set forth their grievances with socialist Yugoslavia. Harnessing extreme language, its authors depicted a country in which Serbs were discriminated against. The 1974 constitution deprived them of their own state by dividing Serbia into three parts. This political settlement enabled Albanians to commit ‘genocide’ against Serbs living in Kosovo. Serbs in Yugoslavia’s other republics, including Croatia, did not fare much better. According to the Memorandum, a Slovene – Croat coalition was responsible for the dire state of affairs and the only solution was to revisit the constitutional arrangements to ensure an integrative federalism. The League of Communists strongly condemned the document, but its authors went unpunished.49 For Slobodan Milosˇevic´, a rising star of the Serbian Party, the Memorandum’s programme presented an opportunity. During a 1987 visit to Kosovo, this unremarkable bureaucrat became an instant hero for beleaguered Serbs, who had staged an incident so as to depict Kosovar police as violently repressive. Television cameras captured Milosˇevic´’s low-key response and amplified it in the following days: ‘No one should be allowed to beat you!’ Over the next four years, he moved closer to the Memorandum’s authors and embraced much of its content. Serbian nationalism – and discontent over Kosovo in particular – enabled Milosˇevic´ to obtain and consolidate power. In harnessing the Kosovo Serb cause, he found a wellorganised mass movement at his disposal. In combination with a loyal media machine, he was able to defeat his opponents in the Serbian League of Communists and set about the task of revising the constitution. Milosˇevic´ needed loyal leaderships in the autonomous provinces to recentralise power in Serbia. Through mass demonstrations and the promise to tackle the state’s over-bloated and corrupt bureaucracy, he launched an ‘anti-bureaucratic revolution’. Progress was rapid. In October 1988, a volatile crowd forced the resignation of the Vojvodina provincial leadership. Milosˇevic´ installed his own supporters in their place. In the subsequent purges of corrupt ‘autonomists’, the functionaries of FK Vojvodina – on the verge of winning the Yugoslav title – did not escape.50 Kosovo and Montenegro fell in quick succession shortly afterwards. At a ‘Meeting of All Meetings’, held in Belgrade in winter 1988, hundreds of thousands gathered to hear Milosˇevic´ speak. The unlikely populist emerged as an idol for many Serbs. His portrait replaced Tito’s in shop windows across the republic.51

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In March 1989, a revised Serbian constitution abrogated the autonomy of Vojvodina and Kosovo, sparking deadly protests on the streets of Pristina.52 Belgrade’s sporting press worked hard to engineer a direct link between ‘separatism and football’ in the southern province, where non-Albanian players were abandoning FK Pristina in a steady stream. The speculation was such that the club’s director had to confirm that not a single player or administrator had been apprehended for participating in demonstrations. Nevertheless, Tempo pointed squarely at the club for allowing its stadium to be ‘converted into a political platform against’ the state: it is known with certainty who . . . opened the gates to demonstrators in the November support for [Kosovo Party leaders] Kaqusha Jashari and Azem Vllasi! On the fourth day of the open rebellion of Albanian nationalists and separatists against the constitutional changes in the Socialist Republic of Serbia in November 1988, over 50,000 demonstrators gathered for hours at the FK Pristina stadium (a record crowd) to shout the slogan ‘We will not give up the ’74 constitution’. As is known, Azem Vllasi and Kaqusha Jashari went onto the pitch to speak to the gathered students, teens and workers.53 In light of the constitutional changes and ensuing purges, FK Pristina’s supporters boycotted the opening match of spring 1989. Croatian journalists subsequently drew attention to the dire state of affairs at the club, describing Serbian military helicopters parked on the pitch: ‘All that remains of Kosovar sport are ruins. National segregation permeated the entire society, including sport’.54 Emotional interviews with Dinamo Zagreb’s Kosovar Albanian star Kujtim Shala presented Croatian writers with another opportunity to highlight Serb repression.55 A resurgent Serbia horrified political leaders in Yugoslavia’s other republics. Milosˇevic´’s programme destabilised a fragile balance and galvanised alternative visions for the state. For Milan Kucˇan, the head of the Slovene Party, it was the end of Yugoslavia: ‘By abolishing the autonomy of both provinces . . . Serbia would directly control three-out-of-eight votes in the Federal Presidency – in comparison with the other republics that had one vote each. That meant turning Yugoslavia into Serbo-slavia’. It was actually worse: a loyal Montenegro gave Milosˇevic´ half of the votes and a veto over all decisions at the federal level. Moreover, Serbs constituted 36.3 per cent of the Yugoslav population in 1981 – as many as the Croats, Bosnian Muslims and Slovenes combined. Any departure from the carefully

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constructed ethnic balance in politics was bound to unsettle other nations. As Serbia attempted to implement a degree of recentralisation, politicians in the north-western republics pressed for more sovereignty and even the reconstitution of Yugoslavia on a loose confederal basis. They also opened the door to non-communist parties. Political life at the federal level was paralysed.

Supporters’ Groups Emerge Like so many of those attracted to new supporting styles in the second half of the 1980s, brothers Nebojsˇa and Ognjen were schoolboys. Inspired by foreign trends, Novi Sad youths formed their own group to coordinate and increase activities at the stadium: We had a meeting and talked about the name of the group, and we wanted to give it a hard name – like the West Ham supporters – ICF, the Inter City Firm. . . . We wanted to be different from them, so we gave our group the name Red Firm, because of the red colour of our shirts.56 Like dozens of similar organisations across Yugoslavia, Red Firm quickly made a name for itself. Members stitched a banner for the front of the terrace and made scarves and flags. They coordinated chanting, smuggled in flares and organised transport for away matches. The group was an autonomous actor, travelling across Yugoslavia amid a deteriorating political situation. Confrontations with other fans were an important part of its remit. In one sense, this blossoming fan culture, so heavily influenced by Western European trends, was nothing new. Decades earlier, Split’s Torcida took inspiration from another continent. While the Party moved quickly to ban this potentially subversive organisation, the way that its members coalesced and behaved set an important domestic precedent for the 1980s renaissance.57 Inspired by Brazilian torcida at the 1950 World Cup, students derived their knowledge of South American supporting styles from press coverage. Reports described scenes that might easily be mistaken as descriptions of Yugoslav terraces in the 1980s: The atmosphere was really exotic in every respect. The shooting was simply unbearable. There was firing constantly, for the duration of play, of rockets, smoke-bombs, firecrackers and many other similar objects which roar louder than cannons! At the same time the air

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Figure 19 Red Firm in 1989, beside Novi Sad’s wartime clubhouse. Courtsey of Miroslav, Red Firm. hissed with shouting and uproar. The noise was such that it was impossible to hold a conversation even in the closest proximity.58 Importing such behaviour was intolerable in 1950, but in the more liberal post-Tito years, the authorities allowed foreign styles to flourish and evolve in a creole manner. Again, the media played a crucial role in disseminating news of foreign practices. Supertifo, an Italian magazine dedicated to supporting culture, was read across Yugoslavia. Correspondence from Belgrade, Split, Rijeka and Zagreb appeared on its pages.59 Domestic magazines also produced regular features on foreign fans, complete with glossy photographs of stadium choreography.60 European matches involving Yugoslav clubs were an additional means of exposure to alternative styles, whether witnessed directly from the terraces, or via television coverage. English and Italian supporters influenced the entire continent. The culture shared much in common with punk, in that it was international, youth-centred and predominantly urban. Supporters in Yugoslavia’s larger cities adopted an eclectic range of activities and props. From the English came scarves, flags and a culture of heavy drinking and fighting with opposing groups, while from the Italian tifosi came elements of the ‘southern’ style, including stadium choreography, flares and imposing banners. Other scenes also provided inspiration, as fans borrowed from rock and punk, embracing fashion, graffiti and experimentation with drugs.61

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The most obvious forms of imitation were the adoption of names written in foreign languages and the ubiquitous display of the Union Jack. The ‘English’ flag, embraced across Europe, represented the place of the English at the top of the supporting hierarchy, and was an expression of supporter solidarity.62 Like Red Firm, many groups embraced the English language. Velezˇ’s Red Army, formed in 1986, incorporated several subgroups with English names of their own.63 Elsewhere, youths congregated as the Green Dragons (Olimpija Ljubljana), The Maniacs (Zˇeljeznicˇar Sarajevo), and the Blue Marines (Spartak Subotica). The ‘Big Four’ supporters’ groups also assumed their modern form during the 1980s. Hajduk fans revived the Torcida name, while Partizan supporters embraced the Grobari (Gravediggers) moniker that had previously been used as an insult by their city rivals due to the club’s black and white colours.64 Dinamo fans founded the Bad Blue Boys in Zagreb in 1986, while their Red Star counterparts merged numerous smaller groups to establish the Delije (Heroes) in 1989.65 Elsewhere, 1987 was particularly notable for group formation (Table 3). As the domestic scene matured, some strove to distance themselves from foreign role models. In 1990, Delije members explained that although English supporters and their style of behaviour had been attractive, ‘today the English couldn’t pass through anywhere in Yugoslavia without a heavy beating’.66 Discussing the spread of hooliganism, Ramo´n Spaaij notes that imported techniques are modified to suit new environments, undergoing a form of ‘creolization’ in which ‘local historical and cultural traditions and legacies continue to exert a strong influence over patterns of behaviour’.67 This is evident in Yugoslavia, where supporting swiftly attained distinctive features, which differed according to regional trends and preferences. The ‘Big Four’ had a strong influence upon dozens of smaller organisations. Indeed, the Indians supporters’ group from Zrenjanin was originally established as a local gathering of Red Star fans before mutating into a group for the town’s own club, FK Proleter (Proletarian).68 Some groups explicitly avoided foreign names and banners. FK Sarajevo’s Horde zla (Hordes of Evil) insisted upon a domestic name: ‘It sounds better!’69 Members stressed that blind imitation of foreign counterparts had its limits: fuck that constant copying regardless of who is in question. It’s time to liberate ourselves from some commotion to be like the English; it’s worth being ‘like Yugoslavs’. Why couldn’t we be the best in something? Not in everything, but at least in something.70

Table 3

Principal Supporters’ Groups and Foundation Years.

Groups of clubs that spent at least one season in the First League between 1985 and 1991. Earlier incarnations and subgroups are not provided.71

Club

Supporters’ Group

Foundation Year

Borac Banja Luka Velezˇ Mostar FK Sarajevo

Lesˇinari (Vultures) Red Army Horde Zla (Hordes of Evil) Fukare (Scoundrels) The Maniacs Kohorta (Cohort) Armada Torcida Bad Blue Boys Cˇkembari (Tripe Eaters) Komiti (Komitadji) Vojvode (Dukes) Varvari (Barbarians) Blue Thunders Sokolovi (Hawks) Grobari (Gravediggers) United Force Delije (Heroes) Meraklije (Those who enjoy life) Taurunum (Roman settlement at Zemun) Blue Marines Indians Red Firm Green Dragons Robijasˇi (Convicts) Plisat (Traditional Albanian hat) Ultras Jakuze (Yakuza – Japanese Mafia)

1987 1986 1987

Sloboda Tuzla Zˇeljeznicˇar Sarajevo NK Osijek NK Rijeka Hajduk Split Dinamo Zagreb Pelister Bitola Vardar Skopje Sutjeska Niksˇic´ Buduc´nost Titograd OFK Belgrade Partizan Belgrade Rad Belgrade Red Star Belgrade Radnicˇki Nisˇ FK Zemun Spartak Subotica Proleter Zrenjanin FK Vojvodina Olimpija Ljubljana Cˇelik Zenica FK Prisˇtina/KF Prishtina Dinamo/Cibalia Vinkovci Napredak Krusˇevac

1988 1987 1988 1987 (1950) 1980 1986 1985 1987 1988 1987 1984 –90 1990 –3 (1970) 1990 1987 1989 1989 1987 1989 1989 1989 1988 1988 1987 1992 1988

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At the end of the 1980s, despite a long tradition of embracing foreign influences, Torcida moved to homogenise its activity, agreeing that henceforth banners would be written exclusively in Croatian. This was done for a number of reasons: to counter the idea of English superiority (as one member put it: ‘Let the English write banners in the Croatian language!’); to demonstrate the group’s independence of foreign influence; to publicise national consciousness; and to emphasise Torcida’s ‘separateness in relation to groups that write banners in foreign languages’.72 However, this ‘“balkanisation” of content’ did not necessarily imply an abandonment of foreign models, or burgeoning nationalism. Rather, it showed the ‘growing consciousness of one’s own specific qualities’.73 As the number and size of groups grew exponentially, this distinct and potentially subversive youth culture attracted the attention of sociologists. They produced detailed studies on hooliganism and the activities of organised supporters, partially in pursuit of a solution to escalating terrace violence.74 These researchers followed in the footsteps of their subjects by borrowing extensively from research into comparable developments in Western Europe. They benefited from the fact that analogous trends and associated violence had already existed abroad for some years and constituted an equally pressing topic for their foreign counterparts.75 The resultant studies analysed police reports, interviews and extensive observations. Taken together, this body of work provided a detailed picture of evolving supporting practices in Zagreb, Belgrade and Split.76 Instances of ‘mass behaviour’ in Belgrade’s stadiums increased from 26 per cent of recorded conduct in 1987 to become the dominant variety by 1990.77 In Zagreb, there was a comparable rise in the number of arrests for violence and excesses at sporting events, as hooliganism increased ‘quantitatively and qualitatively’ between 1985 and 1987. Moreover, the number of repeat offenders rose year on year (9 per cent, 24 per cent and 36 per cent of those arrested).78 It is difficult to establish the size of these informal organisations with any accuracy. Supporters’ groups only constituted part of the overall crowd, sharing the stadium with casual spectators. Drazˇen Lalic´’s three-year immersive study of Torcida (1989 – 91) provides a sense of the group’s dimensions. He describes a core of 2,000 – 3,000 who regularly attended home and away games, a number that increased to 8,000–10,000 when encompassing those who expressed collective identification and participation in rituals at important games. More concretely, Torcida’s presence ranged from just 150 (in an overall crowd of 8,000) to 10,000 (in a crowd of 50,000), with an average of 1,507 at home and 1,300 at away games.79 A less comprehensive study of the Bad Blue Boys estimated that in addition to a core

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of fifty ‘leaders’, the group consisted of 600–2,000 active participants.80 Those beyond the ‘Big Four’ were significantly smaller in size. While the leadership tended to be older, the average group member was eighteen, male and either in education or employment.81 The vast majority – 92.6 per cent in the case of Torcida – lived with their parents. These young supporters were far more diverse in terms of social background, however, hailing from all strata of society.82 Educationally, young fans from Belgrade were below average, with only ‘punks’ faring worse.83 Moreover, a fifth of Torcida were unemployed and endured a low standard of living. Some of them admitted funding supporting activities through theft and drug dealing.84 The unemployed constituted 46 per cent of those arrested for disorder at sporting events in Zagreb between 1985 and 1987.85 While supporters’ groups were overwhelmingly male, small numbers of female fans were usually present.86 Contemporary sports magazines and their supporters’ forums drew attention to them, as well as to the existence of designated female subgroups. They included Partizan’s Commando Girls, Killers Girls of Sloboda Tuzla and the Bum Bum Girls of Buduc´nost Titograd. A marginal presence on the terraces, female fans encountered hostility from their male counterparts and were sometimes simply dismissed as ‘prostitutes’. The question of whether women should participate in hostile stadium environments and sporadic violence provoked chauvinist responses in supporters’ forums.87 As groups became more sophisticated, they increasingly occupied centre stage, constituting a bigger draw for many youths than the football itself.88 Given the dire state of the game and the endemic match fixing which blighted these years, this is hardly surprising. A founding member of Torcida explained that 1985 was seminal for the group, as it ‘became something really important, even more important than Hajduk’.89 Supporters ceased to be passive observers and embraced an autonomous role as creators of spectacle in their own right. Simultaneously, the ‘“acute” and occasional’ disorder of earlier decades became ‘“chronic” and continuous’.90

Nationalism Victorious The emergence of large autonomous groups in Yugoslav stadiums changed the nature of football rivalries. As youths grappled with the economic crisis and rising unemployment, their frustrations found an outlet on the terraces. In parallel with the First League, distinct enmities matured between the groups themselves. Matches were ‘an optimal opportunity for the expression

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of deep political animosities’, as some supporters viewed opponents not ‘as sporting rivals, but as members of enemy national and political groups’.91 It was Yugoslavia’s misfortune that the resurgence of nationalism corresponded with the development of a volatile supporting culture. The First League’s structure, with representative clubs from most parts of the country, was perfectly suited for the evolution of pre-existing club rivalries into fierce divisions along national lines. Sociologists voiced concern over the potential dangers of nationalist crowd behaviour long before Milosˇevic´’s provocative constitutional amendments.92 Then, a drastic increase in nationalist content occurred concurrently with the anti-bureaucratic revolution: From the mid-1980s, the supporters’ folklore in Serbia (songs, slogans, placards, flags, coats of arms, etc.), was dominated by the theme of ethnic identity, until then sporadic and proscribed. And at the same time that theme began to appear in political communication and propaganda, especially at the populist mass political rallies which gave the tone to political life in Serbia and Montenegro in the course of 1988 and 1989.93 Yugoslavia’s multi-ethnic composition was key to the evolution of a specific Yugoslav variety of fan rivalry, with ‘a national component’.94 This was in keeping with hooliganism in other parts of Europe; it was a phenomenon ‘contoured and fuelled . . . by what one might call the major “fault-lines” of particular countries’.95 In the post-Tito years, engineered divisions between the constituent nations and nationalities – themselves based upon binary divisions of religion, language and history – emerged as the most prominent ‘fault-lines’ replicated in stadiums. For young Croat and Serb fans, whose nations were traditionally divided by history and religious confession, club loyalty became an additional element of difference. Initially, nationalism was little more than a tool in the arsenal of fan provocation. Through verbal abuse of their rivals’ nations and political leaders, supporters capitalised on the tense political situation. As one fan put it: ‘How will you insult these others differently?’96 Torcida were willing to do anything to provoke rivals. On occasion, their opponents harnessed humour in retaliation. When the Split group chanted ‘We are Croats’ during a match against Red Star, the Delije response was cutting: ‘Why complain to us?’97 Even rivals with a common national identity used ironic ethnic and political slurs to provoke one another. Evoking stereotypes of the Croatian port city of Rijeka as pro-communist, the Bad Blue Boys insulted

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their hosts with chants of: ‘Reds, Reds, Rijeka is Serbian’. In response, the Rijeka supporters, from a terrace decked out with Croatian national flags, sang odes to Marshal Tito and theatrical chants of ‘Serbia, Serbia!’98 By the end of the decade, nationalism was rampant in stadiums. Admittedly, sport-related arrests for insults on a ‘socialist, patriotic or national basis’ fell in Zagreb between 1985 and 1987. This was likely the result, however, of changing attitudes to nationalist chanting on the part of law enforcement, rather than a reduction in such behaviour. The apparent decline is juxtaposed with a concurrent drastic rise in the number of arrests for the possession of weapons. Moreover, 48 per cent of football arrests occurred in the context of fixtures between Dinamo and Serbian rivals Red Star. The next highest percentage concerned Partizan’s visits.99 In Belgrade and Split, nationalist outbursts increased drastically. In 1990, national flags overtook those of Hajduk to become the majority on Torcida’s terrace. Over the three years of Lalic´’s study, a quarter of all registered songs and chants were of a political or nationalist nature.100 Large vocal groups of supporters were a potentially valuable resource for organised politics. Sociologists warned that these youths could fall victim to outside influences, noting that their symbolic use of national themes was ‘a worthy foundation for the immediate manipulation of nationalism’.101 Emerging opposition movements, especially those with extreme nationalist programmes, courted them from the outset. Many Red Star supporters initially embraced the expansionist politics of Vuk Drasˇkovic´’s Serbian Renewal Movement (Srpski pokret obnove, SPO) and Vojislav Sˇesˇelj’s self-proclaimed Cˇetniks. Leading members of supporters’ groups worked for these organisations and travelled to their rallies. In Ravna Gora and elsewhere, they participated in the glorification of the World War II Cˇetnik movement and its leader Drazˇa Mihailovic´.102 Drasˇkovic´’s party actively engaged with supporters. Before a high-risk Hajduk visit, Drasˇkovic´ posted fliers on walls in the vicinity of Belgrade’s stadiums. They implored Red Star fans not to ape the violence of their Croatian counterparts and to portray their nation in a positive light. As a result, he appealed to them ‘not to answer the waves of anti-Serbian madness which are flooding Croatia’: Serbs have never thrashed those who come to their home, nor have they waged war on sports pitches. The battlefield exists for military reckonings, on which Serbs have always been and will be – Delije [heroes]. . . . You must be Delije in both victory and defeat. The honour of Belgrade, our capital, must always be preserved.103

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Drasˇkovic´’s expansionist politics undoubtedly appealed. Many groups voiced their support, including Proleter Zrenjanin’s Indians. The group declared themselves Serbian nationalists who sympathised with anticommunist parties. They made a flag bearing the name of the Serbian Renewal Movement and created an image juxtaposing their stadium choreography with the emblem of Drasˇkovic´’s party.104 As a member of the communist establishment, it took time for Milosˇevic´ to win over football supporters. His actions in the political sphere and the mass rallies that accompanied them went some way to achieving this, but he also used the sporting press to attract new adherents. As a product of the loyal Politika publishing house, the sports weekly Tempo was favourable to his political projects and critical of those of his opponents. With the anti-bureaucratic revolution in full flow, in January 1989, Tempo carried an exclusive with Yugoslav footballer-of-theyear Dragan Stojkovic´. The title is evocative enough: ‘I support Slobodan Milosˇevic´!’ But, just to make sure, Stojkovic´’s positive opinion is picked out in large font: This is a man the nation trusts. And, I think there is no greater thing or bigger quality in politics than that: That the nation trusts you without limit. Today in Yugoslavia there is not a politician with such a reputation among the nation. Apart from that, Milosˇevic´ doesn’t have a holiday home, or a villa; he is completely pure morally, which the nation knows and appreciates. He is not fighting for himself, but for the nation – for us all to live a better life. If only we had more of such people in politics. We would emerge from the crisis far easier, solve the problems over Kosovo, and the nation would be more satisfied105 Stojkovic´ subsequently expressed his shock at the reaction of supporters in other republics to this ringing endorsement. Like many athletes, he selectively invoked the rhetoric that sport and politics should not mix: It is better that I do not tell you everything I experienced after this in some of our stadiums. But I am such a man: if you ask me now what I think about that, about the politics of the leading people from the Socialist Republic of Serbia, I would honestly tell you. Because football is one thing and politics is something else. Supporters should also separate this in their heads.106

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Other players gushed about Milosˇevic´ in Tempo, including Buduc´nost Titograd’s Branislav Ðukanovic´. A ‘model sportsman’, Ðukanovic´ left his football obligations to attend Milosˇevic´’s ‘Mother of All Rallies’ in November 1988. He blamed the leader of the Croatian League of Communists, Stipe Sˇuvar, for poisoning young football supporters.107 By contrast, when the Belgrade press questioned Croatian players on nationalist behaviour, they appeared to criticise their own supporters. Dinamo’s Zvonimir Boban suggested that the most extreme needed to be reeducated: ‘what good will slogans of “We are Croats” do, when Serbs, Muslims, Albanians . . . also play in our team?’108 The degree of consistency in the way that these issues were discussed underlines the extent to which Tempo skewed the narrative in a pro-Milosˇevic´ direction. Franjo Tud¯man would employ similar tactics in the Croatian press after he came to power on a nationalist platform in Croatia’s democratic election in spring 1990. Official club magazines also fell into line on a national basis.109 The names of republic-level communist leaders rang out in stadiums across Yugoslavia at the end of the 1980s. In Belgrade, the Delije and Grobari increasingly chanted for Milosˇevic´. In the short-term absence of a comparable figure on the Croatian political scene, Dinamo’s BBB responded with odes to Stipe Sˇuvar. Their motivations were clear: Listen, if you ask an honest Croat, none of us particularly value that Sˇuvar, especially we youths. He fucked up our schooling, job, survival, future . . . So why would you chant for him? But . . . you use the slogan ‘Slobo[dan Milosˇevic´], freedom’, so how could I respond other than by chanting his name? A pure riposte is in question, and therefore today you get that ostensibly proud cry of ‘Stipe Sˇ uvar’ or ‘Stipe, freedom!’ . . . until a distinct Croatian personality emerges from the crowd, we will cheer ‘Sˇuvar, Sˇuvar!’110 All of the ‘Big Four’ groups insulted politicians from other republics. There were close parallels between offensive football chants and music from Serbia’s folk genre during Milosˇevic´’s political ascent. Eric Gordy divides the lyrics of folk songs into three categories: ‘insults directed toward political leaders on the opposing sides, threats, often of sexualized violence, towards the same, and claims about the historical ownership of particular areas of land’. All of these characteristics were present in stadiums.111 Songs honouring contemporary politicians were sung alongside those resurrecting controversial historical figures. The vast majority of Torcida members

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approved of slogans alluding to Croatia’s dark Ustasˇa history, including odes to Ante Pavelic´. Again, such outbursts intended the maximum possible offence, though adherents of extreme-right politics were undoubtedly present on the terraces. Nevertheless, Torcida never had a homogenous political outlook, other than a collective anti-communism and Croatian nationalism.112 The BBB sang odes to a Croatian martyr of the interwar years: ‘Oh Dinamo, I will die for you, like Stjepan Radic´ did for the Croats’.113 The sporting press amplified this behaviour by publishing slogans and chants, so that even infrequent visitors to the country’s stadiums were aware of their provocative content. A surge of interest in fan culture prompted publications to allocate space to it regularly. Tempo began with a series of features in 1989 before launching a weekly section dedicated to readers’ contributions on the topic. Tribina navijacˇa (TN, Supporters’ Terrace) often extended to several pages and published readers’ letters, photographs, cartoons and chants.114 A comparable though less consistent section featured in Zagreb’s Sportske novosti’s weekly magazine.115 By April 1990, Yugoslavia boasted its own publication exclusively dedicated to fan culture. Closely modelled upon its Italian forebear, the Belgrade magazine C´ao tifo contained numerous colour photographs, extensive articles on specific groups and readers’ letters. It discussed heavy drinking and drug use, criminality, fighting and political violence. Editorial interference notwithstanding, these forums provided supporters with an opportunity to publicise their activities and express opinions. One of C´ao tifo’s primary objectives was to provide a voice for youths who were much maligned in wider society. Although criticised by some readers for devoting too much space to Serbian groups, at least initially the magazine depicted a wide range of political and nationalist sentiments. Each group was given the opportunity to express its collective political orientations, insofar as they existed, while readers’ letters frequently aired alternative viewpoints. These forums aggravated intergroup relations. Diametrically opposed opinions, nationalist stances and even direct threats could be found on their pages.116 In October 1989, Tempo published a collective letter from JNA soldiers ‘of all nations and nationalities’ that requested the magazine either cease publication of TN, or ‘introduce something that would bring supporters together’. The offending column consisted of ‘trading shots which create hatred among supporters’, who subsequently cannot wait to go to stadiums and ‘demonstrate who they are and what they are’.117 In response, the forum’s editor stated:

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Dear comrade– soldiers, Thank you for thinking that Tempo (and its ‘TN’) is so influential for the supporters of Yugoslav clubs. Unfortunately, we set ‘TN’ in motion precisely because of that about which you are writing, so that supporters of ALL clubs could write about themselves and others. . . . ‘TN’ is not the creator of incidents on our terraces; rather they were the reason for starting ‘TN’, and consequently the complete opposite of that which you are blaming us for. Of course, everyone has the right to state their opinion; therefore we are also allowing other readers (supporters) to judge us, and your initiative on the abolition of ‘Tribina navijacˇa’.118 The inaugural issue of C´ao tifo made a careful defence of Yugoslavia’s supporters’ groups, highlighting the irony of sweeping condemnations from politicians, journalists, social workers and others. It was ludicrous that supporters were blamed for spreading nationalism, given the overarching political climate in Yugoslavia’s divided society. While frequent outbursts of hatred served as evidence for those claiming stadiums were ‘bastions of nationalist euphoria and paranoia’, supporters were least responsible for politics’ infiltration of sport. Sport was ‘little more than a transformed copy of the situation in society . . . it does not leap out hardly at all from the total societal monograph’. C´ao tifo suspected that evidence would soon emerge that supporter behaviour was ‘commissioned’ by political actors: the architects of ‘supporters’ occurrences’ should be looked for deep below the terraces, because it is absolutely certain that supporters are just one of the suitable media for the realisation of some other people’s (non-supporting) aspirations. Adolescent ‘nationalists’ are only there to sing songs and music – the melodies of which were composed far from the stadium – not suspecting that, with skilfully stage-managed situations, they are being brought into a position where they are literally extorted and, by somebody else’s script, they consider the staged actions to be their own and take pride in them.119 Such analysis is remarkable given that the publication was designed for an audience of young supporters. Fans who contributed to the first issue came to the virtually unanimous conclusion that divisive nationalist behaviour

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was rooted in the deteriorating political situation: ‘For a long time this has been neither supporting madness, nor supporting subculture! It is the “music” of the Yugoslav moment’.120 Politics heavily influenced this music, suffusing it with a tempo that ebbed and flowed with the political situation. By the end of the 1980s, many supporters saw the dividing lines between certain clubs as hard ethnic borders, resulting in a homogenisation of fan bases. From their earliest years, the ‘Big Four’ enjoyed support from beyond the borders of their respective republics. At least initially, support for one of these clubs did not necessarily denote an accompanying sense of ethnic belonging. Nevertheless, for those who did not live in ‘their’ national republic, national identity often motivated the decision to support a particular club. In parts of Croatia and Bosnia & Hercegovina with sizable Serb populations, Red Star and Partizan supporters could be found in large numbers.121 The same was true of Hajduk and Dinamo in parts of Bosnia & Hercegovina with significant numbers of Croat inhabitants. These ethnic pockets of supporters underline the often interconnected relationship between football supporting and national identity. Comments from Croatian fans about their Red Star rivals illustrate the extent to which ethnicity and club loyalty could be interchangeable. Torcida members explained how easy it was to identify visiting Red Star supporters in Split: we would see them by their clothes and shoes, because predominantly they did not come from Belgrade, but from Knin and Bosnia. . . . they dressed like shepherds, understand? I could recognise such types were Red Star fans from an aeroplane. And you immediately know that they are not from Split, you identify them, surround them, and then beat them.122 Perceptions that rivals stood out because they originated from rural, Serbpopulated areas helped to define them as physically different, or ‘other’. When Bad Blue Boys members were asked whether it was more important that their rivals were Red Star and Partizan supporters or that they were Serbs, the response was enlightening: Well, it is connected . . . . It could not happen, at least I don’t know how it could happen, that someone from Serbia supported Dinamo. (Everyone laughs) Or if they are at least by origin . . . if one originates from Serbia then one is a supporter of Red Star or Partizan . . . . Look at

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those from [the Serb majority town of] Knin who are Red Star supporters, they originate from there, and that is how it is.123 The interviewees were reminded that Serbs from Knin did not ‘originate’ from the Socialist Republic of Serbia but were natives of Dalmatia, but this did little to alter perceptions. Croatia’s Serbian community featured in the nationalist songs of the leading Croatian groups: ‘He who is a Croat does not drink wine; he drinks the blood of Serbs from Knin!’124 Although both BBB and Torcida had subsidiary groups elsewhere in Yugoslavia, the core organisations in Zagreb and Split were virtually ethnically homogenous by the 1990s.125 Not only Serbs and Croats viewed their allegiance to particular clubs as an expression of ethnic belonging. The perception that clubs and their supporters’ groups had developed into extensions of national identity could result in a loss of support from those who did not share this perspective. It was not unusual for Kosovar Albanians or Bosnian Muslims to support the leading Belgrade clubs well into the 1980s.126 This began to change with the evolution of fan culture. Members of a group called Torcida Novi Pazar – Novi Pazar is a town in Serbia’s Sandzˇak region with a large Muslim population – wrote to C´ao tifo to declare their support for distant Hajduk: Novi Pazar is a city of football and supporters . . ., alongside supporters of Hajduk, there are also supporters of Zˇeljo, Sarajevo, Dinamo, Osijek. This political situation and the songs that the Delije and Grobari sing have contributed to the fact that there are no longer any real Delije and Grobari of Muslim nationality. That is lamentable, but it is illustrative of the situation in the country.127 Nationally offensive chanting on the part of the Belgrade groups thus resulted in the loss of members who did not consider themselves Serbian. Nationalist discontent emanating from Serbia’s academic institutions, political figures and football supporters accelerated a national reawakening in Slovenia. Throughout the 1980s, Yugoslavia’s richest and most ethnically homogeneous republic was one of the most liberal environments in the socialist world. The Slovene League of Communists permitted a wide range of alternative groups and the republic’s youth culture indulged in provocative mocking of Yugoslavia’s socialist underpinnings. Slovene culture and industry thrived after 1974 and, on the whole, the decentralised constitution worked well for the republic. In 1984, Slovenia’s GDP was seven times higher than that of Kosovo.128 Nevertheless, many Slovenes felt

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exploited due to their disproportionate contribution to the federal budget and the perceived second-class status of the Slovene language. While Serbian intellectuals pressed for recentralisation to solve the ‘Kosovo question’ and safeguard Serbs, their Slovene counterparts pulled in the opposite direction. In 1987, intellectuals published Contributions for a Slovenian National Programme. Like the Serbian Memorandum, the document aired nationalist aspirations. Among other things, the JNA presence in the republic was depicted as ‘a military occupation by a nationally foreign army’. Yet, unlike its equally explosive Serbian counterpart, Contributions did not claim to offer solutions for Yugoslavia. Author stances ranged from open calls for secession to visions of a substantially reformed confederate state.129 The irreconcilable Serbian and Slovene programmes came to dominate Yugoslav politics. Conflict between Slovenes and Serbs crystallised around freedom of speech and repression in Kosovo. In spring 1988, a public battle erupted between the JNA and Slovenia’s liberal youth. Mladina, the magazine of the republic’s League of Communist Youth, attacked the army as ‘an undemocratic institution always ready to stage a military coup’. It ran articles on the luxurious lifestyles of JNA generals. As accusations mounted, senior JNA figures grew concerned at Slovenia’s trajectory. They accused the Slovene Party leadership of standing behind the smear campaign. The army placed Mladina journalists on trial and, not least because they were found with classified documents, they received custodial sentences. However, the republic’s communist leadership backed the accused and the whole affair united Slovenia against the JNA and the federal government. The convicts served their sentences in relaxed conditions in an open prison.130 Within a year, they were trying to provoke Serbs from the Bezˇigrad Stadium pitch. In spring 1989, the Mladina celebrities organised a match between journalists and musicians as a warm up for Olimpija’s First League game against Red Star. They planned for players to walk out with letters on their shirts spelling ‘Kosovo – my country’, as well as a picture of imprisoned Albanian leader Azem Vllasi. Olimpija’s president prevented this stunt.131 Slovenes rallied to the cause of Kosovar Albanians in other ways. When a human rights organisation organised a rally in Ljubljana in support of striking Albanian miners in February 1989, the entire Slovene Party leadership attended. At the televised rally, criticism rained down on Serb behaviour, sparking outrage in Serbia. In response, thousands gathered in front of the federal parliament demanding Milosˇevic´ address them. A tense environment, exacerbated by the Ljubljana rally, enabled the Serb leadership to impose a state of emergency in Kosovo, arrest Vllasi and force through its

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constitutional amendments.132 When the Slovenes attempted to pass amendments of their own later in the year, they were fiercely resisted in Belgrade. The Slovene measures effectively made Yugoslavia an asymmetrical federation by devolving substantial additional powers to the republic. Although independence was not the goal, they underlined Slovenia’s right to secede. The republic’s parliament declared Slovenia a sovereign state in September 1989, amid ominous threats that the JNA would intervene to protect Yugoslavia’s integrity. The Slovene Party soon went further, issuing a programme that approved of political pluralism and envisaged multiparty elections. Against this backdrop, Milosˇevic´’s Kosovo Serb demonstrators announced plans to hold a mass rally in Ljubljana to inform Slovenes of ‘the truth about Kosovo’. The restless republic’s leadership immediately interpreted the planned gathering as a means of destabilising Slovenia.133 Potentially, that would enable the Yugoslav presidency to proclaim a state of emergency, restore order and rein in the wayward Slovene Party. Shortly before the scheduled ‘Meeting of Truth’, another group of Serb nationalists journeyed to Ljubljana, as Olimpija hosted Red Star at the Bezˇigrad. One hundred and fifty Delije arrived by train early in the morning and were placed under heavy police surveillance. It was no ordinary match, not least because contingents of Bad Blue Boys and Armada, who travelled from Zagreb and Rijeka for the showdown, bolstered Olimpija’s Green Dragons supporters’ group. Mladina revelled in the symbolism of the occasion, describing the Delije’s visit as a successful ‘rehearsal for the coming meeting’. Beneath the Serbian phrase ‘Come and visit us again’, the magazine published images of riot police wielding truncheons over Serbs sprawled on pavements outside the stadium. The caption that accompanied these images of police brutality aped Milosˇevic´’s infamous 1987 phrase: ‘No one should be allowed to beat you!’134 On the terraces, Serbs and the coalition of Slovene and Croat supporters mimicked the hostility of their political leaderships. The chant ‘Delije, Delije, come on all together! Slobodan Milosˇevic´ supports us!’, was met with ‘Fuck Red Star, fuck Partizan, fuck, fuck Slobodan!’, and chants for Kosovar leader Azem Vllasi.135 As it transpired, this ill-tempered encounter was not a dress rehearsal for a potentially far more violent confrontation; the Slovene authorities banned the ‘Meeting of Truth’ and mobilised large numbers of police to secure the republic’s borders. These measures ensured a further deterioration in Serb–Slovene relations, as Serbs were urged to boycott Slovene products and sever ties with Slovene institutions and enterprises. Unable to change the course of events in Yugoslavia’s north-western republic,

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Milosˇevic´ decided to push Slovenia out of the federation as quickly as possible.136 Relations broke down entirely at the Fourteenth Extraordinary Congress of the League of Communists in January 1990. At Belgrade’s Sava Centre, rounds of applause greeted each defeated Slovene proposal. Exasperated and humiliated, the Slovenes walked out of the conference hall, closely followed by the Croat delegation. The League of Communists of Yugoslavia disintegrated shortly afterwards, as the constituent republics scheduled democratic elections. This momentous political event reverberated through football. Former JNA general and state security official, Jovo Popovic´, was the FSJ’s man in charge of stadium security. In the circumstances, it was a difficult job. Shortly after the doomed congress, Popovic´ explained how nationalism had infiltrated the game. In his opinion, Yugoslav football had become a ‘council of republics and provinces’.137 However, the principal targets of Popovic´’s critique were ‘separatists’, while he stressed that nationalist disorder in football grounds was deliberately orchestrated by religious figures, e´migre´ circles and the ‘darkest nationalists’: Croats, including Franjo Tud¯man, were the prime offenders. The level of supporter unrest had already prompted journalists to ask whether the First League ought to be suspended: it is a disgrace when a journalist writes ‘that if it is possible to abandon the Extraordinary Congress of the SKJ, why can’t the Yugoslav football championship also be abandoned?’ Such people don’t wish football well, let alone Yugoslavia. Because if we have something in common at this moment, something Yugoslav, then that is the Yugoslav football championship!138 In support of his stance, Popovic´ stressed that all club presidents favoured a unified First League, though he admitted there were ‘also separatists in football’. Particularly in the Kosovo Football Association, the FSJ needed to take action: ‘there are referees and delegates from Kosovo who were legally responsible for irredentism and separatism, but are working in football!’ Clearly, other FSJ functionaries, particularly those from the western republics, did not share Popovic´’s one-sided, pro-Milosˇevic´ assessment. Nevertheless, this partisan depiction of the crisis did not bode well in terms of calming rival supporters’ groups fuelled by nationalism. The period surrounding the collapse of the SKJ and the first multiparty elections was characterised by a spike in nationalist disorder. In the autumn of 1989, excesses marred virtually every match involving the ‘Big Four’. While Belgrade’s groups goaded Croat and Slovene visitors to the capital,

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Dinamo’s BBB were involved in serious incidents in Banja Luka, Zagreb and Novi Sad. In the first of these, five hundred BBB members were ejected from the stadium after singing nationalist songs, attempting to invade the pitch and clashing with the police.139 Following more disorder between the BBB and Red Firm in Novi Sad in February, Popovic´ added fuel to the fire: ‘We will be rigorous towards clubs where attacks on the forces of law and order occur. Come on! Our police are beaten enough in Kosovo, there’s no way that it is going to happen in stadiums as well!’140 At the same time, the editor of the Belgrade daily Sport warned: There is a threat of civil war in the stadiums. Slogans of hate will not only be accompanied by stones and lumps of concrete, but perhaps tomorrow by bursts of machine gun fire, time bombs in the changing rooms, grenades among the young people of this sadly divided and poisoned . . . Yugoslav land.141 After the Croatian elections, the situation would indeed deteriorate further.

Counter Trends The House of Flowers is a short walk from the JNA Stadium. Beyond the thick draped curtains and red carpet of the entrance hall, a serene white room with a glass roof abounds in lush greenery. In the centre of the polished marble floor, a gleaming sarcophagus is encrusted with gold lettering. This is the final resting place of Josip Broz Tito. In 1986, Velezˇ supporters came to pay their respects before their team lifted the Marshal’s trophy for the second time. Fans of the other finalist, Dinamo, spent the day roaming Belgrade’s streets, where they fought pitched battles with Serbian rivals that had nothing to do with the match. In contrast, Red Army carried pictures of Tito around the city. He was the embodiment of ethnic tolerance espoused by the group.142 Their relationship with the new politics was simple: We don’t back a single politician, because they are all guilty for what is happening in the country. Our orientation is Yugoslav and it will remain so. Nationality in Mostar and within Red Army doesn’t have any meaning whatsoever. For us it’s great to all be together. We’ve amalgamated love towards Velezˇ, Mostar, Hercegovina and Yugoslavia, and we despise nationalists.143

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Red Army were adamant that the only reason unemployed young people engaged with politics was because they were lured with money by all sides: ‘If these guys had good pay they wouldn’t give a shit about these Cˇetniks, or [Tud¯man’s] HDZ [Hrvatska demokratska zajednica, Croatian Democratic Union], or [the Bosnian Muslim] SDA [Stranka demokratske akcije, Party of Democratic Action], or anyone else’.144 Velezˇ and its supporters clung steadfastly to Tito’s path until the end. His portrait hung in club offices in the late summer of 1991, at a time when his personality cult had been deconstructed. Two decades later, Red Army still held the former leader in high esteem, chanting his name and daubing it on walls across town.145 During the troubled post-Tito era, Red Army was not an anomaly in the sea of supporter nationalism. Provocative fans dominated the headlines, but the supporting culture encompassed a broad spectrum. Even the ‘Big Four’ groups contained many adherents who did not perceive themselves as nationalists.146 A number of pro-Yugoslav groups expressed aversions to exclusivist politics.147 Most prevalent in multi-ethnic regions, they consciously distanced football rivalries from prevalent nationalist antagonisms via the cultivation of a ‘Yugoslav orientation’. This countertrend was at its strongest in Bosnia & Hercegovina, where all the major groups declared allegiance to Yugoslavia. Nationalist politics came late to this republic at the heart of the country. A poll conducted in the spring of 1990 showed that a large majority of the republic’s population favoured a ban on ethnic political parties.148 Though the poll was limited to urban areas, so were the major supporters’ groups. FK Sarajevo’s Horde zla even displayed a large banner, declaring: ‘Yugoslav by nationality’.149 The Vultures (Borac Banja Luka supporters) were typical. In December 1990, leaders explained that ‘a roughly equal number of Serbs, Croats and Muslims constitute the Vultures’.150 The group’s collective political identity, steeped in Yugoslav Socialist Patriotism, was apparent in songs submitted to supporters’ forums: In hearts and thoughts, we are always with Borac, we are protecting and cultivating brotherhood and unity. Hey, Yugoslavs! let the message be heard: we are ‘Vultures’, and brotherhood brings us together.151

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Eager to prevent ‘the dismemberment of Bosnia’ by nationalist politicians in neighbouring republics, this group was adamant that while they were generally hospitable to visitors, ‘whoever comes here with a desire to wave national flags will not have a good trip’.152 This comment followed the Bad Blue Boys’ nationalist rampage in multi-ethnic Banja Luka. In response, the Vultures chanted ‘Yugoslavia, Yugoslavia’.153 Borac supporters highlighted the irony of their rivals’ behaviour: It is stupid that almost all have started to express their supporting strength as a result of the near-insane idea of carving-up Yugoslavia. But even those who think this personally are aware that our league, and also their supporting, only has meaning if Red Star, Dinamo, Hajduk, Partizan . . . are competing together.154 Nationalist groups effectively called for the destruction of their platform for provocative interactions with counterparts in other republics. The dissolution of the federal state would almost certainly result in the demise of the First League, drastically weakening domestic competitions and clubs. In the case of a violent political denouement, it was those clubs and supporters’ groups in contested multi-ethnic areas that had the most to lose. Even in April 1991, as Yugoslavia edged towards conflict, the Vultures reiterated their loyalty to the state: We are neither Croat, nor Muslim, nor Serb nationalists – we are Yugoslav nationalists! Yugoslavia is in our hearts and in our Borac. We despise every other demonstration of nationalism, of whatever kind. Unfortunately, we are witnesses of ever more ugly scenes in our stadiums, where – it appears – they have started to come for entirely different motives than has been the case for years. Stadiums have become shooting-ranges for political exchanges, for displaying the lowest hooligan passions155 The Vultures worked to improve relations between fans across Yugoslavia and even aspired to establish an overarching association of supporters’ groups. In the meantime, they harnessed Tempo to invite other group leaders to make contact prior to visiting Banja Luka, so that opposing supporters could enjoy fraternal relations and mutual hospitality. While ‘skirmishing, hatred and fights [were] of no use to anyone’, fans could form the vanguard of political reconciliation in the country:

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We are, therefore, offering a hand of conciliation; a hand of cooperation to all fans. . . . We supporters would probably settle things more easily than politicians. We should struggle to drive ‘petty-politicians’ out of the stadium.156 This commendable sentiment is juxtaposed with tales of the violence and political provocations that the group endured. Elsewhere, the adoption of multi-ethnic identities did not signal an aversion to violent behaviour. The leader of Sloboda Tuzla’s Fukare explained that ‘I would like all Bosnian supporters to unite and for us to fight the others together’.157 A Yugoslav orientation was by no means an easy option. The levels of abuse from divisive nationalist counterparts made its maintenance increasingly difficult. Supporters in Serbia and Croatia frequently tarred Bosnian groups as ‘Muslims’. In Novi Sad, Horde zla were on the receiving end of religious abuse: ‘Both at home and abroad Muslims suck cock!’; ‘From Sarajevo to Iran, there will be no Muslims!’158 In response, the group embraced the challenge of insulting each of Vojvodina’s many ethnic groups in turn. The deteriorating political situation took its toll. Horde zla were among the first to adapt in autumn 1990. Noting the rise of nationalism among Serbs and Croats, the group explained that the majority of them no longer wished to defend Yugoslavia. Instead, they retreated to a defence of multi-ethnic Bosnia: ‘Because the majority of Yugoslavia is [now] in Bosnia – everyone else is looking for something else’. C´ao tifo captured the shift: ‘they don’t give a shit who is what religion and if they really need to lobby for someone, they will lobby for Bosnians’.159 Despite this subtle change, Horde zla continued to support political solutions based upon the maintenance of Yugoslavia. In August 1990, the group backed the policies of federal Prime Minister Ante Markovic´. The popular Markovic´ implemented much-needed economic reforms, which initially enjoyed considerable success. Obstructive and divisive policies of republic-level governments, however, hampered him. Horde zla fiercely condemned nationalist politicians, even adopting violent Delije songs about Franjo Tud¯man after he questioned which nation Bosnia belonged to: ‘it is not only him personally. We will fuck over anyone who raises a hand against Bosnia’. Although Muslims were Horde zla’s largest constituent nation, its members stressed they did not back parties on that basis. Their assessment of Bosnian politicians was scathing: ‘up until yesterday they were all communists, they all stole, incurred debts . . . they will not pay it back for another two generations, but now they are selling us some new bullshit’.160

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This was the group’s public position well into 1991. A letter published in TN, however, titled ‘The Truth about “HZ”’, suggested its leaders presented a false picture and that they actually backed the leading Muslim party: ‘the majority of “HZ” welcome the SDA, so it is illogical for [a group spokesman] to speak against that party in the name of “HZ”’.161 Just as the group abandoned their pro-Yugoslav stance when it became clear that support for Yugoslavia effectively meant backing Milosˇevic´’s politics, they subsequently embraced a narrow Muslim identity as nationalist politics triumphed in their own republic.162 The Maniacs also relented and declared support for the SDA. Nevertheless, the group hoped ‘national euphoria’ would end and that supporters would ‘find something new to ape instead of nationalism’.163 The eventual triumph of nationalist supporting shares much in common with a process Eric Gordy describes as ‘the destruction of alternatives’ in Serbia: With nation replacing class as the fundamental ideological principle, opponents of the regime became enemies of the nation. . . . National thinking in this radical view is narrower than Communist thinking was, admits fewer allies . . ., and regards opponents as traitors. As its principle of exclusion is nationally based, it assumes “national consciousness” on the part of both its own nation and others and attempts to explain disagreements over political questions through the national key164 As a narrow national identity dominated in both Serbia and Croatia, a concurrent destruction of supporting alternatives left exclusive nationalisms triumphant in Yugoslavia’s stadiums. A Yugoslav identity became increasingly unsustainable for supporters, as specific national projects moved ever closer to secession from a severely weakened federal state. With the outbreak of conflict, staunchly multi-ethnic groups disintegrated along national lines. The Vultures evolved into a hotbed of Serbian nationalism.165 *** Novi Sad’s Red Firm initially self-identified as Yugoslav-orientated supporters and ‘Vojvodinians’. Like Bosnia, Vojvodina was incredibly diverse. Serbs constituted just 56.8 per cent of the province’s ethnic patchwork.166 Like the Vultures, in their inaugural year a heterogeneous Red Firm responded to nationalist provocations with chants of ‘Yugoslavia, Yugoslavia!’167

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The evolution of the group’s collective identity occurred earlier than its Bosnian counterparts due to the prevailing political climate in the province. Red Firm had celebrated a 1989 Dinamo victory over Red Star that handed the league title to FK Vojvodina. Against this backdrop, supporters of other Serbian clubs attacked the group’s pro-Yugoslav stance as a betrayal of Serbia. So, when Dinamo visited Novi Sad in the run up to Croatia’s multiparty elections, Red Firm had something to prove. In a day of violent incidents and police brutality, they were joined on the terraces by a coalition of Serbian groups and traded nationalist abuse with the visiting BBB.168 In this manner, football mirrored political developments, as groups succumbed to the conclusion that narrow nationalism was the answer to Yugoslavia’s problems. Red Firm became a solid bastion of Serb nationalism and the BBB’s fraught visit was a seminal moment in its evolution: there were very big tensions about . . . this game against Dinamo. Going back to the railway station they were attacked many times – Vojvodina supporters took two banners from them and stoned their train. Many people were hurt – most on the Croatian side, but some on the Red Firm side as well. It was one of many such events across Yugoslavia: ‘This was just the introduction . . . it all broke down in the Maksimir . . . in Zagreb it finally broke down – the whole country and everything’.169

CHAPTER 7 THE MAKSIMIR MYTH

Below the terraces of Dinamo Zagreb’s Maksimir Stadium, a monument honours 13 May 1990 as the beginning of Croatia’s war of independence. The Bad Blue Boys (BBB) unveiled this commemorative plaque at an emotional ceremony in 1994 while war in Croatia was ongoing. Footballers past and present as well as officials joined thousands of group members.1 According to the monument, Dinamo’s supporters played a direct part in initiating conflict during a nationalism-fuelled riot with both Serbian supporters of Red Star and a local police force that was also viewed as a Serbdominated institution. Seen as a serious escalation of Yugoslavia’s ethnic tension at the time, over the ensuing years the riot became a legendary part of post-conflict folklore across the former Yugoslavia.2 The supporters who erected the memorial are not alone in believing that the struggle for Croatian independence began here. Both domestic and foreign media have invested in lengthy documentaries, and anniversaries regularly prompt a flurry of newspaper articles. Writers and researchers have flagged the riot’s significance in books and scholarly texts read far beyond the Balkans.3 War did not break out on Croatian soil until over a year after the event, however, and nationalist-fuelled disruption was a common aspect of Yugoslav football during this period. So why is Maksimir remembered as a watershed? Why is the riot understood as the beginning of the end of Yugoslavia by so many – and is this in any way justified? To start unpacking this myth, it is necessary to return to the events of preceding months.

Enter Democracy In some respects, football remained a unifying force. In 1987, Yugoslavia’s youth reprezentacija won the World Youth Championship in Chile.

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Figure 20 Maksimir monument to fallen Dinamo Zagreb supporters. Author, 2006. Their victory inspired the hope that this promising generation would finally bring success to the senior national team.4 That other bastion of Yugoslav unity, the Yugoslav People’s Army, also brought the country’s most talented footballers together. In consultation with the FSJ (Fudbalski savez Jugoslavije, Football Association of Yugoslavia), the army concentrated current and potential national team players in the same Belgrade garrison to perform obligatory military service. In this way, Dinamo’s Zvonimir Boban and Kujtim Sˇalja trained alongside Red Star’s Dejan Savic´evic´ and Darko Pancˇev, ensuring they were in peak physical condition to serve Yugoslavia on both military and sporting fronts.5 As the 1990s dawned, Yugoslavia was in political turmoil. Slobodan Milosˇevic´’s consolidation of power in Serbia had destabilised fragile federal institutions, while the League of Communists no longer existed as a unifying body. In spring 1990, Croatia held its first multi-party elections and Franjo Tud¯man’s nationalist Croatian Democratic Union (Hrvatska demokratska zajednica, HDZ) won the poll. A first past the post electoral system gave the HDZ an absolute parliamentary majority with just 42 per cent of the vote. The 35 per cent share that went to the reformed communists included a majority of votes cast by ethnic Serbs. Although

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the HDZ did not campaign on a platform of independence, the result brought Yugoslavia’s dissolution a step closer as Croatian secession became a serious option.6 Just over 12 per cent of Croatia’s population – more than half a million inhabitants – were ethnic Serbs,7 many of whom did not wish to live in an independent Croat state. While many resided in the republic’s urban centres, they formed a majority in a number of predominantly rural municipalities. Nationalist politicians in Belgrade tacitly encouraged Croatia’s Serbs by exploiting fears and memories of the brutal Ustasˇa regime, which had instigated genocidal policies against its Serb community in the 1940s. This persecution contributed to the fact that Serbs constituted around 50 per cent of partisan recruits from the Independent State of Croatia (Nezavisna drzˇava Hrvatska, NDH). In late 1942, the senior communist Mosˇa Pijade had even suggested that a Serbian autonomous province be established within Croatia, but this was never acted upon.8 Disproportionate numbers of Serbs among Tito’s victorious partisans contributed to their overrepresentation in Croatian state institutions, the police and the army. Even in 1980, Serbs were a majority in the Croatian police.9 The pledge to address this discrepancy was an important aspect of the HDZ’s election manifesto, further exacerbating relations with Croatia’s Serbs.10 Tud¯man did little to allay fears, utilising such phrases as: ‘All people are equal in Croatia, but it must be clear who is the host and who the guest’.11 These ethnically exclusive tactics alienated Serbs, contributing to a tense standoff that culminated in armed conflict. The Serbian Democratic Party (Srpska demokratska stranka, SDS) was formed in the Serb majority town of Knin on 17 February 1990. It came too late to enjoy significant electoral success, but it won five seats in municipalities in the Knin region.12 With its ethnic platform, the SDS quickly gained support beyond their radical heartlands. In late spring, Milan Babic´, a leading SDS member and Mayor of Knin, established the ‘association of Serb municipalities’.13 This organisation developed into the Serbian autonomous regions that would add a territorial dimension to demands for autonomy as relations with Zagreb deteriorated throughout the summer.14 When the HDZ amended the republic’s constitution, ethnic Serbs – who had enjoyed the status of a ‘constitutive people’ – were relegated to a national minority. State symbols recalling Ustasˇa rule were reintroduced, further increasing Serbian fears and the nationalist exploitation that accompanied them.15 A month before Maksimir, the tense political situation impinged directly upon football. Following the Croatian derby between Hajduk and Dinamo, a reader of Zagreb’s Sprint magazine complained bitterly about the

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rough treatment supporters received from Knin’s policemen on their way down to Split. Without provocation, police rounded up some supporters at the railway station and ‘brutally beat them’: They took them inside the station, six of them . . . and there they continued to beat them along with the words: ‘We have been waiting for you, you won’t see Split’. Around 13:00, with a new clubbing such as can only be seen in films, the lads were conveyed to Zagreb, accompanied by police. One was even barefoot . . . . It looks like their support for Hajduk and Dinamo was their only sin. Maybe we should support some other team in order to pass peacefully through Knin.16 Whether or not the arrests were justified, it is apparent that Knin, as a strategically important railway junction linking northern Croatia with its southern coast, was already a point of conflict, especially for the BBB and Torcida. In these new circumstances, these groups were recast as ‘brothers’ by dint of shared nationality. The reader implies that Serb supporters would not have experienced similar problems with the Knin police. This notion that the domestic force acted with hostility against Croat supporters would resurface prominently during the Maksimir post-mortem. Nationalist politics touched Dinamo during the election campaign. Tud¯man’s HDZ erected advertising hoardings at Maksimir, while the Bad Blue Boys actively supported the party in the run up to the poll.17 The group finally had a national leader of their own to counter their Serbian opponents’ vocal support for Vuk Drasˇkovic´, Vojislav Sˇesˇelj and, increasingly, Slobodan Milosˇevic´. Against this backdrop, just two weeks after Tud¯man’s victory, champions Red Star travelled to the Croatian capital. Tud¯man was not officially inaugurated as President of Croatia until 30 May, over two weeks after the match. A tense nationalist-fuelled occasion was ensured.

The Riot From a platform decorated with flower boxes, a short walk through the narrow station concourse leads to the ordered streets of Zagreb’s Habsburg core. Trams trundle past the station’s long facade and the rectangular King Tomislav Park stretches into the distance. The medieval Croatian monarch observes newcomers to the city from his lofty mount on the opposite side of the street. Ornate nineteenth-century buildings in pastel yellow frame the

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green expanse. Similar scenes awaited hundreds of Belgrade youths in May 1990 as they arrived at dawn on trains from Serbia. Sightseeing was not high on their list of priorities. The windows of the ‘Progres’ shop on Maksimir Street had been smashed the day before, but the arrival of the first Belgrade train in the early hours heralded a string of further incidents. Fans used the emergency brake to bring the train to a grinding halt prior to the station, enabling them to disembark and avoid the waiting police. Having spent the night confined in carriages, these young Delije members clashed with police almost immediately and then fled down Miramar Street, smashing the windows of ‘Auto-Hrvatska’ (Auto-Croatia) as they went. They targeted the glass frontages of ‘Exportdrvo’, ‘Tehnounion’ and ‘Elan’ – all Croatian and Slovenian companies – as they moved through the city.18 Tenants living on Janko Gredelj Street awoke to the sound of breaking glass and chanting. One resident watched the Delije tear Tud¯man’s election posters from lampposts and walls. By 7.30, the first Serbian groups had arrived in Republic Square, the centre of the Croatian capital. They smashed a tram window on nearby Prasˇka Street and then clashed with the Bad Blue Boys on the square.19 Two Croatian fans from Osijek were stabbed with a screwdriver and ended up in casualty.20 In addition to travelling fans from Serbia, Red Star also enjoyed ‘domestic’ support, including ethnic Serbs who had travelled to Zagreb from rural parts of Croatia.21 Nationalist chanting and street clashes continued throughout the morning and there were further incidents near the stadium. Delije members clashed with locals and police in Maksimir Park at around 12.30, while another confrontation occurred at the crossroads of Maksimir and Harambasˇic´ Streets fifteen minutes later. These Red Star supporters were eventually rounded up, but not before an officer was badly injured. In the meantime, some 300 Delije smashed windows on Banjavic´ Street en route to the stadium. Fifty-five Delije had been arrested before the scheduled kickoff time.22 The stadium gates opened to the public at 4pm, but many Delije had been penned on their terrace as a security measure long before this. In the empty ground, they sang provocative songs about socialist Yugoslavia’s wartime enemies for on-looking police and television cameras: ‘Comrade Tito, Comrade Tito, the Serbs are lying to you! They really love, they really love, General Drazˇa [Mihailovic´]!’23 The Bad Blue Boys subsequently took up their customary position on the old North Terrace, with other home supporters located in the East and West Stands. The area where the Delije were accommodated, in the south-east corner of the ground, has since been

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cleared in redevelopment, but the gaping hole between the upper stands and the athletics track defines where this curved lower tier of terracing once stood. Serbian youths started the afternoon in this tightly penned section, exposed to projectiles from the East Terrace that towered over them. They were situated below an upper tier of South Terrace seating, sparsely populated by Dinamo fans. Supporters wielding Hajduk flags were among those on the east side of the ground, ‘some 30 metres from the “enemy”’.24 The presence of thirdparty fans, reminiscent of earlier instances in Ljubljana and Novi Sad, underlines that this was no ordinary football match. In addition to Hajduk supporters, some BBB members also opted for the East Terrace so as to be closer to the Delije.25 This ill-advised distribution of supporters, particularly the poorly planned division of the South Terrace between home and away fans, created the conditions for an already tense occasion to degenerate into a riot (see Map 4). As kick-off approached, supporters indulged in a customary exchange of nationalist abuse. The Delije shouted ‘We will kill Tud¯man’ and ‘Serbia to

Figure 21 Maksimir’s South Terrace, where both Delije and Dinamo fans were accommodated. The lower tier stood in front of the brick wall. Zagreb. Author, 2006.

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Zagreb’, while their Croat adversaries responded with ‘Franjo, Franjo, HDZ’, along with NDH-saturated chants about the joys of slaughtering Serbs: ‘When you are happy, thrash a Serb against the floor, when you are happy, kill him with a knife, when you are happy, loudly shout Croatia, an independent state’. Other slogans also contained allusions to the divisive wartime past. Having praised Cˇetnik leader Mihailovic´, the Delije shouted: ‘We are Cˇetniks, we are the strongest, the strongest’. The BBB replied with odes to the infamous Ustasˇa figurehead Ante Pavelic´.26 The first incident occurred inside the stadium at 5.39pm, as players warmed up. Croatian supporters in the East Stand and the upper South Terrace pelted the Delije with stones, allegedly stockpiled in advance.27 Partially motivated by a desire to deflect these missiles, the Delije tore down advertising hoardings that hung from the upper tier. Within minutes, they were scaling the short distance that separated the upper and lower parts of the stand so as to attack Dinamo supporters in the sparsely populated tier above. Fans ripped up plastic seats and used them as projectiles, while violent physical exchanges broke out when opposing supporters came into direct contact.28 The police, present in large numbers – the original detachment of 420 officers was later bolstered by a further 170 – inexplicably failed to intervene. Their inaction exacerbated the situation. By 6.20pm, Bad Blue Boys at the opposite end of the stadium had breached weak sections of security fencing and began to charge across the pitch in the direction of the rioting Serbs. Some carried Croatian flags, while others brandished the Yugoslav tricolour with the red star cut out.29 The police had to intervene to prevent the groups coming into direct contact: a series of violent clashes erupted on the field between officers and the BBB. In the defining moment of the riot, Dinamo captain Zvonimir Boban – who had remained on the pitch with his teammates – intervened against a policeman who he felt was beating a Croat supporter in an unjustifiably severe manner. Television footage beamed across the country showed the policeman using his truncheon against Boban and the player’s response in the form of a flying drop kick. The home supporters greeted Boban’s actions with jubilant chants of ‘Zvone, Zvone’.30 The Bad Blue Boys set parts of the stadium alight and attacked fire engines with iron bars and stones. At 7.21pm, an announcement was made via the tannoy: the match would not be played. Eventually, police and firefighters cleared Croat rioters out of the stadium using teargas and water cannon.31 The Delije, who – having violently displaced Dinamo supporters – were the sole occupants of the upper South Terrace, watched the chaos unfold below. They stayed there for several hours under police

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surveillance, relentlessly chanting provocative slogans and setting fire to piles of broken seats. Eventually, this relatively small group of potentially vulnerable supporters were quietly bused to a suburban railway station.32 At the makeshift departure point, they were loaded onto trains and dispatched to Serbia under cover of darkness. The Bad Blue Boys rioted late into the night. Fans damaged seventeen trams, overturning a number of them.33 They also set cars alight, including one belonging to Borba journalists. Although Borba aspired to steer a nonpartisan course during this period, the publication was tainted by its former status as the official Party organ and the fact that it was Belgrade-based.34 Elsewhere, rioters smashed the shop windows of ‘Jugodrvo’, ‘Centrotekstil’ and the ‘Beograd’ shoe shop: Serbian companies were the principal targets. Between 10pm and midnight, some 2,000 BBB congregated before the Croatian Parliament (Sabor) on St Mark’s Square, where they waved Croatian flags and chanted: ‘We want justice, we want Tud¯man’. In the early hours, following a government statement, this volatile group made its way downhill to the railway station.35 If they expected the Delije to board trains there at some point during the night, they would be disappointed. The injured were conveyed to various hospitals throughout the day. The Rebro Clinic, just north of Maksimir, treated some of the worst cases, one of whom had been shot in the leg by a policeman, while another had been stabbed. An officer who had been pelted with stones laid beside them. The nearby Dr Ozren Novosel Hospital also cared for the wounded, including Delije members and a Hajduk supporter who was crushed in an East Stand stairwell in the rush to avoid tear gas.36 There were at least 138 casualties, 79 of whom were policemen. The police issued twenty criminal charges and sixty misdemeanours.37 Although peace returned to Zagreb on Monday morning, the battle continued to rage for months in Yugoslavia’s fractured press.

Media Backlash Everything has gone to the dogs – football fans from two cities have destroyed everything the socialist government built over the past 45 years. They have discarded brotherhood and unity like a pair of old socks to make room for war; they no longer hide Drazˇa or Ante as they shout ‘We are Cˇetniks. . .’ or ‘We are Ante’s’, showing that only a fragile bridge links our two countries. Sportske novosti, 15 May 1990

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Newspapers and magazines were packed with coverage of the riot. Two publications – Belgrade’s Tempo and Zagreb’s Sport magazin – dedicated a combined total of nineteen pages to it, while C´ao tifo documented Maksimir with a ten-page feature.38 A large portion of the Serbian media was in the service of Milosˇevic´, while in Croatia publishing houses, including Vjesnik, offered their services to Tud¯man’s HDZ immediately after the election victory.39 A willingness to blame the opposing national group for initiating the riot and for its consequences characterised the coverage in Serbia’s Politika and Croatia’s Vjesnik.40 Vjesnik eagerly condemned Red Star supporters and the biased behaviour of a police force that singled out Croats for brutal treatment, while Serbia’s Politika blamed the riot upon Dinamo’s Bad Blue Boys and highlighted the provocative role of Croat nationalism. The sporting press replicated this polarised and partisan reportage. In both republics, the media erected a national dividing line between ‘us’ and ‘them’, between ‘absolute good’ and ‘absolute evil’.41 Zvonimir Boban’s infamous clash with a policeman illustrates this. He was emphatically condemned by the Serbian press, with Sportski zˇurnal declaring that ‘not a single democracy in the world’ would approve of Boban’s ‘savagery’, yet he was allegedly hailed as an ‘icon’ and worshipped by Dinamo supporters as a result of it. Red Star captain Dragan Stojkovic´ called for Boban to be imprisoned.42 Meanwhile, the introduction to a Tempo interview with the vilified Croat footballer started with a damning judgement, leaving readers in no doubt of his guilt regardless of what followed: The sad Maksimir events brought those people to the surface who, in normal circumstances, would be neither written about nor discussed. Because hooligans don’t deserve attention, let alone publicity. Unfortunately, among the hooligans – and those of the worst kind – the name of Dinamo captain Zvone Boban can be found.43 In Croatia, the response was more apologetic, tending to justify the player’s actions with reference to unacceptable police brutality. Sport magazin concluded that ‘we are not defending Boban, but we understand him nevertheless’.44 Yet, while many press reports were deeply biased in favour of one national group, the complex Yugoslav media environment provided a broad spectrum of opinion. Politically neutral pieces appeared in newspapers beyond the grip of ruling administrations in the respective republics.

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Even the most polemical reports were unanimous on certain aspects. Criticism of the ‘woefully inadequate’ police response to the Delije’s excesses characterised Croatian reportage, but some Serbian accounts also condemned the police for their failure to deal with the initial unrest. Tempo described this inaction as a ‘fundamental error’.45 Bosnia’s Plus sport was scathing in its condemnation of the police – as well as of all other actors – with one opinion piece thundering: ‘All are Guilty!’46 Split’s Nedjeljna Dalmacija noted that while political bias coloured media coverage, ‘almost everyone agree[d]’ on the subject of the initial police response.47 There was little consensus regarding the behaviour of officers once the incident began, however. Police conduct played into the hands of the newly elected HDZ and its pledge to redress the ethnic balance of the Croatian force. Journalists exacerbated an already tense atmosphere by attacking one another’s accounts and political stances. Belgrade’s Sportski zˇurnal berated its Croatian counterpart Sportske novosti, asserting that its attempt to blame the incident upon a premeditated plan by Serbian supporters was ‘exclusively in the service of inciting the lowest nationalist passions’. Regarding Croatian supporters, the same article stated that ‘the history of sport will classify them in the appropriate position as the most uncivilised in the field of football thuggery’.48 Accusations of bias were also levelled at the Serbian media. Television Zagreb held a press conference to defend its coverage from Serbian criticism and launched a counterattack against Television Belgrade. The latter had ‘falsified events, only aggravating further the collective psychoses’; it had skilfully rigged the ‘truth’. Borba noted that programmes from these broadcasters ‘reveal entirely different versions of the Maksimir incident’.49 Nedjeljna Dalmacija alerted its readership to the irreconcilable coverage emanating from the respective capitals: ‘every image from the Maksimir horror has been “dissected” down to the smallest detail. Admittedly, through three distinctly coloured prisms: red and white [the colours of Red Star], dark blue [the colours of Dinamo] and neutral’.50 Here, football allegiance and national identity are interchangeable. Regardless of radically differing stances, commentators unanimously interpreted Maksimir as a significant deterioration in ethnic relations. A shocked Tempo reporter lamented that he had been forced to write ‘a war report’ for the first time in his career. For Vecˇernje novosti, the incident was ‘just a step away from civil war’. Two Croatian readers predicted that this ‘war’ at the Maksimir would have far reaching consequences, including the end of the Yugoslav championship, while C´ao tifo said the game would go down in history as ‘the beginning of the end of Yugoslavia’.51 Nedjeljna Dalmacija solemnly declared that sport journalists could not ‘avoid the task

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of sometimes acting as a reporter or commentator from a battlefield’.52 Foreign journalists also felt that a symbolic boundary had been crossed, with British correspondents recalling that live television coverage of the event ‘sent waves of fear throughout Yugoslavia’.53 While descriptions of the riot harnessed the language of war, Maksimir did not occur in a vacuum. It followed the series of smaller incidents detailed in the previous chapter. As a result, violent confrontation between two of the largest supporters’ groups came as no surprise to those familiar with stadium conditions in the country. As C´ao tifo explained, ‘[g]ossip that the entire event would pass completely peacefully . . . was more than naı¨ve’. Likewise, Nedjeljna Dalmacija concluded that ‘it was entirely reasonable to expect that something would happen’.54 Despite its magnitude, Maksimir was a predictable progression for hooliganism fuelled by the ‘fault-lines’ of ethnic nationalism.55 Many journalists alluded to these previous incidents, providing crucial context lost in more recent accounts. Although motivated by the objective of scoring cheap political points against Croat participants, Sportski zˇurnal writer Mile Kos nevertheless made an important observation when he stated that the BBB were ‘remembered for evil in Novi Sad, Banja Luka, Sarajevo. . . while even Ljubljana does not remember anything good about them’.56 This recollection of recent disorder underlines the fact that a series of ‘dress rehearsals’ preceded Maksimir. Indeed, the opening scenes of the riot had been played out before when Red Star’s city rivals Partizan visited Maksimir earlier that season. Partizan’s Grobari (Gravediggers) were accommodated in the same enclosure on the lower South Terrace that subsequently housed the Delije. They also tore down advertising hoardings, purportedly as a means of sheltering from projectiles.57 Journalists suggested these exploits inspired the Delije and criticised match organisers for failing to learn lessons. Placing the Delije beneath Dinamo supporters was ‘unforgivable’: ‘there probably would not have been a riot’ if the stadium had been divided up more carefully.58 An incident that occurred a week before Maksimir is enlightening. When Dinamo travelled to Slovenia to face Olimpija, the Bad Blue Boys – who were on friendly terms with Olimpija fans – clashed with local police. A poor Dinamo performance provoked anger between the BBB and their own players. In an interview ironically published after Maksimir – it appeared in the weekly Sport magazin – a supporter explained that events in Ljubljana marked a turning point for him and his friends.59 With an explanation replete with religious symbolism and historical references, he compared their experience with both Catholicism’s depiction of Jesus’ death

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and the notorious Bleiburg massacre of 1945 when the partisans massacred thousands of Croatian soldiers, officials and civilians: It was ‘a new “stations of the cross”: as if we were in a concentration camp and not a stadium’.60 Perceived heavy-handed police treatment sparked this comparison. The day deteriorated further after Dinamo’s poor display. Utilising a metaphor which only features in English in an inverse form, the interviewee stated that ‘the hatchet has been dug up between the BBB and certain Dinamo players’. His group had taken the drastic decision to ‘abandon the North Terrace’ and disband. They planned to go out with a flourish, however: It’s a shame this will be published after Red Star. That will be our last match, and we have prepared very well . . . . The Delije will remember us. So will everyone who follows football. We promise mayhem and we aren’t sure the match will last the full ninety minutes. After fifteen years of supporting, we will end our “career” so that everyone remembers us.61 In light of subsequent events, this declaration provokes the question of whether Maksimir was premeditated. Serbia’s Sport picked up on this unrest and ran the prematch headline: ‘“BBB” Threaten Interruption!?’62 Afterwards, this topic became a major point of dispute, each side claiming that the other had deliberately planned and instigated the riot. Croatia’s Sportske novosti declared ‘the incident was started, consciously and deliberately, by Red Star fans. It was entirely premeditated’.63 The Delije had chanted ‘We are going to Zagreb’ and ‘We will demolish Maksimir’ during matches in the weeks leading up to their excursion.64 Yet, in stark contrast, Tempo explained that the BBB had engineered the disruption. Supporters’ groups from other clubs had been invited to participate: Split ‘Torcida’, Rijeka ‘Armada’, Osijek ‘Kohorta’ and the Ljubljana ‘Dragons’ have announced their arrival. They will unite against the ‘Delije’ and provoke an interruption. They say: if there has not been a [Dinamo] goal by the 20th minute they will create unprecedented fireworks and interrupt the match.65 Visiting Rijeka fans subsequently revelled in their participation in the ‘biggest fight . . . that has ever happened in one of our stadiums’.66

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Chanting prior to the match, the fallout from Ljubljana, the presence of other groups and the advance stockpiling of stones suggest a degree of premeditation. This was a regular feature of supporters’ group activity, however, and does not necessarily set Maksimir apart. A British correspondent reported that the riot ‘bore the hallmarks of a planned campaign’,67 but there is insufficient evidence to support this. Hooliganism scholar Ramo´n Spaaij notes the term ‘organised’ can be misleading: ‘A common error, for instance within journalist and police circles, is to overstress the degree of formal organisation involved in football violence’. Violent fan behaviour ‘may be triggered by more spontaneous elements such as aggressive policing or events on the pitch’.68 Although certain aspects of Maksimir were envisaged in advance, the weak police response and Boban’s rabblerousing exploits must be viewed as crucial exacerbating factors. Above all, it is important not to confuse the historical timeline by applying subsequent levels of paramilitary organisation – exhibited by Delije members during the war – to an event that took place months before the descent into armed conflict. Nevertheless, potential premeditation served belligerent sections of the media. Conspiracy theories took on a fantastical but disturbingly nationalist quality from the outset. Journalists accused the opposing national group of orchestrating violence for political purposes. Sport magazin suggested that shady Serbian forces had scripted everything in advance: ‘Maybe this was the final attempt at throttling democracy in Croatia’.69 This referred to the stage-managed mass demonstrations that Milosˇevic´ used to devastating effect. The theory must also be viewed in light of the aborted ‘Meeting of Truth’ that had been planned for Ljubljana in the previous December.70 The Croatian Social Liberal Party declared that Maksimir ‘was a case of deliberate provocation to destabilise Croatia and discredit it in the eyes of the world and the Yugoslav public, precisely at the moment when Croatia’s election results are known’.71 HDZ Vice-President Perica Juric´ described the riot as ‘a staged attack’ on his party’s victory.72 Other Croatian journalists stressed that Red Star supporters had carried out a preconceived political plan, highlighting the Delije’s partiality for nationalist parties and territorial expansionism: ‘a section of these young men are captivated by the ideas of the Serbian Renewal Movement [Srpski pokret obnove, SPO] and would gladly tether their Danube barges to the [Croatian port of] Rijeka[’s] jetty’: The consequences were seen of the historical Eighth Session of the Central Committee of Serbia [when Milosˇevic´ cleared the way for his political ascent]; of the recent free elections in Croatia; of the

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happening of the people [Milosˇevic´’s mass rallies]; of Knin [the town at the heart of the Croatian Serb rebellion]; of Petrova Gora [venue for a mass meeting of Croatian Serbs]; and by God, we saw 13 May at Maksimir, and so did Europe.73 Here, the author integrates the riot into a list of events inseparably connected to Serbian nationalism in order to portray the incident as one of murky premeditation. Serbian journalists countered with a narrative of their own, claiming the HDZ provoked the riot with its political strategy. Tempo reported that a portrait of Franjo Tud¯man hung proudly on Dinamo’s dressing room wall: ‘Is the embryo of this madness precisely here, in the interweaving of the two, until yesterday, inconceivably distant concepts of sport and politics?’74 Politika’s international edition pointed to advertising hoardings erected at Maksimir as part of the HDZ election campaign.75 Such observations prompted the conclusion that the HDZ had planned the incident to accelerate its chauvinist anti-Serb programme: ‘the entire “plot” was hatched to justify the “purge” of the local police’.76 The ‘hand of reconciliation’ stretched out to Croatian Serbs had already proved false: The HDZ’s pre-election promise that the borders of Croatia extend to Zemun [a suburb of Belgrade] and include most of Bosnia has obviously been taken seriously by the young storm troopers as they set out to attack everything which is not ethnically clean!77 This belligerent piece, albeit written from the opposing perspective, again links Maksimir’s violence to chauvinist ideologies of territorial expansion. The BBB demonstration at the Sabor served as further proof that Tud¯man and the HDZ planned the whole affair.78 Regardless of the questionable veracity of these disparate claims, Maksimir was immediately more than a hooligan riot: it was an event over which polemicists enjoyed free reign. Contact columns in sports magazines offered scope for the airing of alternative viewpoints. Although subject to the editorial process, manipulation and even fabrication, readers’ letters sections disseminated a range of perspectives and encompassed opinions that did not fit the national stereotypes assigned to the more belligerent sections of the press.79 Tempo published the opinions of two Croatian readers who were highly critical of the magazine’s coverage of Boban, the disgraceful behaviour of the ‘barbarian’ Delije and the excessive police ‘assault’ against Croat supporters: ‘with your inaccurate report you only abused your readers’ trust, and also

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lost many of them’. These readers did not expect their charges to be aired: ‘We doubt that you will publish this, but if you do you must not delete or alter anything’.80 The magazine duly provided a forum to its detractors. Zagreb’s Sport magazin did the same, publishing letters that were highly critical of its editorial line. Srec´ko from Zagreb wrote to challenge biased reportage from his city: It is true the Delije began the destruction and fighting, but before that they were insulted and pelted with stones. It is in no way the case that they ‘deliberately’ provoked the incident – the way Zagreb journalists are repeatedly trying to vindicate the other side.81 Srec´ko was disgusted by fascist chants: ‘the cheering for the Poglavnik [Fu¨hrer], i.e. Ante Pavelic´, is still reverberating in my ears . . . . This is shame and misery that absolutely no journalistic pen can deny’.82 These rare contributions, written to expose nationalism and present a conciliatory line, appeared alongside those championing ‘their’ national group to the detriment of the ‘other’. Belligerent letters reinforced the stereotypes in earlier reports and ratcheted up chauvinist aggression. Ivan from Split explained that the Delije were guilty for causing the riot, not least because of ‘the Greater Serbian hegemony with which these youths are imbued’.83 He condemned alcohol- and drug-fuelled ‘cowards and weaklings’ before making a recommendation to Dinamo, Hajduk and other Croatian club supporters: Don’t model yourselves upon the Red Star ‘supporters’; above all let us support our own – loving our own more than hating someone else’s. Let us never attack first, but let us defend our own to the last drop of blood (like on Sunday at the Maksimir).84 Stjepan, a Dinamo supporter, wrote that police discrimination against the BBB was a ‘long-standing campaign’, before noting it had now ‘clearly turned out to be against Croatia as well’. He expressed outrage that officers ‘didn’t react when Red Star’s supporters demolished the southern part’ of Maksimir. Croats had to demand ‘a Croatian police force in Zagreb’.85 Stjepan evidently considered the incumbent force a hostile, foreign one. Serbian supporters eagerly championed the virtues of their nation at the expense of their Croat neighbours. Milan, who was at the riot, criticised the lack of hospitality extended to Red Star fans. Claiming that similar

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incidents never occurred in Belgrade, he incredulously emphasised: ‘We greet them with sandwiches, they greet us with stones!’ Having presented his fellow supporters as a bastion of civility, he declared: ‘Shame on anyone who blames the “Delije” for being the principal culprits’.86 The BBB were guilty for everything. To underline the barbaric behaviour of these separatist Croats, Milan asked: ‘What kind of citizens of Zagreb are those who beat their own police, destroy their own stadium, and city?’87 Another Red Star supporter, from the Croatian town of Petrinja, explained that certain Croats were guilty of intolerable hatred: I must point out that among the Zagreb public it has even gone to such extremes that they immediately link the Maksimir events with the well-known [mass rallies and actions of Croatian Serbs] . . . – it is said how this is a premeditated attack by Serbian separatists upon the new government of Croatia. I think that those who directed such talk must . . . sort themselves out88 He blamed prominent Zagreb radio presenter Ivan Jurisˇic´ for this crime. Fierce polemical debates as to Boban’s diabolical guilt or heroic defiance also raged in readers’ letters pages. Again, the incident tended to divide readers along national lines. A Partizan supporter from the Montenegrin capital Titograd condemned Boban’s ‘savage assault’. Calling for ‘lifelong disqualification’, the reader questioned whether Boban should ever play for the reprezentacija again, after ‘the clip of that brutal attack on a policeman . . . was broadcast around the whole world on TV’.89 In complete contrast, multiple letters from Dinamo supporters stressed his innocence: Boban had acted in self-defence.90 Supporters from Sinj defiantly ‘congratulate[d] him once again for that “heroic act”’. Their diatribe explained that Dinamo players and supporters ‘suffer injustice’ their whole lives, and called for Boban – ‘our Ban’ – to persevere in the face of the ‘humiliation’ of his punishment: a nine month suspension handed down by the FSJ.91 Openly hostile letters were not exempt from criticism. Sport magazin was condemned for printing nationalist correspondence: ‘it is not clear to me why, from the few hundred letters which you receive, you publish the kind which were published in the 6/6/1990 issue’. These included the letters cited above from Stjepan and the Sinj based Dinamo supporters: ‘what all these letters have in common is that they are emphatically nationalist and lack any sense of reality’. This reader concluded: ‘With the publication of such letters you are directly stimulating hatred and a lack of understanding in these “supporters”, just as with the non-publication of this letter’.92

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Readers’ forums contributed to a process of metamorphosis. Immediately viewed as far more than a mere football riot, the myths surrounding Maksimir – stemming from the earliest days after the event – continued their elaborate evolution as Yugoslavia fell apart.

The Myth The lobby is a long triangular atrium, with a sloping wall of red steel and tainted glass. Lush plants thrive at its base. Further in, the marble floor gives way to dark red carpet. Mirrored walls and tired fittings line this area underneath a low ceiling. Guests have relaxed at the Continental Hotel since the late 1970s. In January 2000, the notorious villain of the Maksimir myth sat in the dining area of this opulent smoke-filled corner of Belgrade. His assassin walked up to his table and calmly gunned him down. When his life was brutally cut short, Zˇeljko Razˇnatovic´ ‘Arkan’ was wanted for war crimes by the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia for his activities in Croatia, Bosnia and Kosovo. He had a fiercely secretive relationship with the Milosˇevic´ regime, was married to one of Serbia’s most famous singers and was a national icon in his own right. Ten years earlier he had been part of Red Star’s entourage at Maksimir. When war broke out between Serbs and Croats in summer 1991, many members of the Bad Blue Boys and Delije joined incipient armies and paramilitary organisations. This facilitated the mutation of the Maksimir myth, as the idea that the riot was the war’s opening battle became commonplace. Military formations initially contained large numbers of football supporters, so the ‘first armed clashes were frequently described by those participants as a direct continuation of the clashes between Croatian and Serbian’ fan groups before the war.93 Hindsight sheds light upon the monument that was erected to commemorate: All supporters of Dinamo, for whom the war began on 13.V.1990 at the Maksimir Stadium, and ended with the laying down of their lives on the altar of the Croatian homeland! At least for the region’s football supporters, Maksimir became important in two respects. Firstly, it stands as a prominent identity-forming incident for the groups involved, solidifying their national identities and underpinning claims to significant roles in the national struggles of Croatia and Serbia respectively. More importantly though, Maksimir has come to be viewed by many as either part of the founding myth of modern Croatia or as one of the key events which resulted in the destruction of Croatia’s Serbian community.

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Figure 22 ‘Zˇeljko Lives’. A mural to the murdered paramilitary leader adorns the wall of his football club, Obilic´ Belgrade. Author, 2009. Tea Sindbæk discusses the extent to which ‘uses of history and historical myths . . . contribute primarily to the creation of (football) group identities, but less directly also to negotiations of grand political and national histories’.94 She uses the term ‘historical culture’ to describe the ‘numerous ways in which history is represented and drawn upon in society’:

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In a situation, where historical culture is at least partly broken down, we may assume that history becomes open to negotiation and redefinition. It seems likely that other agents are just as or even more legitimate negotiators than historians. In such a situation . . . much interpretation and communication of history is decentralised into what we may think of as historical subcultures and . . . important work with regard to history interpretation and uses of history is taking place within popular culture.95 Maksimir occupies a prominent position within both the historical culture of the former Yugoslav region and the ‘historical subcultures’ of supporters’ groups. It is an example where a sporting myth contributes to ‘negotiations of grand political and national histories’. As a result, it is necessary to explore the principal tenets of the myth and to highlight the extent to which certain aspects have been manipulated to emphasise the riot’s importance and symbolic significance. Subsequent wartime developments had a crucial impact. Before he became a notorious paramilitary leader, constructing his Serbian Volunteer Guard (Srpska dobrovoljacˇka garda, SDG) around a nucleus of Red Star supporters, Arkan was involved in the club’s security arrangements. As an underworld figure, he already had a formidable criminal record, and reputedly carried out assassinations on the state’s behalf. Since its foundation, Red Star had been closely connected to Serbia’s security apparatus and a string of high-ranking police figures served in the club’s administration. At the dawn of the nineties, Radmilo Bogdanovic´ – a senior functionary in Milosˇevic´’s party who rose to the position of Serbian Minister of Internal Affairs – was a Red Star board member. At the end of 1990, Arkan’s involvement in the club deepened, as he became the Delije’s leader and worked to channel their political energies towards support for Milosˇevic´ and away from his opponents.96 Four years later, Arkan recalled Maksimir as a seminal moment in his realisation that war was approaching. Although he distorts the dates to magnify the significance of the event, while equating the HDZ with Croatian fascists, Arkan’s description nevertheless provides an intriguing insight into the way he wanted to present the incident: The Ustasˇa came to power. . . Tud¯man came to power on 12 May [sic.]. The match was on the 13th and immediately after that we organised ourselves . . . . I organised the Serbian Volunteer Guard. We organised right then, printed our military logbooks . . . we understood everything most seriously. I foresaw war, and I must say,

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I foresaw war because of that match in Zagreb. I foresaw everything and I knew Ustasˇa knives would again slaughter Serbian women and children, and we wanted to prevent that; we wanted to protect our nation.97 In the same interview, Arkan gives the official date for the SDG’s establishment as 11 October, but he was keen to emphasise Maksimir’s significance and timing, with the crowd roaring ‘“Hang the Serbs from the Willows!” And just one day had passed since Tud¯man came to power’.98 Such reminiscencing from a prominent Serbian figure added a layer of mystique to the riot. Many subsequent accounts have noted Arkan’s presence. A biography of the paramilitary leader elevates his role at Maksimir: Arkan had spent months preparing the Delije for this day, which some would call the ‘day that ended Yugoslavia’. He trained them in specialized street fighting, promoted new pronationalist songs, talked of the time they would have to defend themselves.99 Maksimir presented nothing new in terms of ‘street fighting’ or ‘pronationalist songs’, and while Arkan subsequently prepared Delije members for paramilitary activity, the Delije’s behaviour in Zagreb could not have been influenced by such training. Nevertheless, the biographer states that, in ‘retrospect, history would see this day as Arkan’s first war offense’.100 This observation adds to the myth, but there is little to suggest that Arkan was any more than a peripheral figure at the stadium, acting as security for the Red Star bench. An academic exploration uses hindsight to extrapolate from Arkan’s presence the claim that the Delije and BBB were already operating as some form of paramilitary movements by May 1990.101 This telescoping of events contributes to an attractive legend, adding to the mystical qualities that have developed around Maksimir and its supposed role in initiating war. But, as Arkan stated, his Serbian Volunteer Guard was formed five months later, and this admission comes from a man who was demonstrably eager to establish causation. Moreover, most of the Delije’s leadership – including some of those who subsequently joined Arkan’s paramilitary unit – did not even travel to Zagreb for this match: they were otherwise engaged at the unveiling of a memorial plaque to Cˇetnik leader Drazˇa Mihailovic´ in Ravna Gora.102 Nevertheless, according to various versions of the myth, Arkan played a leading role in orchestrating a premeditated assault by the Delije. On the twentieth anniversary, Zagreb’s Jutarnji list condensed the riot and

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subsequent war into a single campaign: ‘everyone saw that in the title role of conductor of the Delije was Zˇeljko Razˇnatovic´ “Arkan”, a person under whose command the Red Star legions from Belgrade set out upon Zagreb, and afterwards upon Croatia’.103 Arkan’s biographer presents a similar picture when discussing archive footage: There is a scene of him on the field looking up at his boys as they begin their march of terror. At this point, like an orchestra conductor, Arkan had to do little now to expedite his grand plan, except to watch.104 Arkan does indeed appear in the riot footage, dressed in a brown suit and standing on the athletics track near the substitutes’ bench. But his influence over the chaotic scenes on the South Terrace would have been negligible, even in the unlikely scenario that there was some kind of ‘grand plan’.105 The seeds of the legend were in place at a relatively early stage. By 1993, London’s Sunday Times earnestly reported that Maksimir ‘may have played a role in sparking the conflict’.106 By the twentieth anniversary, Serbia’s Vreme noted that in ‘modern Croatian national mythology, the incident at Maksimir . . . is proclaimed as the beginning of the homeland war’.107 Articles written in the context of this anniversary hint at the historical significance now imbuing the event. Using highly politicised language, Jutarnji list stated that ‘the majority of Croats are convinced that the physical division of an artificially established country began at the Maksimir Stadium’.108 Many Dinamo supporters share this opinion. In particular, the BBB embrace the idea ‘that the war in Croatia started on 13th May 1990’.109 Even those footballers who were present view Maksimir as pivotal, with Red Star’s Darko Pancˇev stating that at ‘that match the disintegration of a system and a country practically began’.110 The controversy surrounding Boban’s conduct illuminates the myth’s development. It is now a central tenet, but contrasting depictions in the days and weeks after the incident laid its foundations. According to legend, Boban’s actions were an open and deliberate gesture of defiance against Yugoslavia on behalf of a Croat nation that suffered repression and inequality. But this reading emerged over a significant period of time and passes over the nuanced context in which it occurred. While Boban became a hero for Dinamo supporters, his relationship with them was fraught before the riot. After the preceding game in Ljubljana, bellicose fans severely criticised Boban. Along with fellow player Andrej Panadic´ his personal safety was openly threatened:

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We recommend that [Panadic´] and Boban don’t walk alone in the city. We can’t guarantee them that they will remain in one piece. Before he boarded the coach, Boban halted on the steps, turned towards us and yelled: ‘I f*ck all of your mothers’. Well, thank you Boban . . . . Thanks and take care. . . Feel free to write that Panadic´, [Mladen] Mladenovic´ and especially Boban can leave Dinamo. Write that they betrayed Dinamo, the city of Zagreb, Croatia. If they want they can even go to Red Star111 During one of several post-Maksimir interviews, Boban explained that Ljubljana was a personal argument between himself and a supporter, rather than a falling out with the BBB as a whole: Therefore, newspaper articles in which supporters threaten me, say I betrayed them for all time and that I am not allowed to appear on the streets of Zagreb astonish me.112 Boban need not have worried. After his ‘heroic’ intervention, purportedly on behalf of Dinamo fans, all was forgiven. Supporters used the sporting press to ‘bury the hatchet’: We apologise to Zvonimir Boban for insulting him in Ljubljana in a bout of rage. He proved to be the true captain of Dinamo on Sunday. We are glad the Dinamo players finally understood what the team means to us, the fans; that it is not all about winning trophies, transfers, cars and petty interests. Dinamo amounts to more than football.113 Although one should not read too much into decisions taken in the heat of the moment, Boban’s explanation for his confrontation with the policeman evolved over time. Initially, he presented his actions as those of a club captain in defence of its supporters. There were also more personal motivations: the supporter Boban intervened to protect was a relative from his native Hercegovina.114 This was what prompted him to confront the police, but Boban claimed he would have intervened regardless: ‘I would act in that way towards every supporter, be that of Dinamo, Red Star or Hajduk’.115 Knowledge that the safety of Boban’s own kin was at stake adds another dimension. Moreover, clashes between players and police were nothing new. At the earlier Novi Sad incident, several Dinamo

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players – including Boban – confronted officers. Dinamo star Davor Sˇuker also had an altercation with a policeman during the Ljubljana debacle.116 Yet, Boban’s behaviour at Maksimir stood out as a result of television footage, heightened media coverage and exploitation by opposing national mythmakers and propagandists. Following the incident, Boban made no mention of any nationalist stimulus for his actions.117 In fact, he openly denied such motivations during a Tempo interview published under the title ‘I did not attack Yugoslavia!’ With his actions, Boban ‘did not attack the country, politics, nor – if you like – the police! It was simply . . . a personal clash between two people’.118 The press soon elevated the episode, however: Serbian newspapers used photographs of his retaliation to show the world how uncivilised this Croatia with aspirations of independence actually was. Politika placed the image on the front of its international edition, while Croatia’s Sport magazin noted that Boban’s ‘karate kick’ would serve to ‘erect a monument to him’ in the eyes of Dinamo supporters.119 Similar sentiments were echoed in Plus sport: After Zvonimir Boban stood in defence of the supporters last . . . Sunday, the past was forgotten and “He” again became what he had been before – the idol of Maksimir’s North Terrace . . . the official version is one thing, but that which is ‘written on the souls’ of Dinamo supporters is another matter entirely.120 It is in this ‘unofficial’ version, disseminated by supporters, journalists and others, in which Boban’s actions assume a crusading character and become a conscious patriotic act at a time of deep political hostility. Nationalist connotations were applied to the incident as the press analysed Boban’s admiration for Tud¯man and the HDZ long after Maksimir.121 Belgrade’s Politika emphasised his nationalist leanings by describing Boban as an ‘HDZ member by political affiliation and captain of Dinamo by team selection’.122 As time passed, Boban’s dropkick grew in importance. For the BBB, this ‘legendary jump on to the policeman marked the beginning of the fall of one state’.123 Within a few years, young Australian Croat fans in Sydney were depicting Boban as a hero: ‘The desired link in this interpretation is quite explicit – Boban is pictured as a Croatian soldier fighting the Serbian enemy in the form of a policeman’.124 Twenty years after the event, former Dinamo player Zlatko Kranjcˇar explained that ‘Boban’s attack on the policeman determined the road on which Yugoslavia would rapidly go

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down’.125 An earlier academic account added to the mystique by presenting the assault as a deeply political reaction against years of injustice at the hands of a Yugoslav police state dominated by Serbs: ‘When Boban came to the aid of his fellow Croats, he was not simply reacting to the actions of a single police officer but was symbolically challenging the legitimacy of the entire Yugoslav Federation’.126 Boban’s statements in the immediate aftermath contradict such interpretations. Another factor complicates this attractive symmetry: Boban’s opponent was by no means the ideal ‘enemy’ for the symbolically loaded myth – i.e. a Serbian officer. The policeman he kicked was a Bosnian Muslim called Refik Ahmetovic´.127 His identity was widely reported in the regional press, but this awkward detail is often downplayed in romanticised accounts. When questioned about his actions years after the event, Boban embraced the politicised veneer. He still insists that he was defending both Dinamo supporters and himself from the police, but he adds that ‘Croatian torment also gathered for years’: ‘I never wanted to take on some role as a hero, because I think that our soldiers are the heroes who carried out the actual burdens of war’.128 With this seamless blending of the riot and later conflict, the Maksimir myth is almost complete: the split-second reaction of an incensed young man against an overzealous police response has metamorphosed into the pivotal act of a freedom fighter turned war hero. Talking about Maksimir, the Croatian intellectual and human rights activist Zˇarko Puhovski told a football writer in the early 1990s that ‘You don’t need a century for this to become myth’.129 He was right. Although the domestic media have taken large steps towards deconstructing the legend in recent years, Maksimir continues to serve an important symbolic role in the former Yugoslavia.130 The extent to which legend has taken over from reality is demonstrated by a Croatian headline written for the twentieth anniversary. It declares that ‘Boban and the BBB defended Maksimir from Arkan and the Delije’.131 In this single line, all the elements of the myth are combined, with Boban and his army of Bad Blue Boys purportedly serving as valiant protectors of Croatia against the brutal attack of the warlord Arkan and his paramilitary Delije. In this way, the hooligan riot merges unproblematically with subsequent developments, and the brave footballer Boban is compared militarily alongside a man accused of multiple war crimes. This confusion of the historical timeline has been embraced by mainstream historical culture, but it drastically distorts Maksimir’s role in the outbreak of hostilities. Pa˚l Kolstø’s thoughts on foundation myths in the region are useful for understanding the position that Maksimir occupies. Talking about the more prominent cornerstones of respective national identities, Kolstø notes:

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The Croatian and Serbian martyrium myths in a sense feed on each other: they involve the same actors – the perennial Croats and the perennial Serbs – only their roles change: the butchers are turned into slaughtered lambs and vice versa.132 Maksimir fits the mould. Its divisive nature results in two very different representations of what took place. From a Croatian nationalist perspective, the aforementioned scenario – where the riot serves as the opening military assault upon the republic’s sovereignty – is elevated to a prominent position in the nation’s founding myth. The BBB present themselves as valiant defenders of the Croat nation, fighting against Serb aggression in this opening battle of the war. From a Serbian nationalist perspective, however, Maksimir and the propaganda that followed can be seen as a link in a chain that led to the eradication of Croatia’s longstanding Serbian community. In this reading, the prearranged riot is one of a series of interlinked developments: the 1940s rule of the genocidal Ustasˇa regime, Tud¯man’s election victory, Maksimir, the demotion of ethnic Serbs in Croatia’s revised constitution and the final cleansing of Croatian Serbs from the newly independent state in 1995. Even at the time, a Belgrade journalist used Maksimir to describe Tud¯man and his adherents – including Boban – as advocates of genocide and chauvinist ideas, which had previously been pursued via ‘execution sites, such as the Jasenovac concentration camp’.133 Though the Delije downplay their participation at Maksimir as a result of the Serbian military defeat that followed,134 the group also commemorate their dead from the 1990s wars through stadium choreography, murals and a commemorative shrine.135 Arkan’s Serbian Volunteer Guard, and the Delije members who participated in it, are an important part of their history. As we saw, Arkan did much to forge an alternative Serbian version of the myth at a time when the outcome of Croatia’s civil war was still unknown. *** Maksimir acquired greater significance because of a hostile political climate, exacerbated by Tud¯man’s election victory and resurgent nationalisms. Its severity was nevertheless vastly exaggerated. Although a number of contemporary commentators referred to Maksimir as the Yugoslav Heysel, nobody died in Zagreb, unlike the 39 victims of the earlier Belgian incident.136 Moreover, the riot was one of numerous nationalist fuelled clashes in Yugoslav stadiums at this time.137 Even taking a long-term view,

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chauvinist crowd behaviour, player misconduct and media amplification surrounding fixtures between these two teams were nothing new, with a track record of disorder stretching back to the first championship in 1946– 7. Major incidents also occurred in the absence of ethnic divisions, particularly during Belgrade derby matches.138 Therefore, although the riot constituted an escalation of tensions, it must be seen in the context of a wave of broader unrest afflicting Yugoslav football. The subsequent armed conflict immeasurably added to its mystique. The fact that supporters fought and died, and that Arkan had been present at Maksimir, ensured the incident passed into legend. Regardless of its veracity, the myth is an important part of the history of the Yugoslav game. Faced with this alluring myth about the end of the state and its cohesive competitions, it is easy to forget that the First Federal League, the Marshal Tito Cup and the reprezentacija limped on for an entire season before the outbreak of war.

CHAPTER 8 ON THE BRINK:THE 1990—1 SEASON

The socialist game contracted a mortal illness in the same environment where it had blossomed in the 1940s. In the intervening four and half decades, the modest Dalmatian town of Split had burgeoned into a thriving industrial city. Throughout, Hajduk stood as a source of civic pride, but its symbolic importance ensured it was never far from political turbulence. As club president between 1990 and 1992, Stjepan Jukic´-Peladic´ was involved in events that shattered the fragile unity of Yugoslav football. Born in 1935 in the shadow of Stari plac, he carved out a modest playing career. A promising youngster, he moved to Red Star’s reserves as his education took him to the federal capital. Like so many cash-strapped students, Jukic´ eased his situation via the ‘amateur’ game; a second-tier club offered him a scholarship and he embraced the opportunity to subsidise his studies. A blossoming scientific career brought Jukic´’s playing days to an end in 1962 and it was not until Yugoslavia’s twilight years that he returned to football in an honorary capacity.1 He walked directly into a storm. After Maksimir, football associations and clubs scrambled to prevent the disintegration of Yugoslav competitions. Simultaneously, echoing developments in the troubled political sphere, nationalist conceptions of independent leagues and ideologically purged clubs resurfaced, as politicians, teams and their supporters questioned the game’s socialist underpinnings. As debates raged over club identities and football’s airbrushed history, in summer 1990 one question preoccupied all involved: would the forthcoming championship conclude peacefully?

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Waning Star When Split’s mayor approached Jukic´ over the Hajduk presidency in that turbulent summer, the club, like the country, was mired deep in sporting, financial and political crises. As the Croatian Democratic Union (Hrvatska demokratska zajednica, HDZ) set about recreating Croatia in its own image, Hajduk returned from a highly controversial Australian tour. The mayor hoped that Jukic´ and other distinguished figures could reshape the club on ‘democratic principles’ amid the backlash against socialism.2 It was an opportunity to clear out seasoned communists from Hajduk’s hierarchy and replace them with figures less tainted by the outgoing political establishment. Yet the event that preceded these changes was far from democratic. In Australia, the players took matters into their own hands by unilaterally removing the red five-pointed star ( petokraka) from their shirts. Some of them saw the emblem – which replaced the Croatian ˇsahovnica symbol on the club’s white kit in 19453 – as a source of embarrassment on the distant continent, where Croat e´migre´s felt deep hostility for the collapsing socialist state. This was Hajduk’s first visit in 41 years. For many of Australia’s 100,000-strong Croatian community, which harboured nationalists committed to Croatian independence as well as smaller numbers of political extremists with fond memories of Ante Pavelic´’s murderous regime, this long absence was a deliberate communist ploy to exclude them. The fact that Hajduk’s players landed on Croatian soil within weeks of the HDZ’s election victory – which wealthy e´migre´s had supported financially – did nothing to dispel suspicions. Socialist Yugoslavia had an uneasy relationship with e´migre´s across the globe.4 Football provided e´migre´s with a means of expressing their ethnic identity, and clubs bearing the name ‘Croatia’ competed at the summit of the Australian game. Football had long provided immigrants with a means of confronting their ethnic ‘other’.5 In Yugoslavia, ruling communists and the media depicted these communities as hostile fascist and bourgeois remnants. For them, the ‘Croatia’ name carried by sports clubs was a symptom of nationalist extremism and anticommunism; for some Belgrade journalists, it was also a synonym for Pavelic´’s ustashism (ustasˇtvo).6 Hajduk’s tour did little to dispel these accusations, especially when the delegation was confronted with a portrait of the Ustasˇa leader hanging on the wall of the King Tomislav Club.7 In this environment, the petokraka’s lingering presence on Hajduk shirts was bound to attract attention, and its removal provoked a scandal across Yugoslavia. Journalists and officials were convinced the squad had been put

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under enormous pressure by their hosts. Hajduk’s technical director, who was in the stadium when the incident unfolded, explained that his players made the decision following an encounter with their Australian peers, the Torcida Sydney supporters’ group. The players painted a similar picture for reporters who accompanied them on the trip. Among other motivations, they acted to avoid criticism.8 Upon their return to Dalmatia, they were welcomed as heroes by the domestic Torcida. Hundreds greeted the team’s arrival at the airport with unfurled sˇahovnica flags and nationalist chanting. Back on Yugoslav soil, the players closed ranks. Their elected spokesman – captain Mladen Pralija – insisted they had acted in unison: We came to the decision unanimously and don’t feel even the slightest guilt because of it. I think time will show we were right. Our supporters welcomed this move, and it will probably receive a positive reaction in Croatia. The time of change has arrived and with this act Hajduk’s players have demonstrated to whom they belong and what they believe in.9 He denied any pressure from the e´migre´ community. The club as a whole was deeply divided. When news first reached Split, club officials stated that the team would face disciplinary measures and threatened to end the tour prematurely. Yet, by the time the squad returned to Europe any idea of punishment had been brushed aside. There was a sense that players had been used as guinea pigs to gauge the public mood by a prevaricating administration unsure of what to do about the divisive emblem: ‘If that public had “hit out” at them with attacks and condemnation, the club administration would definitely have done the same. As it is, nothing will happen to anybody’.10 Months before Hajduk’s departure, the plight of the red star was a matter of fierce debate within the club, Torcida and the broader Split public.11 It was placed on the agenda of the forthcoming annual assembly in the summer. The most promising solution was a proposal to combine the emblem of the pre-revolutionary Hajduk with that of its socialist successor: a red star placed over a sˇahovnica background. Such a badge had been produced for the 1971 jubilee during the Croatian Spring, only to disappear despite appeals to retain this compromise solution. By 1990, more militant voices stressed the need for a clean break with communism: The years of one party totalitarianism are, we hope, forever behind us. Whether you accepted it or not, for 45 years politics spread its

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tentacles into everything, including sport of course, and even ‘sketched’ badges and symbols in sporting environments. The red star, an ideological point of reference, made itself at home on every badge, every flag. . . . Clearly, the sell by date has expired.12 Accordingly, a return to the ‘historic badge’ of the 1911 –41 period was a means of righting a historic wrong. Torcida had been backing the team with sˇahovnica embossed flags – and increasingly, following the lifting of the ban, Croatian flags – for some time. Its members were among the fiercest critics of the lingering petokraka.13 Hajduk director and journalist Zdravko Reic´ was of the opinion that the socialist badge ‘should be thrown into the archive’: ‘I am aware there will be resistance, even in our executive committee, on which Bolsheviks – people who were deployed there by the [central] committee – are still sitting’.14 He was himself a communist. Immediately prior to the lucrative Australian tour, the club decided to market souvenirs with the pre-1941 emblem to e´migre´s. By contrast, in the contract signed with the e´migre´ promoters, Hajduk insisted on playing all matches with its petokraka badge. This contradictory behaviour sowed doubt in the team’s minds and ensured the emblem would be a bone of contention. Hajduk’s executive committee tried to ride the wave of democracy and nationalism, while hedging their bets over the petokraka’s plight. The rapidly evolving political situation exacerbated this uncertainty. The HDZ took their seats in the newly elected parliament on 30 May and many at Hajduk expected the government to order the removal of all socialist symbols. This did not happen.15 Several months after the incident – and after substantial changes in the club’s administration – player Igor Sˇtimac acknowledged he had been a prominent advocate of removing the emblem: We were embittered by the administration’s actions, which put us in an uncomfortable position. We had to go onto the pitch with a badge with the star on it, but for days before they were selling Hajduk souvenirs in Australia with the Croatian badge. We were insulted, because we were supposed to go onto the pitch with the star – to present Hajduk in that light – but all those behind it were able to hide in the stands.16 Before the annual assembly could have its say, Hajduk’s executive committee made the interim decision to continue without the star. The assembly was presented with a fait accompli. Once removed, it was hard to

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imagine an initiative to reinstate the petokraka over the sˇahovnica. For Reic´, although the socialist years deserved respect, the new democratic era was an opportunity to remove politics from sport. If the government eventually enforced the removal of red stars from flags and official emblems, ‘then, in time, our players might be assigned an historic role’.17 Far from removing politics, the Tud¯man era injected sport with a fresh dose of political interference.18 Alongside its national connotations, the heated emblem issue was also a matter of sporting and civic tradition. Writers and supporters stressed the club’s rich pre-1941 heritage, embossed with the sˇahovnica. Yet, using the same logic, by embracing the 30 years of pre-revolutionary history, those who called time on the petokraka disregarded 45 years of communist-era tradition. For those who took pride in Hajduk’s revolutionary role, the squad’s conduct was a betrayal: Hajduk’s act is disgraceful. I don’t know any details at all, except that the contract obligates them to play with the emblem. To remove that symbol, won in the war, when Allied aeroplanes dropped leaflets over Europe imploring people to notice Hajduk’s sportsmen, when the club’s brightest traditions were accomplished, when the occupier came and the administration unanimously decided not to play, to dissolve the club. . . Should this really be thrown away in such a manner, alongside the memory that footballers in white shirts with the red star on their chests sobbed when Comrade Tito died? Now we are discarding all that in the worst possible way.19 Members of those legendary wartime events voiced their dismay, former captain and Yugoslav international Frane Matosˇic´ among them: We must never forget we were the first to wear the [Yugoslav] tricolour, with the red star, the first to sing ‘Hey, Slavs!’ We were exceedingly proud of our country. Remember, I am a Croat, but also a Yugoslav. I don’t accept that anyone is a better Croat than I.20 Writing nearly a decade earlier, Andrija Krizˇevic´-Drina described Hajduk’s petokraka as the greatest trophy the club had ever won, which the contemporary generation of players wore with pride.21 In the jolting

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transition of post-socialist Croatia, Hajduk tossed that hard-won prize into the rubbish bin of history. Thousands of supporters in Yugoslavia’s other republics met the club’s actions with particular dismay.22 While Hajduk’s revolutionary pedigree gave its internal struggle an added edge, the demise of socialist symbols was commonplace. In the more liberal environment of neighbouring Slovenia, the state’s ‘sacred’ symbols and myths had been mocked by alternative cultural voices for much of the preceding decade.23 At Split’s maritime museum, even the ship that transported Hajduk-NOVJ through treacherous waters now stands denuded of the red star which once adorned its funnel.24 More broadly, the reformed League of Communists of Croatia distanced itself from the petokraka during the election campaign. Indeed, all of the ‘Big Four’ clubs considered abandoning revolutionary symbols and names in a process replicated at all levels of the game. By the beginning of the 1990 –1 season, Dinamo had removed the star from its emblem and its administration was planning to go one step further. Months before Maksimir, Zagreb’s sporting press explored the idea of a name change for the city’s flagship club.25 Prevalent across communist Eastern Europe, the ‘Dinamo’ name came under intense scrutiny. Writers worked to cast it as a foreign imposition unsuitable for post-socialist Croatia. The club’s magazine, led by editor Fredi Kramer, sought to present the Yugoslav era as a period when Dinamo had been persecuted precisely because it was Croatian: Kramer and his like-minded were really aiming at tying Dinamo’s identity to Croatian nationality as opposed to communism and Yugoslavism, by connecting it to pre-communist Croatian history. Kramer aligned this with the general ‘return to Croatian national history’ that characterized the early 1990s.26 Srd¯an Vrcan notes that, from this perspective, its persistence would have signalled ‘an unwanted survival of the detested old system, . . . that the systematic nationalist challenge to communism had not been sufficiently radical’.27 The team embarked upon the 1990 –1 season under the outmoded Dinamo name, but its days were numbered. Throughout the season writers revisited the glorious interwar past of outlawed Zagreb clubs and laid the groundwork for a rebranding.28 When the time came, political figures, including Tud¯man, would throw their weight behind the cause. Even in Belgrade, the fluid situation sparked an identity crisis. Like Dinamo, it was difficult to detach Red Star and Partizan from the revolution

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that gave birth to them. When an article appeared in Sportski zˇurnal in August 1990 suggesting Partizan was on the verge of changing its name and abandoning the petokraka, it provoked a fierce reaction. Impassioned pleas to reconsider arrived at the JNA (Jugoslovenska narodna armija, Yugoslav People’s Army) Stadium, and Partizan’s director swiftly distanced the club from these rumours: while it was in fashion to change things in the country, Yugoslav Partizan would buck the trend.29 Another official noted that ‘so-called political pluralism’ would not enable anyone to deny Partizan’s deep roots: ‘the club is tied to the Army and – while that is the case – it will retain its star in the emblem, its black and white colours, its Yugoslavism’. The multi-ethnic club was not for sale on the political marketplace.30 Neighbouring Red Star – about to embark on a remarkable European Cup run that raised the value of their brand across the continent – was also encouraged to consider a change of identity. Vojislav Sˇesˇelj, the political extremist who advocated a Greater Serbia, suggested the name ‘Cˇetnik’ would be an appropriate replacement. But, like Partizan, the club opted to retain both its name and its emblem. This did not mean that communism thrived at the club: senior figures at Red Star came up with the absurd explanation that the name was not ideological in any way, while others stressed that communists had not invented the red five-pointed star.31 A subsequent cosmetic change to the emblem added blue to the already present red and white to mirror the colours of the Serbian flag. In his choice of blue, the designer intended to invoke the proud Kingdom of Serbia from an earlier time.32 In much the same way, Partizan stressed the prevalence of resistance movements across Western Europe, and their collective struggle against fascism, as a way to downplay the communist content of its identity.33 The pre-communist history of the game loomed large in this reexamination. Proposed name and symbol changes for Croatia’s leading clubs were grounded in the interwar past, while some journalists returned to the dark days of the wartime Independent State of Croatia (Nezavisna drzˇava Hrvatska, NDH). It had been a taboo subject for 45 years. Zagreb’s Sport magazin ran a series of articles on sport under Pavelic´’s rule. Those behind the feature were well aware it was provocative, but they stressed the need to examine events ‘deliberately “swept under the carpet” for years’.34 Some readers were uncomfortable with this historical turn. One, from Split, voiced his concerns: I have been reading your sports weekly for a long time. It is a quality publication, but I think you made a mistake by publishing

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Figure 23 Socialist stars and Serbian double-headed eagles mingle at Red Star Belgrade’s stadium in the post-Yugoslav era. Author, 2009. the serial about sport in the NDH. . . . The first part had the almost cynical title ‘Sportsmen had their own camp too’, and it contains other details which have nothing to do with sport: for example, the photograph of A[nte] P[avelic´] that embellishes the whole article. In any case, the Olympic Games were not held in 1940 and 1944 precisely because of wartime atrocities and devastation, which is proof there was no time to think about sport. I assume that postwar sporting memories are still nicer and fresher, especially for that generation which witnessed the war.35 Another, writing from Germany, condemned the nationalist turn and coverage of Pavelic´: ‘Soon you will probably also recall the leader (Fu¨hrer), Stalin and other “crusaders” for world peace. Yes, my dear compatriots, you have fallen into the wrong rut. You are (or should be) journalists at a sport magazine, not a political one!’36 Fierce historical debates set the scene for the 1990 – 1 season. The First Federal League was another socialist-era edifice that came under fire from nationalists across the increasingly divided state. As the season progressed, alternative visions of football’s future were voiced on the terraces, in the press and in conference halls.

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The Enduring League Torcida are in full voice, the Dinaric Mountains rising sharply behind them. Rhythmic drumming reverberates around the Poljud Stadium, which basks in the last of the sun’s rays. A Yugoslav flag, a bright red fivepointed star at its centre, appears at the front of the terrace. Youths set fire to it. It is 2016, but this is an unmistakable reference to the events of September 1990. Today, nobody takes much notice, but at the time the scandal rocked Yugoslavia.37 As Hajduk and other First League clubs prepared for the season, the political situation deteriorated drastically. When the HDZ aired Croatia’s draft constitution in June, the republic’s Serbs found they were no longer a constituent nation: they had been demoted to a minority. Over the summer, Jovan Rasˇkovic´ – the moderate voice of Croatia’s Serbs – called for a degree of autonomy in his addresses to thousands of concerned kin. At the same time, more militant figures in the Krajina region had added a territorial dimension to these demands. Milan Babic´, dentist and mayor of the strategically important railway town of Knin, established the Association of Serb Municipalities. In July, a Serb Assembly convened and announced a referendum on sovereignty. Zagreb’s insistence that police needed to wear a new sˇahovnica-encrusted uniform was a sensitive aspect of the emerging rift. Citing past crimes, Knin’s predominantly Serb officers refused to do so. Adamant the sˇahovnica flag should never fly over Knin castle, Babic´ contacted the federal president and interior minister in Belgrade to explain that ‘under this flag our fathers, our grandfathers and our nation were murdered’.38 On 17 August, just before the Croatian Serb referendum, Zagreb tried to use force to restore order in restless parts of Dalmatia. Serb leaders in Knin and other local towns rallied the population. Policemen distributed arms and barricades were thrown up using felled logs. As JNA jets scrambled to intercept Croatian helicopters, a column of Croatian armoured vehicles never reached Knin: the operation was called off by a Croatian Interior Ministry fearful of the potential reaction from Belgrade and the JNA. This ‘Log Revolution’ was a success for the Knin Serbs. Barricaded off from HDZ ruled Croatia, they were now assured of Belgrade’s support. This small community received clandestine arms deliveries throughout 1990. On the other side of the barricades, Tud¯man’s Croatia armed itself via secret shipments from Hungary. In these circumstances, the new season kicked off in early August. Dalmatia’s clubs were at the sharp end of the political crisis. Particularly at lower reaches of the game, this growing divide threatened to derail football. The emerging borders of Serb-controlled Krajina cut across competitions at

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the regionalised fourth and fifth divisions and also threatened to disrupt the travel arrangements of those participating in the federal leagues. As rival Serb and Croat parliaments sat in different parts of Croatia, football was one of the few spheres of Dalmatian society where the two national groups still met on a regular basis. The southern section of the Croatian Republic League pitted clubs from across the region against one another. Journalists, players and supporters were among those stressing the national identities of participant clubs. Out of sixteen teams, Zagreb journalists branded Dinara Knin and Velebit Benkovac as ‘Serb’, with the remainder coming under the ‘Croat’ umbrella. Several of the latter would subsequently fall under Serbian territorial jurisdiction. Nevertheless, Dinara’s players – including its Croats – were adamant that nationalist politics did not divide them. The team had been subjected to nationalist abuse during away visits in the previous season, but in August 1990 they stressed that relations with other clubs were generally cordial. While Dinara’s administration fought to avoid nationalist politics, they grappled with the same dilemma faced by other teams: whether or not to remove the petokraka from their badge. Making light of the situation, Croatian journalists noted that the new emblem certainly would not include a sˇahovnica.39 As the season progressed, it became ever more difficult for Dinara’s league to operate. At the game’s summit, uncertainty surrounding Yugoslavia’s survival cast a dark shadow over a game reeling from the fallout of Maksimir. Belgrade journalists tried desperately to put a positive spin on the debilitating political impasse: Will we have a federation or a confederation in future? That is already an object of conversations and meetings. The new constitution will provide the most reliable answer. It has to. But, regardless of the geopolitical map of Yugoslavia, football will continue to be one of the strongest unifying forces we have (it must be this way).40 Clubs and the FSJ (Fudbalski savez Jugoslavije, Football Association of Yugoslavia) discussed the hooliganism of the previous season, and the attempts of political parties to win groups over to their respective causes. Many players, officials and commentators voiced concerns, including Hajduk’s Sˇtimac: At every turn we hear the league will never finish, that the championship will be abandoned, but it looks as though it must be

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this way when our politicians are in charge of sport. We sportsmen are powerless. Even among us are those who think the league will not have a happy ending. There is lots of disorder in stadiums, the stewards are weak: wilfully in some places, involuntarily in others . . . . In such circumstances the vast majority of us don’t want to stick our necks out.41 The new FSJ president, Slovene Marko Ilesˇicˇ, stressed the need to remove politics and hate from the game.42 At the same time, high-risk matches involving Serb and Croat clubs were heavily policed. From the outset, supporters indulged in the verbal abuse characteristic of the previous season. The term ‘communist’ served as an unforgivable slur, used in anger against opponents and unpopular club administrations, while ethnic insults featured regularly on match days. NK Rijeka’s Armada belted out ‘Rasˇkovic´ is crazy!’, and a group leader declared they hated the Delije most, ‘because of what is happening in Knin’. He was adamant about the group’s right to sing provocative songs: ‘If those in Knin are allowed to sing cˇetnik songs – and shoot while doing so! – I don’t see why we can’t’ sing odes to the Ustasˇa.43 Dinamo’s first visit to Belgrade since Maksimir – to face Partizan – was low-key. In the absence of away fans, the home supporters chanted nationalist songs and denounced the opposition as ‘Ustasˇe’. When Hajduk travelled to Hercegovina to face Velezˇ Mostar, Torcida created a scandal in the multi-ethnic Bosnian town by chanting ‘This is Croatia!’44 Yet despite these provocations, the championship initially unfolded relatively peacefully. Then, in late September, the First League exploded. Dalmatia was the obvious breaking point: Poljud was the stage, Torcida the protagonists. The season was less than two months old, but Hajduk were already having a torrid time. Political tensions and the dire economy ensured only local supporters would witness their game against Partizan. The most fanatical Grobari attempted to travel, but they were frustrated at Belgrade station, unable to afford the fare in the sole carriage: a sleeper car. In Split, rumours spread that Red Star fans from Knin planned to attend out of ethnic solidarity. A Torcida ‘welcoming party’ laid in wait for the Belgrade train and the city’s police department ensured the railway station was patrolled throughout the day.45 But it came to nothing. In the absence of supporting ‘others’, the Partizan team – that bastion of Yugoslavia and the JNA – had to suffice. Preparations for the high-risk encounter began several days prior to kickoff. Hajduk President Stjepan Jukic´-Peladic´ recalls that the FSJ’s head of

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Figure 24 The Dinaric Mountains rise behind Torcida at Split’s Poljud Stadium. Author, 2016. security, General Popovic´, came to discuss measures and ensure the ground was searched for explosives. The initially cold and formal meeting eased considerably when Jukic´ mentioned his happy years as a student in Belgrade. Both men were well aware of the mood of Croatian national feeling within the perpetually volatile Torcida. Consequently, it came as no surprise when the group’s flares forced the referee to pause the game for several minutes in the first half. On the pitch, Partizan were superior and raced into a deserved early lead before a crowd of 20,000. As sˇahovnica flags swirled above the massed Torcida, the group demanded a ‘Croatian League’ and sang odes to the fascist NDH and Sˇime Ðodan, a Croatian Spring martyr who had re-emerged as a political figure.46 Those watching from other parts of the ground could see the foreboding mountains in the background. Thoughts of barricades, armed civilians and political paralysis could not have been far from their minds. Then, in the 71st minute, the representatives of the Yugoslav People’s Army doubled their lead and the mood soured. As Torcida’s leaders orchestrated chants of ‘We’re going on the pitch’, members scaled the fences and jumped down onto the athletics track below. Stewards and police stood motionless as hundreds of youths charged onto

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the field. The referee abandoned the game and joined the Partizan players running for the safety of the changing rooms. Neither were the target of the onrushing rabble. Instead, the latter made their way to the far end of the stadium where the Yugoslav tricolour, with its proud red star, waved above the pitch. The chants gained in intensity: ‘Take down the flag!’ As the flag was lowered on the mast, new instructions were issued from the other end of the ground: ‘Burn the flag!’ The majority of Torcida, who remained on the north terrace, greeted each successful demand with jubilation. As the tricolour burned, assailants ran it back up the flagpole.47 It was impossible to resume the match in these circumstances and spectators gradually dispersed, only to continue their ‘celebrations’ on the streets outside. In scenes reminiscent of both Maksimir and the unrest of 1970, the rioting Torcida attacked cars and buses and torched the kiosks of Slobodna Dalmacija and Borba. In an almost festive atmosphere, passengers waved Croatian flags from car windows.48 Back in the stadium, officials and journalists struggled to make sense of it all. For Jukic´, the events of that September evening were among the most difficult he had faced during his presidency: ‘I was in a terrible situation as the president. The TV presenter came to me to make an interview. But what can I speak about at the interview? You don’t know. You have no information’.49 In the days following the incident, newspapers across Yugoslavia carried interviews with the shaken president. Reporters latched onto his condemnation of Torcida: I can’t even say all I think; obviously, youth under the influence of alcohol and drugs caused the incident. While some are building relations, tolerance and friendship, these vagrant youths are destroying them. And who is going to protect us? The police, sociologists? How?50 Others at Hajduk and Partizan, as well as Split’s political leaders, shared Jukic´’s dismay. The visiting coach, Milosˇ Milutinovic´, captured the mood: ‘To say they are hooligans would be too mild. I fear it is only a small step before the first victims fall in stadiums. Football is being murdered’.51 The day after the game, Jukic´ addressed massed ranks of journalists at the Poljud. As far as his board were concerned, the club had taken all possible measures to ensure the match would take place without incident. He stated that the behaviour of youths across the country was caused by serious socioeconomic problems. Faced with widespread disorder, clubs were powerless and incapable of fulfilling competitive obligations. When reporters probed

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Torcida’s political motivations, Jukic´ was adamant that Hajduk was not involved: ‘We’re isolated from political indoctrinations. We play football and Hajduk is our political party’.52 Jukic´’s colleague, the prominent academic Ivo Petrinovic´, president of the club’s assembly, disowned militant fans: We don’t need them. Democracy is one thing and anarchy is something completely different. For example, the question of future leagues (Yugoslav or Croat): that is something to sit down and talk about in a civilised manner, not by coercion, with shouts from the terraces. Then there is the attitude towards flags. They are something sacred that must not be insulted. . . . Only Hajduk is damaged by all of this.53 The highest echelons of the Yugoslav government also reacted. In a session chaired by Prime Minister Ante Markovic´, the Federal Executive Council discussed the incident alongside the dire political and economic situation in Kosovo. The council condemned the desecration of the state flag as a criminal offence that necessitated an urgent investigation and the punishment of perpetrators.54 Elsewhere in the federal capital, journalists noted that Split’s supporters were masters at provoking scandals, especially when Belgrade’s clubs visited at times of political tension: in 1950, 1970 and, now, in 1990.55 Other more extreme voices fashioned a direct link between Torcida’s excesses and the horrors of the NDH. From this warped perspective, these ‘storm troopers’ were ‘just another warning that the ghosts of the past, which left nothing but execution sites behind them – like Jasenovac, Gradina, Golubnjacˇa – have not been finished off’. The prevailing HDZ politics in the troubled western republic were the incident’s indispensable context: ‘the politics of insanity, which employs all means to achieve its goals, including genocide’.56 In contrast, certain Croat voices understood Torcida’s behaviour as noble and patriotic. For the Kasˇtel branch of the Croatian Peasant Party (Hrvatska seljacˇka stranka, HSS), the flag burning placed Torcida among a rich pantheon of Croatian patriots. Football was a legitimate target: Yugoslav sport competitions and the JNA are the final firm bulwarks of Yugoslavia. Hypocrites [Gospodo licemjeri]! In Kosovo, Albanian children are dying of hunger, innocent blood is being shed, and in Croatia we witnessed . . . Knin. And now the dulled conscience has again been awoken by Torcida, with the chanting of

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‘Croatian League’ and the burning of the symbol of the 70-year prison of the Croatian people, for which they received the support of 20,000 in the stadium. Something similar happened in the Croat lands [in 1895], in the city of Zagreb, when youths burned the Hungarian flag, symbol of the captivity of the Croatian people of that time. Are the latter expelled to the ninth circle of hell today, or do we celebrate them? . . . Hypocrites! After the federal presidency’s statement about the events in Knin and Jasenovac, and after the simultaneous silence about Albanian victims in Kosovo, can anyone condemn the act of burning the Yugoslav flag at the Poljud? No, because the flag symbolised the martyrdom of the Croatian people, and we no longer accept it as our flag57 Cast in this light, Torcida stood as modern freedom fighters, to be praised alongside nineteenth-century national heroes. The ruling HDZ condemned the incident. Croatian Vice-President Ante Vrdoljak dismissed Torcida’s barbaric behaviour, noting that even foreign flags are sacred to someone. Nevertheless, Vrdoljak harnessed this condemnation as a weapon against Croatian Serb rebels. In the process, he reduced the latter to the status of mindless hooligans. Now everyone is worried that 200 hooligans entered Hajduk’s stadium and prevented the match from continuing. The whole of Belgrade is seething because of that. But this entire summer the roads towards Dalmatia and Zagreb were closed: there were barricades on the roads, armed youths. In question are the same such uneducated mob as that which ran onto the pitch: misguided and persuaded just like this one. We must not exclude the possibility that there was also manipulation here, just as in Knin. However, it wasn’t viewed in this way. Rather, the president of the state received representatives of such people. What is the difference here? If there is a difference, it is only that these took firecrackers into the stadium, and these others rifles and machine guns. The country is losing a sense of perspective, but the big question is whether it is being lost or deliberately disregarded?58 However political figures spun this incident, everyone agreed it was another watershed for Yugoslav football.

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Mario Garber, the Split journalist and writer who, even after Maksimir, had been one of the fiercest advocates for the First League’s continuance, now changed his mind. Following Poljud, it was only a matter of time before the inevitable abandonment of the championship. Torcida had disrupted the match because they were bent on securing a Croatian League and no longer wished to participate in the federal competition. Fan violence prevented clubs and the FSJ from conducting a safe championship and this lack of consent would be fatal: Yugoslavia, between secession, federation and confederation, can have endless conferences and choose between various democratic or administrative outcomes, but I don’t know how a football championship can be played by force, or amid violence. Those two alternatives are the only ones left for Yugoslav football: either football in a cage or football abandoned.59 Garber reluctantly accepted that the quality of Croatian football would have to suffer: After 13 May at Maksimir I wrote that I didn’t really believe in the appeal of a potential derby match in the Croatian League: Primorac v Hajduk in Stobrecˇ. A few months have passed since then and it seems I am now of a different opinion. Not because I don’t have a stance. The game is not played primarily for my benefit, but for the majority, and it appears the stance of the majority is to play in a Croatian League, and not the First Federal League. Well, in that case, let’s do it. After all, the abolition of the First Federal League is a lesser evil than the loss of lives in stadiums.60 The FSJ punished Hajduk by forcing the club to play four home matches in other cities.61 At the same time, on FK Sarajevo’s initiative, club administrations from across Yugoslavia came together in search of a solution to debilitating hooliganism and nationalist excesses. Relations between Hajduk and Partizan remained cordial. Days after the incident, Hajduk travelled to Zemun, on the outskirts of Belgrade. There, players were greeted with applause and bouquets of flowers.62 While gestures like this illustrated that clubs and players were capable of collaborating through the crisis, the major supporters’ groups took no notice. In Rijeka, Red Star’s visit provoked another ugly incident.63 The league limped on after the Poljud flag burning, but it was degenerating into a farce.

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In the political sphere, Yugoslavia entered its death throes in spring 1991. Faced with mass demonstrations against his rule, Slobodan Milosˇevic´ willingly used force against his own people. With JNA tanks on the streets of Belgrade, Slovenes having voted overwhelmingly for independence in a December 1990 referendum and heightening tensions in Croatia, lingering hopes of preserving Yugoslavia began to dissipate. In March – by which time the federal presidency had ceased to function – Milosˇevic´ declared that ‘Yugoslavia has entered into its final phase of agony’.64 Its football competitions had done the same.

The Last Final It is the most striking object among hundreds of items. The metal flames that lick its star-embossed bowl give the impression of an organic form. In every free space the names of illustrious clubs are engraved, alongside the proudest years of their histories: Partizan – 1947, Vardar – 1961, Rijeka – 1978, Velezˇ – 1981. . . As the most iconic physical reminder of Yugoslav football, it is fitting that the Marshal Tito Cup has its final resting place in Hajduk’s trophy hall. The club that the Marshal devoted so much attention to won his trophy on nine occasions. By the last of these, the bloodshed that characterised Yugoslavia’s disintegration was underway. By spring 1991, the Croatian Serb rebellion had escalated into a pitched battle with police units. The first casualties fell over the Easter Weekend, when a clash at the Plitvice National Park left one dead on each side. Further south, the Croat-majority village of Kijevo was surrounded by Serb-occupied territory, while Croat-owned businesses were blown up in the rebel stronghold of Knin.65 The unrest also spread to the fertile plains of Slavonia in the north-east of the republic, where competing nationalists clashed, erected road blocks and made night-time travel all but impossible. It was here, just over the Danube from Serbia, where a game-changing incident occurred on 2 May. Borovo selo, a settlement on the outskirts of Vukovar, had a Serb majority. Croatian extremists fired rockets at its buildings in April and a Croat police patrol entered Borovo’s tense streets under cover of darkness on 1 May. They intended to raise the sˇahovnica flag, but were greeted with gunfire. Local Serbs seized two of them. The following day, the Croatian authorities dispatched a busload of raw police recruits to rescue the prisoners and restore order. They were massacred. With twelve dead and over twenty injured, a shocked President Tud¯man addressed his nation. He spoke openly of civil war and the dangerous coalition of Serb ‘cˇetniks’ and the JNA. Tud¯man, who had discussed a

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The Marshal Tito Cup at the Poljud Stadium in Split. Author,

Yugoslav confederation in the weeks prior to this tragedy, now rallied Croats against unscrupulous internal and external foes: if those who encouraged this terrorism do not come to the conclusion that terrorism has to stop, that the legality of the Croatian government should be recognised, that the crack-brained

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objective to create a Greater Serbia from Croatian territory should be rejected, then, using all means . . . we know how to settle accounts with terrorism. We know how to defend every inch of Croatian soil.66 In contrast, the Serbian government blamed the incompetent Croatian authorities and their security forces. Yugoslavia’s rotating presidency – including Croatia’s Stjepan Mesic´ – met two days after the incident and attempted to resolve the crisis. It authorised JNA intervention to separate Serbs and Croats in contested areas. Over the following week, Hajduk were scheduled to play two matches: a league game in Osijek, just 35 kilometres from the scene of the massacre, and the Marshal Tito Cup Final against Red Star in Belgrade. The violence cast a long shadow and left Hajduk with a dilemma as to how to react. For President Jukic´, Borovo signalled that war was near. A number of Croatia’s lower league clubs announced that, out of respect for the victims of Serb ‘terrorism’ and in solidarity with Tud¯man’s government, they would not fulfil weekend fixtures. Heated discussions took place in Split and Osijek. Slobodna Dalmacija’s Reic´ was adamant. With Croatia ‘under threat of occupation, when the civil war has effectively begun’, this was no time for football: After everything that has happened it must be clear to everyone that sport is finished. Terrorist attacks, destructive incidents, raids on the houses of innocent people, guerrilla warfare, shooting and explosions, dead and wounded, frightened and disillusioned, infuriated and resolute. And then, as an absurd appendix: a battle for points? No chance!67 The FSJ and HNS (Hrvatski nogometni savez, Croatian Football Association) wanted to continue. Even at this stage, when it was unclear whether the First League would survive the season, Hajduk’s officials worried about a potential points deduction and the threat of relegation if they failed to play. The club changed travel plans to avoid tense areas of eastern Slavonia, but their route took them via Belgrade airport. The squad were checked into the Split departure lounge when they received news that Osijek’s mayor had cancelled the match. It came as great relief, but the imminent cup final loomed ever larger, with just three days to go. Hajduk’s Czechoslovak player, Jiri Jeslinek, had seen enough. He refused to play in the midst of civil war, packed his bags and returned to Prague.68

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‘President Stjepan, we are not going to Belgrade’. This was the stance of Hajduk’s talented young squad. Several of them – including Robert Jarni, Alen Boksˇic´, Igor Sˇtimac and Slaven Bilic´ – would become stars of the European game. But in spring 1991, despite a long season coloured with nationalist excess, the players were gripped with fear and consternation.69 As they expressed misgivings about the symbolic implications of playing Red Star for the Yugoslav Cup against the backdrop of Borovo, Hajduk’s leadership searched for a solution. They fought tirelessly for a postponement. Even in sporting terms the stakes were high. Red Star had already secured European football, so Hajduk’s participation in the final guaranteed a lucrative opportunity to represent Yugoslavia in the Cup Winners’ Cup. The Croatian government and HNS were determined to carry on: neither wanted to give Belgrade a pretext for action. Hajduk was paralysed with indecision. Then the president of the club’s assembly had an idea. Professor Ivo Petrinovic´ knew Croatia’s federal presidency member, Stipe Mesic´, personally. President Jukic´ convinced his colleague to make a call: I said, ‘Ivo, be so kind and call the president’. A voice responded in Belgrade: ‘Hello, who is there?’ Ivo said: ‘This is the Hajduk office. We would like to speak with president Stipe Mesic´.’ A lady, the secretary, responded: ‘Are you stupid?! Do you know how many critical meetings Stipe Mesic´ has with all the republican representatives in the presidential meeting in Belgrade, about the war? About whether Kadijevic´’s army will enter Croatia?’ . . . We said: ‘Be so kind, let the president know that Hajduk is calling him.’ After the interval pause . . . Mesic´ said: ‘Hello, who is that?’ We said: ‘It’s Jukic´ and Petrinovic´, Hajduk.’ ‘What do you want?’ I said to the president: ‘We know that a couple of days ago our policemen were killed in Borovo selo. There is consternation among the Hajduk players. And in two days we have to play the Final against Red Star in Belgrade. We don’t know what to do. . . . To come, or not to come to Belgrade?’ ‘You should come. You must come to Belgrade’, Mesic´ said. ‘I am your guarantee that nothing will happen to the players.’70 With the backing of Yugoslavia’s vice-president, the club decided to travel. Hajduk flew to Belgrade on a military transport, under JNA protection. The day before departure, Split was rocked by mass demonstrations. Forty thousand people gathered before the regional JNA headquarters to

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demand an end to the ‘siege’ of Kijevo and the relief of its isolated Croat inhabitants, as well as the opening of all roads in the republic. Chants rang out against the army of ‘occupation’: ‘Serbian army, pack up and leave!’ Demonstrators also demanded weapons. As they stormed two armoured vehicles in front of the building, a hapless young Macedonian soldier was murdered and another badly injured. In places, the chanting deteriorated, as cries of ‘NDH!’ rang out.71 Throughout the day, Croatian police strove to prevent a direct clash between civilians and the army. These events piled more pressure on Hajduk. To make matters worse, two players suffered personal tragedies prior to the game: Mili Hadzˇiabdic´ lost his young daughter in a car accident in his native Mostar, while Darko Drazˇic´ mourned his father’s death.72 What transpired to be the last Marshal Tito Cup Final was a miserable affair. On that chilly May evening, the gloomy JNA Stadium was clouded even further with Yugoslavia’s biting political and economic woes. Red Star’s supporters’ thoughts were already elsewhere – their team’s eagerly awaited appearance in the European Cup Final was under a month away. Moreover, the prevailing tensions prevented Hajduk’s supporters from travelling to Belgrade. Just 7,000 witnessed this state occasion. More indicative of the mood was the fact only 1,500 of them paid for a ticket. Hajduk played with black armbands. In the lounges high above the pitch, Jukic´ and his colleagues told their Belgrade counterparts this gesture marked team members’ personal losses. Nobody doubted that it was also motivated by the Borovo massacre.73 Although there was little crowd unrest, the game was not without incident. Reprezentacija members Igor Sˇtimac and Sinisˇa Mihajlovic´ were sent off. Mihajlovic´, of mixed Serb and Croat parentage, claimed his Croat opponent had said, God willing, Mihajlovic´’s whole family would be slaughtered in his native Borovo.74 Though the game was overshadowed by politics, relegation-threatened Hajduk triumphed over their European Cup finalist opponents. Amid the political instability, this Yugoslav occasion was televised across the country. A Bosnian Muslim referee oversaw Serb and Croat clubs with multi-ethnic teams. Vasil Tupurkovski, Macedonia’s member of the federal presidency, took a break from intense negotiations on the state’s future to present the venerated trophy.75 Hajduk flew home to troubled Dalmatia later that evening. In the arrivals hall, they were welcomed as heroes much as they had been on their return from Australia. They partied into the night, as hundreds gathered beneath the Poljud’s floodlights to celebrate a politically charged victory. An aged supporter declared ‘Hajduk played for the whole of Croatia this

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evening’. The club received telegrams from across Yugoslavia. Among them were congratulatory messages from besieged Kijevo villagers and President Tud¯man.76 Nevetheless, for Stjepan Jukic´-Peladic´ the achievement owed more to another president. At a time when ‘Great Croats’ hogged the limelight, the republic’s overburdened member of the federal presidency was not overly popular. Yet, as far as his namesake at Hajduk was concerned, the Marshal Tito Cup had become the Cup of Stjepan Mesic´ thanks to his role in the whole affair.77 Split’s jubilation was short-lived. Less than 2,000 witnessed Hajduk’s next match, a relegation clash against Sarajevo. As the end of a poor season approached, distracted supporters were unsure whether it was appropriate to celebrate. The team paraded the cup before massed empty seats.78 This was its last public appearance for some time. When war broke out, Tito’s trophy was hidden amid fears it would be stolen. For all the stress Hajduk’s footballers endured, their dilemmas paled in comparison to those facing Dalmatian players further down the league pyramid. In the inter-republican, republican and Dalmatian leagues, teams were expected to travel to hostile territory to fulfil fixtures. Without the luxury of presidential guarantees and military air travel, smaller clubs were at the sharp end of the nascent conflict. The Borovo massacre caused chaos. Fearing for their safety, clubs were reluctant to cross barricades. Dinara Knin and Velebit Benkovac faced constant disruption during the season’s final months, which were marred by cancellations.79 Some Croatian clubs announced their early withdrawal from competitions. Val (Wave) Kasˇtel issued this statement: Val Football Club is withdrawing from further competition in the Dalmatian Football League – Central Group until the rule of law is established in the Republic of Croatia: until normal conditions for life, work and the holding of sports competitions are secured. This is a symbol of support for the leadership and government of the Republic of Croatia, to stand in defence of our only homeland, this Croatia of ours [lijepa nasˇa]. While cˇetnik elements threaten our Croatia and the democratically elected government, we do not consider it appropriate to hold sports competitions. Rather, we should carry out preparations for the defence of the homeland.80 The day after the Cup Final, Dalmatia’s lower league clubs gathered to decide whether to continue the season amid rising danger. The options included carrying on as planned and keeping disruption to a minimum, a temporary freeze of league football or the immediate abandonment of

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competitions. National confrontations were not the only threat. In the hilltop town of Klis, a visiting coach threatened the host president with a pistol because of poor refereeing decisions.81 Nevertheless, the leagues battled on. Games involving clubs across the barricades became a matter of intense negotiation. Orkan (Hurricane) Dugi Rat were scheduled to travel to Knin over the weekend of Croatia’s independence referendum, in the second half of May. Hosts Dinara ensured their safety and representatives arranged to wait at an intervening station so they could complete the journey together. The gesture came to nothing: of the six fixtures scheduled for that weekend, only three were played.82 Developments in the political sphere mirrored those on Dalmatia’s pitches: in a poll boycotted by most Krajina Serbs, Croats voted almost unanimously in favour of independence.83 Exasperated by the situation, Neretvanac Opuzen decided to take a stand. The club belonged to the Inter-Republic League – South, a competition encompassing teams from Croatia, Montenegro and Bosnia & Hercegovina. In a public letter to the HNS, its presidency outlined their distressing experiences: the Croatian flag was burnt in front of them, as police watched on, during a visit to Zavidovic´i in Bosnia; they played to a soundtrack of Serbian nationalist chanting in Montenegro; and then came the event which prompted the letter: following a league match in Zenica, the team’s bus was shot at. A bullet passed through the vehicle, piercing windows on both sides and narrowly missing two players. The dangers of crossing Croatia’s barricades were also putting clubs at risk. Neretvanac was unwilling to take responsibility: Who will persuade youths to go and play? Who will guarantee their safety? . . . Should we wait until someone is killed before we suspend competition? . . . This is neither sport nor football any longer. This is war, and we don’t want to go to war or get killed unnecessarily. If we are going to fight and get killed, then we will do so in defence of our homeland, not die while playing a treacherous and cowardly sport, by ambush under cover of darkness. . . . We won’t play matches outside the Republic of Croatia until we receive a written order from the HNS in Zagreb: then you will assume the responsibility.84 Like others, Neretvanac’s league did not conclude until mid-June, just ten days before Slovenia and Croatia declared independence. Nevertheless, a slight improvement in conditions towards the end of May enabled

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postponed matches to be played. Even Dinara and Velebit returned to action after weeks of frustration. But these leagues were in disarray by the close of the 1990 –1 season.85 First League club supporters who were unwilling to miss away matches encountered similar difficulties. As in the previous season, Dinamo fans bound for Split had to run the gauntlet of hostile Serb police and civilians in Knin.86 Elsewhere, members of Vojvodina’s Red Firm regularly crossed republican boundaries and makeshift roadblocks in eastern Slavonia: in that last season – 1991 . . . we went everywhere, but there were problems . . . the police would stop us. We went to Osijek and Tuzla also, and the police stopped us – turned us back. We didn’t see the game. There were approximately 50 who wanted to go everywhere, it didn’t matter that the situation was dangerous – the only problem was the police.87 Players at the summit of the game were spared such difficulties. When Red Star travelled to the Maksimir Stadium for the first time since the previous season’s riot, Tud¯man and Mesic´ were in attendance. Again, there were no away fans. Again, runaway champions Red Star lost to weaker Croatian opposition.88 Yet the Belgrade club was on the verge of sporting greatness.

The Last Hurrahs They deserve a place of honour and a large picture on the wall, which even time will not taint as yellowed, old-fashioned, outmoded, from some distant age at the end of the crazy twentieth century. Zvezda revija, June 1991 The giant photograph shows signs of age. Mounted in a golden frame, it captures the proud 1991 team posing with the European Cup on the sundrenched pitch outside. The route to the final took the team and hundreds of Delije via Zurich, Glasgow, Dresden and Munich. When Red Star hosted Bayern for the semi-final, the Marakana Stadium creaked under the weight of 100,000 spectators. The final took place on the other side of the Adriatic, in Bari. Red Star’s opponents, Olympique Marseille, boasted stars of world football among their ranks, including Dragan Stojkovic´. The Yugoslav Champions also had a formidable line-up. Assembled with the best players

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from across the country, it encompassed footballers from five of Yugoslavia’s six republics.89 Over 15,000 travelled westward for the game. As 55 flights departed Belgrade, over 100 buses and hundreds of cars boarded ferries to Italy. Those watching at home could see that supporters hailed from every corner of Yugoslavia. Dozens of flags tied to railings displayed the origins of their owners: Zagreb, Novi Sad, Titograd, Knin, Benkovac, Obrovac, Prizren, Nisˇ, Maribor, Skopje, Vukovar, Trebinje, Tuzla. . . Tempo thundered: ‘Who says that Yugoslavia no longer exists!’90 Many of these places, with sizeable Serbian populations, were on the verge of war. Large contingents descended upon Bari from the rebel towns of Croatia. Nearly 500 of them were from Knin.91 It was clear to viewers that Red Star was a flagship of the Serbian nation above all others. The most striking element of the Delije’s choreography came when a 180-square metre Serbian flag passed over the heads of massed spectators. The four Cyrillic ‘S’s at its centre – the acronym of ‘Only Unity will Save the Serb’ – sent a clear message to the scattered nation. While the Belgrade press lauded much of the nationalist symbolism, cˇetnik iconography and flags bearing the image of Drazˇa Mihailovic´ provoked condemnation.92 Red Star eventually triumphed in a nervous penalty shootout, as the Macedonian Darko Pancˇev scored the decisive penalty. In this way, Yugoslav football’s finest hour came less than a month before the state fell apart. In the ensuing celebrations, Serbian team members made the Orthodox salute as they posed with the trophy.93 In the city where Hajduk-NOVJ proudly sported the petokraka-embossed Yugoslav flag on their shirts for the first time, Red Star revelled in a triumph clothed in Serbian nationalism. As thousands of jubilant supporters departed for home, brass bands struck up songs from the Serbian repertoire on the decks of ferries.94 On the streets of Belgrade, the party lasted long into the night. Republic Square, which had reverberated to the sounds of anti-Milosˇevic´ chants, exploding teargas canisters and clattering tank tracks back in March, now staged a different gathering. Thousands abandoned television screens and came together with banners, flares and song. They waved Serbian flags from the windows of Yugoslav-made cars and clambered up onto trolleybus roofs. As odes to Red Star and Serbia filled the night sky, others scaled the equestrian monument to Prince Mihailo Obrenovic´. A ruler of Serbia after the uprisings of the early nineteenth century, this historic prince had a Serbian flag thrust into his hand once again. The same patriotic songs that accompanied ferry passengers leaving Bari blasted out of tinny car stereos while youths performed traditional folk dances in the middle of the square.95

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Figure 26 The legends of 1991 look down upon visitors to Red Star Belgrade’s stadium. Author, 2007. Serbian President Slobodan Milosˇevic´ laid on a reception for the returning heroes. They posed together for photos as the president conveyed bland thoughts about the importance of sport. He admitted he knew little about football. When Red Star’s director, Vladimir Cvetkovic´, presented

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Milosˇevic´ with a shirt so that in future people would know which team he followed, the ever-opportunistic president replied: ‘To be honest, I supported Red Star even before this’.96 In truth, even many of those whose affections lay with Partizan celebrated the achievement of their fiercest rival.97 Journalists gushed about Red Star’s broader unifying qualities: The final days of May confirmed in the best possible manner that Red Star has the strongest [political] ‘party’ in the country. All the national, political, economic, cultural and other divisions could not reduce the joy of Yugoslavs after Star’s triumph in Bari. People from across our country delighted in the greatest success in Yugoslav football’s history. They celebrated all night in Belgrade, Titograd, Novi Sad and Sarajevo, but also in Pristina, Skopje, Ljubljana, Zagreb. . . . That May evening everyone was united under a single red and white flag!98 Many did indeed celebrate, but given the tensions of the day and the paraphernalia that provided the backdrop to the final, the victory of such a forthright symbol of Serbian identity brought little joy to large swathes of Croatia, Kosovo and other tense regions. In many respects a Yugoslav achievement, the win added fuel to the flames of resurgent Serbian nationalism. Another multi-ethnic team, the reprezentacija, also enjoyed successes on the international stage during this post-Maksimir season. The 1980s had been barren: the team disappointed at the 1982 World Cup and 1984 European Championships before failing to qualify for either of these competitions in the second half of the decade. But, in the summer of 1990, coach Ivica Osim led Yugoslavia to a fifth-place finish at the World Cup in Italy with a run that ended in a penalty shootout against defending champions Argentina. Jubiliation greeted this remarkable achievement back home, especially in multi-ethnic Sarajevo, where thousands flooded the streets in celebration.99 Once again, not everyone was ecstatic. In Croatia in particular, the relationship between football supporters and the national team had been deteriorating for some time. With the ‘Big Four’ groups divided along national lines, it is hardly surprising that their often chauvinist behaviour influenced perceptions of the reprezentacija. When Yugoslavia hosted Italy in a friendly match in Split in April 1988, thousands of ‘home’ supporters whistled over the Yugoslav anthem before verbally insulting players.100

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National divisions and the financial crisis slashed the number of supporters who were both willing and able to travel to Italy, but the Yugoslav public had the opportunity to watch the team prior to departure. Ironically, the last preparatory match on home soil was played at a Maksimir still bearing the scars of the May riot. The Yugoslav team had enjoyed the support of Zagreb’s citizens the previous autumn, but the political situation was now very different. As Yugoslavia and the Netherlands lined up for the anthems, spectators waved Dutch and Croatian flags. ‘Hey, Slavs!’ was drowned out by whistling from the crowd, many of whom supported the visitors throughout. Prior to kick-off, Captain Faruk Hadzˇibegic´ rallied his team: ‘Come on, it is us 11 against 20,000. Let’s go!’ The squad had unsuccessfully asked for the game to be moved, fearing the reception that awaited them. Yugoslavia’s second city had become a hostile venue. The national team coach’s biographer captures the mood: At the end of the match Ivica Osim sarcastically gestured to the public his congratulations on their support. If until then there was any doubt, at that moment it became crystal clear that Ivica Osim was taking to [the World Cup] . . . orphans without a country. They were seen off with the sneers of those for whom Yugoslavia no longer existed.101 The Belgrade press was outraged: ‘the citizens of Zagreb hated everything that is Yugoslav. The atmosphere in the stadium resembled an antiYugoslav rally’.102 In Italy, hundreds of touring Yugoslavs cheered on the team. Most Croats boycotted the finals, but Serbian groups and members of Bosnia & Hercegovina’s multi-ethnic organisations – including Mostar’s Red Army – attended the matches.103 Safet Susˇic´ – regularly subjected to chants of ‘Safet, you Turk!’ in the domestic championship prior to his transfer abroad – was one of the stars of a squad with a large Bosnian presence.104 After Italia ’90, Sarajevo became a safe haven for the reprezentacija, offering tumultuous support until the state’s violent collapse.105 Yet it was also in Yugoslavia’s central republic where the resilient defeat against Argentina triggered most unrest. In western Hercegovina, with its large Croat population, the result sparked a ‘football war’.106 In celebration of Yugoslavia’s performance, supporters from the multi-ethnic town of Cˇapljina piled into cars with Yugoslav flags. As they sang patriotic songs, the convoy made its way to Ljubusˇki, a Croat-majority town some twenty kilometres to the north. Sarajevo’s Oslobod¯enje reported that the group were

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attacked en route ‘by a mob of 500 who burned the Yugoslav flag and stoned many cars’.107 In contrast, a Croatian report denies this ever happened. Regardless, there were violent clashes when the revellers arrived in Ljubusˇki. An HDZ rally had been planned in the town and, although authorities had banned the gathering, large numbers of Croat nationalists remained in cafe´s. The Cˇapljina revellers alleged these HDZ adherents had celebrated Argentina’s victory. Local inhabitants countered by questioning the motivations of the large group that had spontaneously appeared to wave flags, insult inhabitants by calling them ‘Ustasˇe’ and sing Yugoslav and proSerb songs. HDZ supporters may well have provoked them earlier in the day by driving through Cˇapljina with provocative party paraphernalia.108 Irrespective of the veracity of these competing claims, in parts of the country the national team was clearly a divisive rather than a unifying force. Perhaps understandably given their hostile send-off, Osim and his squad did not wish to fly back to Zagreb from the tournament. Instead, their plane flew to Belgrade via Dubrovnik.109 By the end of 1990, football supporters in the Croatian capital had a national team of their own. Although not recognised by football’s international governing bodies, a Croatian representation played a friendly match against the USA in October. The atmosphere was markedly different from Yugoslavia’s debacle against the Netherlands. It was a state occasion, which coincided with the return of national hero Ban Jelacˇic´’s statue to Zagreb’s central square. President Tud¯man revelled in his role as patron. For him, the game marked the resumption of Croatia’s international football tradition while contributing to the republic’s prestige.110 One of those who played in the red and white checkerboard kit on this symbolic occasion recalls the president’s electric entry: It was as if everyone had gone mad out of happiness; the behemoth of the Maksimir Stadium groaned under the cries of ‘Franjo, Franjo’. Antun Vrdoljak, then vice-president of the Republic of Croatia, stood on the pitch . . . . He announced Tud¯man’s arrival once again . . . . All hell broke loose. It lasted for five minutes. The match had already kicked-off and the people shouted ‘Franjo, Franjo’ from one terrace, and ‘Croatia, Croatia’ from the other. We heard the echo ‘Franjo, Croatia, Franjo, Croatia.’111 Later, the militant crowd’s thoughts turned to the Serb rebellion: ‘Let’s take Knin, we’re not giving up Croatia!’112 It was an important moment in Croatia’s quest for political and sporting independence, as well as in

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Yugoslavia’s demise. But the HNS remained part of the FSJ. Moreover, the most talented Croatian footballers, including Zvonimir Boban, continued to play for Yugoslavia until May 1991, when the squad’s painful disintegration began. By then, even crowds in Belgrade whistled over ‘Hey, Slavs!’ and demanded its replacement with the interwar Kingdom’s anthem.113 Away from the spotlight of the reprezentacija, the game served as a unifying force until the end. The 39th edition of Rijeka’s Kvarnerska rivijera youth tournament took place at the end of June 1991, as both Slovenia and Croatia declared independence. Alongside clubs from across Yugoslavia, the organisers welcomed competitors from Italy and Austria. The event was overshadowed by the outbreak of war, as the JNA moved to secure Yugoslavia’s external borders in response to Slovene secession. Despite distressing television footage from the neighbouring republic, the Italian and Austrian teams stayed until the end. The ‘ten-day war’ paled in comparison to conflicts in Croatia and Bosnia, but left 52 dead – mostly JNA soldiers – and resulted in Belgrade’s swift recognition of Slovene independence.114 As the JNA’s half-hearted actions succumbed to a rapid defeat, the club of the Yugoslav People’s Army – Partizan – won the Kvarnerska rivijera. Olimpija Ljubljana’s young footballers, who also took part, found themselves stranded, initially unable to return to their stricken republic. Nevertheless, the organisers kept tradition alive in the face of debilitating economic and political constraints. For them, while the performances of Red Star’s youths were tainted by indiscipline, Partizan was the deserved victor. Neither of these Serbian clubs would set foot in Rijeka again for a long time.115

Disintegration The words ‘Yugoslav Sports Society’ still encircle the communist red star. In turn, the word ‘Partizan’ – written in both Cyrillic and Latin script – wraps around them, while six flaming torches of Yugoslavia’s republics burst from the top of the weathered emblem. Embossed on a fountain at a half-forgotten entrance, this relic is located away from the main gates of the JNA Stadium. This is not the ground’s official name but, like the symbols that adorn the walls, it clings on tenaciously in the vocabulary of Belgrade’s inhabitants. This colossal monument to Yugoslav physical culture was not discernibly different in the first days of August 1991. Partizan were scheduled to open their league campaign with what ought to have been a routine home fixture. There was nothing remotely routine

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about the beginning of the 1991 – 2 season. Slovenia, the most affluent and ethnically homogenous republic, had seceded amid violent scenes. Neighbouring Croatia, having declared independence on the same day, continued its descent into armed conflict. Football was slow to react. NK Olimpija’s home city was now the capital of an independent state – one already recognised by Belgrade – but the club wanted to remain in the Yugoslav First League. The fixture list dictated that their first match would be against Partizan, in the heart of their former federal capital. Olimpija’s ambiguous situation was symptomatic of the chaos surrounding the league and the FSJ in that fraught summer. Since spring, the terms ‘secession’ and ‘disassociation’ were used ever more frequently in the sporting sphere.116 As an organisation that mirrored the federal state, political deadlock incapacitated the FSJ. The constituent Croatian and Slovene football associations – the HNS and the NZS (Nogometna zveza Slovenije, Football Association of Slovenia) – pressed for wholesale reform; both wanted to reconstitute the FSJ as a loose confederation, much as their respective politicians hoped to restructure the ailing Yugoslavia. The Croats proposed an orderly dismantling of the FSJ, with each national association emerging as a sovereign entity. The latter could then freely decide whether to enter a new confederal relationship, which would more closely resemble what the FSJ was supposed to be: ‘an association of all associations’. Echoing the divisions of the late 1930s, HNS president Mladen Vedrisˇ outlined why this was necessary: We have had enough of majority voting, the manipulation of votes. We can no longer tolerate a non-existent impact on personnel politics. The treatment of our clubs is ruinous. A single final for the Yugoslav Cup, always played in the same city, is an imposition we are unable to accept. Neither can we reconcile with the manner and ratio in which national team selectors, managers, coaching staff and administrators have been appointed, from World War II to today. In future a colonial relationship is absolutely unacceptable!117 Vedrisˇ stressed that ‘disassociation’ did not mean withdrawal and that the Croats were interested in a ‘marriage’ based on genuine partnership. A key objective was to secure separate international recognition for member associations. Again, this did not necessarily mean the end of the Yugoslav game: precedents existed in the United Kingdom and Denmark for multiple FIFA-recognised associations in a single political entity. Many

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Croatian clubs supported the initiative. Hajduk’s motivations for doing so were partly prompted by the Poljud unrest: ‘our supporters have said what they think by interrupting the match with Partizan’.118 The FSJ’s loathed ‘majority’ consistently rebuffed such proposals. Faced with a stalemate, the HNS clandestinely approached FIFA in a bid for membership. When football’s international governing body sent its response directly to the FSJ, relations soured further. The FSJ’s Croatian general secretary, who knew nothing of the application, found himself in a particularly sensitive position. As with states seceding from the Soviet Union, FIFA was not prepared to extend membership to Croatia without political recognition, or permission from the FSJ.119 When the Croats stepped up efforts to achieve recognition, claiming direct lineage to the FIFA-recognised association of the Ustasˇa era, the Belgrade press went wild. For the HNS, this lineage justified their bid to be admitted to FIFA, as the wartime association had never officially resigned. For Belgrade, this was confirmation that Tud¯man’s project was a resumption of Ante Pavelic´’s brutal fascist regime.120 Domestically, the Croat and Slovene associations pressed for a reorganisation of the federal leagues. Their favoured ‘disassociation’ option envisaged a First League divided into eastern and western sections. Clubs from Serbia, Montenegro and Macedonia would participate in the former, with members of the latter drawn from Croatia, Slovenia and Bosnia & Hercegovina. An overall Yugoslav champion would be crowned following a play-off.121 Other, more radical alternatives also emerged. One proposal, offered by Dinamo’s coach, envisaged the establishment of an ex-Habsburg league, consisting of clubs from Croatia, Slovenia and Austria. Perhaps more realistically, the two seceding republics also considered the formation of a Croat – Slovene league, for which there was historical precedent.122 All attempts at reform foundered on the FSJ’s voting structure. As in the political sphere, Croat and Slovene delegates could not pursue their proposals against the will of the majority. When the FSJ presidency met in the Vojvodinian town of Subotica in May, delegates concluded it was inopportune to make changes to the organisation: disassociation was not up for discussion, the FSJ was not prepared to consent to any of its members joining FIFA and UEFA, and the presidency would not recommend any alterations to federal competitions. The HNS proposal for a two-group championship was thus rejected. The presidency was unwilling to act before the conclusion of a political settlement on Yugoslavia’s future. Moreover, the other six associations favoured a unified First League, although the Bosnians wanted to discuss the matter further. Croatian representatives were

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not present in Subotica. In a telegram, Mladen Vedrisˇ explained he would not attend for ‘security reasons’: tense eastern Slavonia stood between Zagreb and the venue. Colleagues mocked his absence, quipping that the HNS president was ‘scared of assassination’.123 Forcing the issue, the presidency announced that all clubs wishing to take part in federal competitions needed to confirm by 17 June. In this atmosphere, Belgrade journalists questioned the sincerity of Croat and Slovene attempts to disassociate from the FSJ: Put simply, it is the same scenario as in politics: Slovenia and Croatia publically declare themselves in favour of secession . . . but they go out of their minds to cling on in order for Stipe Mesic´ to become president of a country still called Yugoslavia! In the same way, in a recent poll asking whether they still want to play in a united league, it did not occur to anyone to propose football suicide: that is, to separate. Therefore, we have no alternative: in the new championship we will play together!124 Senior figures at Croatia’s leading clubs were lukewarm about secession. Even at the end of May, Vladimir Zajec, Dinamo’s technical director, thought a self-contained Croatian League was unlikely: ‘If there is disassociation, there will be a new association. Let’s say, a league of Slovenes, Croats and Bosnians. I don’t know, Macedonians, and so forth. Among other things, why wouldn’t we also come together with Serbs?’125 Yet the major stumbling block to the First League’s survival in a post-Yugoslav world was that both FIFA and UEFA required prospective member associations to demonstrate control of clubs operating on their territory. A national league was the principal means of doing so.126 This was always going to favour separate competitions in seceding republics. Slovene Marko Ilesˇicˇ headed the FSJ’s rotating presidency during this turbulence. This body was scheduled to meet in his native republic at the beginning of July, but the outbreak of war prevented the gathering. Ilesˇicˇ proposed the FSJ freeze its activities for the duration of the conflict. He wrote to both FIFA and UEFA, stating he was unable to perform his duties. Simultaneously, the NZS broke off relations with Belgrade and the HNS rallied in support of their Slovene neighbours. Vedrisˇ called for the cancellation of federal competitions for the entire season, to enable seceding republics to gain international recognition. Yet, Ilesˇicˇ’s conduct provoked outrage among the presidents of the other constituent associations, who deemed his correspondence with international bodies an abuse of power.

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Within days, the absent president’s proposals were rejected, he was temporarily relieved of his duties and efforts were underway to clarify the situation with FIFA and UEFA.127 Under the caretaker stewardship of a Montenegrin stand-in, the FSJ hardened its stance towards secessionist members. On 11 July, the presidency gathered in Sarajevo. Croatian proposals for a moratorium were rejected. Instead, delegates decided that the season would kick off over the first weekend of August, regardless of the deteriorating political – and increasingly military – situation. The fixture list, containing teams from all six republics, appeared in the press. If Croat clubs refused to participate, the FSJ was prepared to start without them. Lacking international recognition, the Croat and Slovene bodies were in a difficult position. Withdrawal from Yugoslav competitions would result in isolation. In particular, Croatia’s leading clubs would forfeit their right to compete in Europe. Despite the FSJ’s unwillingness to accommodate the proposals of their stricken western members, the Sarajevo meeting agreed to hold crisis talks before the annual presidency and conference gatherings, scheduled for Belgrade at the end of July.128 The HNS and NZS reluctantly came together with representatives from the Football Association of Yugoslavia on the shores of the Adriatic. In Rijeka, where youth teams from the divided factions had competed weeks earlier, they made a final, fraught attempt to reconcile differences. The Croats repeated demands for a regionally divided league, as well as a delayed start to the season. For them, competition at the second and third tiers was impossible given the escalating conflict. The FSJ’s representatives gave the impression they sympathised: the Croats and Slovenes, including Ilesˇicˇ – still officially president of the organisation he faced across the table – were given reassurances that the Belgrade Conference would revisit these issues. They agreed to attend in the hope of breaking the deadlock. All those engaged in talks already had plans for competitions that excluded the clubs of their interlocutors, but the calm atmosphere suggested there might be one last chance to compromise and – at least temporarily – save the FSJ. Under the circumstances, an agreement to bring delegates from across Yugoslavia to Belgrade was no mean feat.129 Delegates gathered for the FSJ presidency meeting on 26 July against a backdrop of escalating violence. On the same day, ten Croat policemen and seventeen civilians were murdered in a Croatian village.130 The conciliatory tones of Rijeka were swiftly forgotten. Having made a commitment to attend, Croat and Slovene members, including Ilesˇicˇ and Vedrisˇ, stayed away. HNS Secretary Dusˇko Grabovac represented them.131 The absent

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Ilesˇicˇ was officially ousted as president, while all proposals emanating from Croatia and Slovenia were rejected. There would be no delay: the first and second leagues would start as planned at the beginning of August. As in 1939, officials from the east of the country lined up to criticise the behaviour of their dissatisfied western colleagues. Sˇpiro Vukovic´, Serbian President of the Union of First Federal League Football Clubs, bellowed: They want to smash the unity of football in Yugoslavia at any cost, and because of that they tender proposals without rationale or explanation. The most honourable course of action would be for the HNS and NZS – to revise their thesis – to freeze themselves and withdraw from competition. They constantly bombard us with proposals and blackmail, and make it impossible for us to carry out regular activities. They will not succeed in derailing the fixture list.132 Nevertheless, to facilitate a smooth championship in unstable conditions, the FSJ proposed some minor alterations: clubs could forfeit two games and play as many as they liked away from home. Such generosity was ridiculed in Croatia: Theoretically, if all visiting teams use their right to capitulate matches (because that is preferable to playing in fear of bullets), NK Osijek could win all its home games 3 –0 by forfeit. From the competitive angle, what kind of championship are we talking about in this case?133 Regardless of such discontent, the Conference moved on to other issues: whether to maintain penalty shootouts for drawn matches, whether to reduce the age at which players could move abroad and whether the cup final should be a two-legged affair.134 The critical decision as to whether Croat and Slovene clubs would remain in Yugoslav competitions would be taken elsewhere. Croats were outraged. War casualties were mounting across eastern Slavonia and fighting was underway just a few kilometres from First League Osijek’s stadium. Grabovac announced the HNS would attempt to ‘internationalise’ the situation by appealing to FIFA and UEFA. In the meantime, his organisation called another crisis meeting. When representatives of Croatia’s first, second and third tier clubs gathered at

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Maksimir three days before the start of the season they unanimously resolved to withdraw. They instructed the HNS to make plans for Croatian competitions, which would begin as soon as the political situation allowed. Although the Maksimir Riot has come to be viewed symbolically as the end of Yugoslav football, this little-discussed meeting at the same stadium was the moment when Yugoslavia’s federal competitions ceased to exist. Belgrade had forced the hand of Croatian clubs.135 Rijeka journalist Orlando Rivetti summed up the prevailing attitude towards the ‘Aggressor League’: To put it mildly, the attempt to organise competition in the federal leagues, to create the impression that ‘sporting life’ goes on, is pure provocation. No! In Croatia, the war against the aggressor is everyday life: a sport that, unfortunately, the young – and not only them – have to play. . . . The ‘Yugoslav League’ will be played without Croatian clubs because topflight teams from Osijek, Zagreb, Split and Rijeka can’t and don’t want to play. It will be entertainment for the eastern part of the Balkan peninsula, ‘from Triglav to Ðevd¯elija’, but it is no longer the First Federal League. Because, without Croatia and Slovenia, the FSJ . . . can no longer exist.136 The day after the Maksimir meeting Belgrade’s sporting press thundered: ‘Croats Gone!’137 Journalists queued up to attack Croatian clubs, the HNS and the republic’s politicians. The meeting had ‘turned into a political rally’: The national football championship did not start as expected on the first Saturday of August. In Croatia, under the Ustasˇa-like politics of Tud¯man’s HDZ, they are playing brutal war games in which the Serbian population is suffering. It is suffering exactly because it is Serbian. And it is logical that those who are not in a position to guarantee the Serbian population the most basic level of civil peace, simply were not ready to think seriously about what was discussed within the football organisation of Yugoslavia. And so, in place of football [games], our summer is filled with ‘war games.’ 138 For these commentators, the Croatian proposal to divide the league into two territorial groups was the worst possible outcome: ‘Are there no Serb

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inhabitants in Bosnia & Hercegovina? No clubs in which players of Serb nationality play? They would be just as endangered in Osijek and other places, and perhaps most endangered in Zagreb itself, by the Ustasˇa-like supporters!’139 The same publication that accused the Croats of insincerity in voicing a desire to secede, now accused them of having never seriously intended to remain.140 A game of cat and mouse was underway. Neither the FSJ nor the HNS wished to be cast as the intransigent party by FIFA and UEFA. The FSJ could not be seen to expel Croatian teams, while the HNS did not want to give the impression of unilateral withdrawal. The consequences for both were potentially severe: they included sporting sanctions and expulsion from European competitions. The latter was a concern to both parties, given that Red Star were European champions and Croatia’s leading clubs had qualified for Europe. As a result, both made ostensibly conciliatory statements. The FSJ delayed kick-off for a week to give the Croats time to reconsider; the HNS stated its clubs were not withdrawing, but also were not in a position to compete. As in the political sphere, Bosnian representatives worked to engineer a compromise.141 In truth, both the HNS and FSJ had made up their minds. When a new fixture list was published, the Croats were no longer part of it; teams from the remaining republics took their places. Yet, one name stood out above all others.142 The Slovene association’s stance was broadly similar to that of their Croat neighbours. By the end of July, the NZS had upgraded the existing Republic League – a fourth tier competition until that point – making it the highest competitive level in the newly independent state. Slovene clubs from Yugoslavia’s third tier withdrew to join their compatriots. By contrast, the republic’s biggest club opted to remain among the Yugoslav football elite: Olimpija’s first team voted nine to four in favour of this course of action.143 From a sporting and financial perspective, the decision was logical. The Slovene League would be poor in quality and lack the necessary crowds to pay players’ wages. Moreover, many of its footballers hailed from Yugoslavia’s other republics. Still, uncertainty shrouded the Bezˇigrad Stadium. On the opening weekend of the season, Olimpija had a fixture clash. Alongside the First League trip to Belgrade, the club had arranged a friendly against former First League rivals NK Rijeka. The fact that the Croatian club actually travelled to Slovenia only to be informed that their hosts had opted to fly to Belgrade highlights the indecision that crippled Olimpija at this time.144 At the eleventh hour, Olimpija also backed out of the match at the JNA, opting to become the 21st member of the bloated mediocrity that was the Slovene League. In Belgrade, no one was

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surprised.145 As artillery roared across the plains of eastern Slavonia, the united First League died. Another fixture list emerged, as Slovenia’s last representative bowed out of Yugoslav football. The Bosnian clubs reluctantly played on, despite having voted against reconstituted federal leagues cleansed of Croatian teams. Financially, they were in no position to boycott competitive football.146 In the FSJ, as in the political sphere, six republics in effect became four. *** On the day of Croatia’s declaration of independence, Dinamo abandoned the name bestowed upon it by communist founders. The ‘new’ title, HASˇK – Grad¯anski, was an outright rejection of communism and socialist Yugoslavia. It harked back to Zagreb’s leading interwar teams, both forcibly disbanded in 1945. According to the club, Dinamo had not disappeared: ‘only the name, which wasn’t ours, Croatian, bourgeois . . . . It was a Bolshevik fabrication’.147 This symbolic return to the pre-communist era was an attempt to negate four and a half decades of what were now depicted as imposed rule. The great irony was that it was a return to an equally divided Yugoslav past, when relations with Belgrade had been every bit as fraught. The Bad Blue Boys were implacably opposed to change from the outset. Contrary to the idea that it was a symbol of foreign communism, Dinamo was a sacred part of their Croatian identities. The BBB’s entire history was entwined with the club and their shared resistance to Belgrade hegemony.148 The imposed name change provoked a decade-long confrontation with Tud¯man and the HDZ, ensuring that even after the demise of Yugoslavia the game continued to be fertile soil for political disputes. At Hajduk, the same battle over Croatian identity left the club riven by infighting. Days after the Marshal Tito Cup victory, the annual assembly of 1991 was a bad-tempered affair. Among those condemned as ‘weak Croats’ for their conduct – including the decision to play the final – was Ivo Petrinovic´: that same individual who was a banned name in our city for twenty years and who, with his books about [Frano] Supilo, [Ante] Trumbic´ and [Natko] Nodilo, made an exceptional contribution to the study of Croatian political thought. But that means nothing to the new Croats, who don’t comprehend anything, or they comprehend that ‘Croatianhood’ is the fastest means of obtaining a position in this

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time of pronounced national sensitivities. In that rush, human destiny, merits, achievements, biographies, morality – or some higher aims and common benefit – are of no concern.149 Brought into the club to aid the democratisation process, Petrinovic´ and Jukic´ were powerless in the face of nationalist politics. By the time ‘Tud¯manists’ swept them aside in winter 1992, Hajduk were champions of an independent, if war-torn, Croatia. Despite attempts to whitewash it, the team’s relationship with the past was complex and nuanced, as Jukic´ notes: ‘Hajduk as a club is a historical monument for Croatia. But all those new recruits don’t know tradition’.150 The club’s rich anti-fascist and Yugoslav history was a major part of that neglected tradition. Moreover, this process was replicated at clubs and organisations across the disintegrating state. Everywhere, nationalism reigned supreme. Moderate voices, in sport as in politics, struggled to make themselves heard. Almost without exception, Yugoslavia’s elite clubs – and not only the elite – embraced new roles as potent symbols of prevailing nationalist politics. In Belgrade, the FSJ degenerated into a loyal adherent of Milosˇevic´’s politics, while the seceding republic associations aligned closely with their own governments. The war ended any hope of holding football together. Socialist Yugoslavia was dead. The battle for the spoils had just begun.

CHAPTER 9 FOOTBALL ON THE FRONTLINES, 1991—5

Like so many residents of the short-lived Republika Srpska Krajina (Republic of Serbian Krajina, RSK), a Serbian state carved out of Croatia in the early 1990s, Zlatibor Sladic´ now lives on the outskirts of Belgrade. During the communist era, Sladic´ flourished as a footballer thanks to stable employment on the railways: Knin’s defining industry that made a nondescript Dalmatian backwater strategically significant. He was a Dinara regular during the 1980s when his team battled it out at the third and fourth tiers of the Yugoslav game.1 Knin was 85.5 per cent Serb, but Serbs and Croats mixed freely at the club. As Croatia moved towards secession and war enveloped the republic, however, this little town became the rebel capital of the Croatian Serbs. Alongside its newfound political role, provincial Knin served as the sporting centre of the infant state. A humble ground, unremarkable for Sladic´’s generation, was elevated to the status of national stadium, while Dinara became a puppet in a four-year state building tussle. Throughout Yugoslavia’s demise, the Football Association of Yugoslavia (Fudbalski savez Jugoslavije, FSJ) fought a tenacious rear-guard action, losing territory at every step. Belligerents on all sides battled to establish new football fiefdoms from the wreckage (see Map 5). In places where inheritance claims overlapped, these bitter struggles mirrored ongoing military campaigns. As some political projects failed, incipient football leagues, cups and teams were among the victims. Yugoslavia’s violent disintegration impacted upon every club in the ill-fated state, from tiny Dinara to mighty European Champions Red Star. Big clubs captured the headlines, but some of the game’s minnows played a role in shaping the conflict and the postsocialist future.

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Western Secession Independent Croatian football took its first tottering steps on the northern shores of the Adriatic. Within days of their withdrawal from the Yugoslav leagues, Croatian clubs looked to the future amid the chaos of escalating conflict. NK Rijeka took the lead. The club organised a tournament for the stricken republic’s four established First League teams, to be held over three weekends in the relative safety of Rijeka, Zagreb and Split.2 This pre-season competition could be curtailed if an improved political and military situation enabled a Croatian league to commence. Hajduk, HASˇK – Grad¯anski (the rechristened Dinamo) and NK Osijek joined hosts Rijeka at their stunning Kantrida Stadium over the weekend of 17 August 1991. Largely forgotten, ‘Trophy Novi List’ – patronised by the Rijeka-based daily newspaper of the same name – marked a new era for the Croatian game. The first day started with a minute’s silence for victims of the war. Organisers had high hopes of attracting big crowds and arranged for some matches to be televised, but their expectations were dashed: 2,500 watched Rijeka play HASˇK – Grad¯anski, while just 500 witnessed the tournament opener between Hajduk and Osijek.3 Osijek’s

Figure 27 The Kantrida Stadium, Rijeka. The setting for Croatia’s inaugural competition. Author, 2015.

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mere presence was remarkable. The city from which the club takes its name is situated on the Drava River, in eastern Slavonia. By the end of August, it was mired in war as Croatian Serbs, paramilitary units and the JNA (Jugoslovenska narodna armija, Yugoslav People’s Army) carved out vast swathes of the surrounding plains.4 Its isolated citizens lived in constant fear of shelling. The conflict had a direct impact on Osijek’s first team, as talented players found arrangements abroad. Serbs like Milan Maricˇic´ departed east. Having grown up in a Serbian village in Slavonia, he spent 12 years as a professional at the club. He was team captain at the outbreak of war. When the JNA started shelling the city, Maricˇic´ and his fiance´e fled to Belgrade. There, he made arrangements with FK Rad (Work). Nevertheless, despite provocative questions from the Belgrade press, the fact that his parents’ house had been razed by the ‘Ustasˇa’, and that his father was fighting on the battlefield, Maricˇic´ praised his former club. Nationalist politics had never been an issue and he was convinced that NK Osijek had received orders from Zagreb to abandon the Yugoslav First League: My club Osijek has absolutely nothing to do with everything I have endured. In fact, us players wanted to compete. Impatiently, we awaited Radnicˇki Nisˇ in the first round . . . . We believed football and sport would triumph over irrational politics. All of us footballers shared this opinion, regardless of national and religious affiliation . . . . Listen: as long as I live, I will say Osijek is a wonderful city, that – as a player – I spent 12 of the best years there, that the people are wonderful, that I will never forget our supporters. What is happening now is done by extremists, different people, who – fortunately – I have never encountered.5 The team that took the field in Rijeka was full of inexperienced youths, eleven standard players having departed.6 At the Zagreb portion of the tournament, coach Ivica Grnja bared all: Osijek is surrounded on all sides. Still, we came! The lads have left their girlfriends, parents and loved ones, and they are uncertain whether they will be able to return at all and, if they return, what hardships await. My brothers are on the battlefield, in fighting ranks . . . . In such a state of mind it’s difficult to think about football, but we are playing in the hope that we will ride out this period of

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crisis. Not far from our stadium wretched shells are falling; we hear their rumble while we train . . . what if someone is killed while training? It’s hard to put that psychosis into words.7 ‘Trophy Novi List’ concluded in Split at the end of August. Hosts Hajduk lifted the cup, before just 1,000 spectators. The published table underlined the new situation to readers. Croatian clubs had participated in an exclusively Croatian competition, laying foundations for the domestic game. The lack of negative phenomena on the pitch – that is, rough play, biased refereeing and political pressure – led observers to conclude they had glimpsed a bright post-Yugoslav future. The absence of ‘fan terror’ fuelled utopian musings: ‘everything unfolded in a sporting, correct, and cultured manner. Precisely that sparks hope that the imminent league ought to adopt such “fair play” mannerisms. Understandably, it won’t flow entirely smoothly . . . but one should nevertheless hope there won’t be such stimulus for the passions and violence of old habits’.8 This optimism was misplaced. Croatia’s clubs engaged in a tireless cycle of friendly matches in the first months of conflict. The war’s contours resulted in a disproportionate amount of play on the Istrian peninsula and in the Rijeka region. Clubs from frontline areas spent long periods on the Adriatic coast. Osijek and Cibalia (formerly Dinamo) Vinkovci found a series of temporary homes. Just a few kilometres from the frontlines of Vukovar, Vinkovci endured heavy shelling. NK Rijeka arranged a week’s stay for the club, organising accommodation, matches and excursions.9 The youth sections of Slavonia’s two biggest clubs also benefited from hospitality. The organisers of a youth tournament in Kostrena invited teams to spend a week with them. The Osijek delegation’s leader thanked hosts for ‘enabling these children to have a week of peaceful dreams’.10 Many friendlies featured clubs from Croatia’s northern neighbour: newly independent Slovenia. There too, football swiftly adapted. The new Slovene League was an unwieldy gathering of mismatched clubs. With Olimpija Ljubljana’s last-minute inclusion it swelled to 21 teams, pitting the professional former First League club against village minnows Jadran Dekani (pop. 1,277) and Beltinci (pop. 2,322).11 Olimpija’s talented players rushed to the exit, seeing no future in the weak republic competition. In these new circumstances, the Bezˇigrad Stadium hosted provincial teams in the presence of a few hundred spectators.12 ***

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If Luxemburg and Austria can organise a championship, so can we. Meeting of Croatian First League Clubs, August 199113 When the FSJ restructured Yugoslav football without Croat teams, establishing a separate Croatian League became a pressing issue. The Crisis Committee of the HNS (Hrvatski nogometni savez, Croatian Football Association) knew it was a task of national importance. Croatia’s President Tud¯man, with a decade of experience at the helm of Partizan, was well aware of the relationship between sport and politics: it had the potential to transmit his government’s homogenising national vision and forge unity.14 The eight Croatian teams that had been scheduled to participate in Yugoslavia’s top two divisions formed the core of the new project, but beyond this the future was uncertain. How many clubs would the league contain? How would the second tier be structured? And how would teams be allocated to the new competitions? The war introduced additional complexities: some clubs were in no position to compete. In addition to Osijek and Cibalia, many smaller teams were on the frontline. Given that the main justification for withdrawal from FSJ competitions was the impossibility of playing competitive football at a time of war, there were also moral implications in resuming play on Croatian soil. The HNS announced an ambitious kick-off date of 20 August, but the new leagues were shrouded in doubt.15 The date would slip throughout the autumn. Stakeholders swiftly agreed on a 12-team top flight. A team from militarily vulnerable Dubrovnik was factored in at an early stage, along with Varteks Varazˇdin. Levi Strauss & Co. had offered 250,000 US dollars for the latter to compete; those responsible for constructing the postsocialist Croatian League had to navigate the choppy waters of sponsorship and marketing from the outset. The Levi’s offer underlined that clubs would not be allocated to leagues purely on merit. Pazinka, from the Istrian peninsula, was one of a number of teams with elite league ambitions. In the preceding season, the club finished above local rivals Istra Pula, in the fourth tier of the Yugoslav pyramid. Regardless, Istra leapfrogged Pazinka and more than 15 other teams with stronger claims. The HNS evidently saw in amateur Istra a more promising regional representative. Wartime conditions revolutionised Croatia’s football map. Istra’s surprised officials were well aware that their overnight elevation was a political move.16 Plans for the Second League were also at an advanced stage, although, as in Yugoslavia, this level of competition was highly contentious. The league would be geographically divided into northern and southern groups,

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but conflict made play in the north practically impossible, and the large distances in the envisaged southern section prompted two clubs to withdraw at the planning stage. They cited unmanageable costs and unrealistic expectations for amateur players.17 The fact certain teams were not even discussed says much about the contours of the Croatian game and state in the autumn of 1991. Dinara Knin and other Krajina clubs were conspicuous by their absence: Serb-held areas were de facto beyond HNS jurisdiction.18 Belgrade’s journalists mocked Croatian efforts to establish separate competitions and the ensuing underhand scramble for league places: long dead footballing centres are hastily reviving themselves . . . Why not let them all in! But where is football in all this, where is the quality which attracts spectators? Whoever has their own person in the Association or in some other organ can profit in some way. Among the proposed clubs were those ‘on the verge of bankruptcy’, yet this had no effect on Croatia’s utopian plans: In a visionary manner, all are looking somewhere into the distance. Nobody is looking at the powerlessness, the poverty, the exodus of quality players, the public’s disinterest and the war. Now they don’t feel like going to Skopje and Nisˇ, but they feel like going to Osijek and Vinkovci. Only, in the first two cities there is no shooting and in the second two everyone is shooting. Who then will guarantee whom peace and life? . . . When this league starts, the extent of public interest and quality of football will be seen. The answer to the following question will also emerge: Is that league good for Croatian and Yugoslav football, or just an ‘appendix’ which should be removed as soon as possible?19 Against this criticism, as bombs rained down on Osijek, a 12-team Croatian League was born with a fixture draw in Zagreb on 3 September. Proceedings at the Hotel Esplanade began with a minute’s silence in honour of those who had ‘fallen for a free Croatia’. Acknowledging that wartime conditions were not ideal for sport, HNS president Mladen Vedrisˇ told those present that the country needed to ‘cultivate all spheres of life that lead us towards Europe and the world’.20

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Nevertheless, escalating conflict forced the HNS to abandon their plans on the scheduled opening day. Istra Pula had already set out for their season opener at Hajduk. Facing up to reality, Vedrisˇ stated that ‘Football cannot be played in Croatia . . . . Now, the primary task is the defence of the homeland’.21 Given the HNS’ stance in the summer, it is no surprise that the drastically worse conditions of mid-September provoked an abandonment of hastily drawn-up proposals. Over the weekend the situation deteriorated further, with air raids on Zagreb’s industrial zone and the launch of a Croat ‘offensive’ to besiege JNA barracks across the republic. By October, Dubrovnik was under attack, the Yugoslav navy had blockaded Croatian ports and journalists were describing embattled Vukovar as the ‘Croatian Stalingrad’.22 The Croatian armed forces occupied NK Rijeka’s strategically important Kantrida, but the team continued to train elsewhere. They also engaged in humanitarian activities, giving blood for wounded soldiers. Most of the squad registered for the newly formed Sports Company of the Croatian National Guard (Zbor narodne garde, ZNG). This symbolic act did not interrupt their training routines and fixtures, but other footballers and supporters were already fighting and dying at the front.23 In a gesture with haunting parallels to the ill-fated partisan exploits of RNK Split in 1941, two teams departed en masse. Following a friendly between Junak Sinj, where RNK players had been executed fifty years earlier, and Borac Glavice, the players collectively ‘swapped their kits for the uniform of the Zbor narodne garde. They moved from the pitch to the frontline and engaged in the battle for the liberation of Croatia’.24 Members of supporters’ groups also flocked to the incipient armed forces in what sociologists describe as a movement ‘from ends to trenches’.25 In this way, the Bad Blue Boys (BBB), Torcida, Armada and others contributed to the war effort. Drazˇen Lalic´, a sociologist directly involved with Torcida, wrote that members of the leading supporters’ groups voluntarily joined up, ‘probably in significantly higher proportions than adherents of other subcultural styles, and others in their age group’.26 In the first weeks of war, football scarves could be seen on frontline positions, Dinamo badges were used as makeshift military insignia and a tank was named after the BBB.27 These youths viewed wartime obligations as a direct continuation of earlier hooligan clashes. In February 1992, Robi, a 23-year-old Torcida member who was already a battle-hardened soldier – having joined up in August – explained: Wherever I came across some active ZNG platoon, there wasn’t a person who didn’t ask me whether I went to matches. Because the

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great majority went to matches, either as Torcida or as BBB. Knowing well that Serbs in Slavonia were armed by Arkan, I also knew that Delije and Grobari were on the other side. Now it’s like it was at the stadiums, only that they have given us weapons. This is above all a war of football supporters, because the supporters understood political developments when many of today’s great politicians were still sycophants to the old government. In fact, we supporters have been fighting this war since 1980 . . . . I have experienced terrible things, I don’t know what will happen to me, but I’m satisfied that we supporters were in the right.28 By March 1993, 27 Torcida members had been killed, along with at least 60 BBB.29 Even as soldiers, these youths espoused roles as football fans. They made fleeting visits from the front for important matches, while Torcida members hassled military superiors for the latest results during the heat of battle. Militarised banners were displayed at stadiums, including ‘Torcida HV [Hrvatska vojska, Croatian Army]’. War trophies were paraded on the terraces: in June 1992, supporters at the Poljud brandished a Cyrillic sign riddled with bullets, bearing the name of the rebel Serbian Autonomous Region of Tasovcˇic´i.30 Today, the sacrifices of group members are remembered on street murals across the city.31 As discussions over the domestic game continued, HASˇK –Grad¯anski and Hajduk embarked upon European campaigns. They had earned the right to represent Yugoslavia, and the FSJ supported their participation so as not to jeopardise the European plans of Red Star and Partizan. Nevertheless, clubs were forced to play matches beyond Yugoslavia’s contested borders. When Hajduk hosted Tottenham Hotspur in the Austrian city of Linz in mid-September, players wore black armbands and carried a banner reading: ‘Stop the war in Croatia!’32 For seasoned reporter Orlando Rivetti, Hajduk served a crucial role: They are our ambassadors, carrying to Europe the truth about wartime destruction, about drunken cˇetnik excesses . . . they must realise that their role, though without rifles and ammunition, is also important for Croatia . . . . One of the important matches for the recognition of Croatia – and Croatian football – will be fought-out [in London]. Therefore, the Split team should not worry that they are unable to stand in defence of the Poljud and Split: their role in these difficult days is just as important.33

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President Tud¯man also praised athletes for their ambassadorial endeavours in presenting Croatia’s cause to the international community.34 Hajduk considered augmenting competitive fixtures by playing friendly matches across the continent as the ‘Team of Free Croatia’. This symbolic mission to spread knowledge of Croatian suffering at the hands of ‘rampant Serbian military hordes’, so reminiscent of Hajduk-NOVJ, was short-lived: both Hajduk and HASˇK –Grad¯anski crashed out of Europe in the first round.35 Back home, November heralded another tournament. ‘Free Croatia ’91’ was hosted in the Varazˇdin and Istria regions. Envisaged as a competition for the 12 clubs of the incipient top flight, a third withdrew due to wartime difficulties. Halfway through the tournament, Osijek’s crisis committee also ordered its team’s withdrawal. Heightened fears resulted from nearby Vukovar’s fall. For Croatia, the loss of Vukovar was the war’s nadir. As jubilant Serbian paramilitaries and the JNA pressed on towards Osijek, taking nearby villages, citizens panicked in freezing basements. Croatian soldiers thought the damaged city was certain to fall.36 NK Osijek’s stadium sits at the southern edge of town. By December, Serb forces occupied the immediate vicinity, as shelling scarred its terraces.37 The onslaught never came. With the capture of Vukovar, Slobodan Milosˇevic´ immediately assumed the mantle of peacemaker and accepted the deployment of an international force in Croatia. The belligerents signed a ceasefire at the beginning of January 1992 and the following month the UN Security Council agreed to dispatch peacekeepers. With the territorial situation frozen, Serb forces controlled 26.5 per cent of the erstwhile Socialist Republic of Croatia. The war left 20,000 dead. Much of the republic’s industry and infrastructure lay in ruins and 330,000 refugees were displaced on government-held territory.38 But the fighting had – more or less – stopped.

Figure 28

NK Osijek’s stadium carries the scars of war. Author, 2009.

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Just before Christmas 1991, Croatian morale was boosted when Germany acted against the wishes of European allies and announced its intent to recognise Croatia and Slovenia ahead of schedule. Then, in January 1992, the European Community recognised Croatia. The ceasefire and recognitions opened the path to normalisation in certain spheres. The HNS frantically set about reviving plans for league football. Clubs from the wartorn regions of Slavonia and Dalmatia were unanimous in their desire to resume, even if they had to play all of their games away from home.39 Dubbed the ‘Croatian Football Spring’, the ‘Levi’s HNL [Hrvatska nogometna liga, Croatian Football League]’ got underway at the end of February. NK Rijeka walked onto the Kantrida pitch behind a banner declaring a ‘Free and sovereign Croatia – a country of justice and democracy’. Two thousand witnessed their season opener against Sˇibenik. Crowds of 5,000 gathered to watch HASˇK –Grad¯anski play Cibalia, and Hajduk face Istra in matches laden with symbolism. As the media disseminated results and the league table, Croatian football assumed a concrete form. Commentators got carried away. The Croatian League would be the antithesis of its Yugoslav predecessor. Rijeka’s HDZ (Hrvatska demokratska zajednica, Croatian Democratic Union) published an open letter, calling upon the city’s inhabitants to witness the turning of a new and better page in the history of Croatian sport. Every citizen and sportsman was duty bound to contribute to the affirmation of a state emerging from the Yugoslav nightmare: Let us be ourselves in our own country in sport as well, without . . . fixed matches, through which Croatian sportsmen and Croatian sports clubs were short-changed in the former Yugoslavia. Let us behave with dignity and in a cultured manner at sports stadiums, in accordance with our name and the civilisation to which we belong.40 After the second round had been played, pitting Rijeka against newly elevated local rivals Istra, the optimism continued. Rivetti revelled in the admirable conduct of young spectators: ‘The first page of a new rivalry has been written . . . an unblemished page’.41 A new beginning provided a means of exorcising all that was bad about football’s administration, player conduct, corruption and fan behaviour. Despite shining expectations, the reality was rather different. The new league was far from regular. Five teams were forced to play home matches in alternative locations. In stricken Slavonia, NK Osijek and Cibalia hosted

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opponents in the relative safety of Ðakovo. In Dalmatia, NK Sˇibenik and Zadar played in Split, while Dubrovnik found a temporary home in Metkovic´. It was a logistical nightmare. To reach ‘home’ games, Dubrovnik had to travel a circuitous route via Croatia’s islands. Journeys to face Slavonian opposition were rendered more complex due to debilitating territorial losses. Later in the war, these displaced clubs played in numerous locations, as the evolving conflict impacted deeply upon their activities. The fixture list was hostage to the security situation. From the outset, the league was impeded by cancellations and abnormal playing conditions. Zadar’s footballers spent the night in an air raid shelter prior to one league match.42 By the end of the season, displaced clubs occupied the bottom four places in the league. Only Osijek fared better, finishing third. The quality was also mixed. The Dubrovnik team, constantly on the move, proved incapable of matching former giants of the Yugoslav game. They conceded nine goals in a single match against Hajduk and scored their first goal of the season in the tenth round. Crowds were poor: games involving Hajduk and HASˇK – Grad¯anski attracted a few thousand, but elsewhere stadiums were virtually empty. To make matters worse, the packed fixture list and extensive travelling did nothing to ease the dire financial situation. Running costs crippled the newly professional Istra. By April, several members of the club’s first team were on strike over unpaid wages.43 High hopes for the sport in a post-Yugoslav environment were swiftly dashed. NK Rijeka’s fierce protests against a dubious penalty led the referee to abandon one of their matches. In the days that followed, the HNS handed down punishments to match officials and players, but the whole episode forced a reassessment of the mood.44 A previously optimistic Rivetti noted that at the start of the season ‘there was not a football worker, coach or player who did not swear by their integrity’, while the referees also swore ‘never again how it used to be’. Now he conceded little had changed: People, football workers, referees and players are flesh and bone . . . it is understandable that not all are capable of dropping old habits. The question is whether they are paying off old debts to some shady club officials, or whether they are still collecting ‘golden handshakes’.45 He also acknowledged that Croatian clubs had been adept players of such games in the Yugoslav era: ‘Everything is going round in the same old circle’.

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The HNS were most concerned by continuing crowd violence in the absence of nationalist rivalries. The main cause of disorder was the dispute over Dinamo’s name change. Just before the beginning of the season, HASˇK – Grad¯anski hosted Hajduk at Maksimir. With President Tud¯man and many other political and sporting dignitaries in attendance, the Bad Blue Boys used the occasion to voice displeasure. The Croatian Olympic Committee publically condemned a section of Zagreb’s football fans. Their actions were an attack on a civilised state emerging from the Yugoslav darkness: Zagreb has been the seat of the Croatian university for 350 years, it is home to the Croatian Parliament, the Croatian Academy of Arts and Sciences, the Croatian Writers’ Association. We especially want to emphasise that it is the seat of the head of the Croatian Bishops’ Conference. It is a city with a long and proud cultural tradition, founded upon Christian learning . . . . We cannot and will not allow the spreading of everything that is wild, vulgar and violent, to continue on the Republic of Croatia’s territory. This long-suffering country is paying the highest price – the lives of its youth – to liberate itself from that.46 The BBB continued regardless, as HASˇK –Grad¯anski endured a very poor season. The naming dispute rumbled on throughout the decade and was a source of serious discomfort for Tud¯man. Besides this issue, matches between the erstwhile Dinamo and Hajduk provoked disorder, with one resulting in casualties and the destruction of cars and trams.47 It was all deeply embarrassing for the ruling HDZ, which endeavoured to harness sport as a means of reinforcing exclusive dichotomies between peaceful, democratic, European Croatia and primitive, barbaric, Balkan Yugoslavia.48 The second and third tiers of the Croatian game, where players had obligations other than football, were severely impacted by the war. Once the HNS accepted the prevailing financial and logistical realities, it scaled back plans for the Second League. A new structure saw 24 teams compete across four geographical groups, drastically reducing travelling times and costs. Further down the pyramid, exceptions were made for stricken clubs. Jedinstvo (Unity) Ogulin was permitted to freeze its third-league status for a season. Elsewhere, entire regional leagues were cancelled, with smaller clubs unable to muster players due to their fighting commitments.49 Throughout, the HNS tirelessly sought international recognition from UEFA and FIFA. Efforts were stepped up when states started to recognise

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Croatia’s independence in 1992. FIFA finally welcomed the HNS into its family that summer and the national team played its first matches of the post-independence era against Australia and Mexico.50 Though not in full control of the territory to which it staked a claim, by then Croatia had also crowned its inaugural champion and cup winner, Hajduk Split and Inker Zapresˇic´ respectively. Yet due to sanctions, there would be no European campaigns for these victors. While Croatian and Slovene football found their feet, however unsteadily, across the Sava and Danube rivers Yugoslavia’s First League soldiered on.

Yugoslavia’s Diminished Competition The gaping pit that is Red Star’s Marakana Stadium: the steel roofline falls away from the giant main stand to the shallower terraces on the far side, inviting the brooding sky into the arena. The Delije and Grobari, massed behind the goals at either end, compete to fill that sky with rhythmic chanting, smoke and flames. In the post-Yugoslav era, Belgrade’s ‘Eternal Derbies’ are among the rare occasions when the tired concrete terracing bears the weight of large crowds. The venue, teams, supporters and riot police have offered a degree of continuity over the years; the threat of unrest remains as crisp as the chilly autumn air. Occasionally, these matches – the glowing embers of the Yugoslav First League – ignite like the flares that rain down on the athletics track below. The colossal unfinished form of St Sava’s Cathedral, as much a temple to Serbian nationalism as to Orthodox Christianity, rises in the distance behind the amorphous Delije. At the back of the terrace, candles burn before an intimate shrine, erected in memory of the group’s war dead.51 In August 1991, as Serbia remained the core of the contracting Yugoslav state and its football competitions, Red Star were European Champions. The Yugoslav championship continued throughout the war, albeit with a shrinking pool of clubs to draw from. An enlarged, 18-team format emerged in the autumn of 1991. To replace the illustrious representatives of Zagreb, Split and elsewhere, the FSJ promoted modest Second League clubs at the stroke of a pen in a highly politicised process. Instead of elevating the best teams from the division below, the remaining republics haggled in their own interest. This enabled Macedonia’s Pelister Bitola, with an amateur coach, to obtain a First League berth despite having finished below less well-connected clubs in the previous season. Pelister’s good fortune provoked outrage in leapfrogged Niksˇic´, as Sutjeska threatened to withdraw to the Montenegrin

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Familiar scenes at Belgrade’s ‘Eternal Derby’. Author, 2008.

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league. Montenegro’s representatives at the FSJ, who had sanctioned the new format, defended themselves by claiming that a First League with two clubs from their small republic would not have received sufficient support: ‘I’m . . . personally more comfortable that I’m only being attacked by Niksˇic´ at the moment, rather than the rest of Yugoslavia’.52 Sutjeska need not have worried: when it became clear that Olimpija would not participate, the team eagerly took the place of the departing Slovenes.53 Indeed, this may have been the plan from the outset. Just as Belgrade’s journalists mocked the emerging Croatian League, their Croatian counterparts poured scorn on Yugoslavia’s rump competition: according to the eastern variant, the 46th Yugoslav football championship, and according to the western version, the first edition of the ‘FSJ’ First League has begun . . . . What kind of championship of Yugoslavia – which is also falling apart like the FSJ – is it, without clubs from Croatia and Slovenia? . . . it can’t be anything other than an ‘orgy in a Serbian kafana [coffee-house]’.54 For Rivetti, the league’s expansion, with the elevation of undeserving teams, was necessary to ‘buy’ the votes of interested parties. The bloated competition was a farce: ‘For years, we have been saying we have too many clubs in the First League, that it is of the lowest quality, with no interest whatsoever from spectators, and that costs are enormous, that the season

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lasts too long, that football simply does not interest anyone’.55 Given the competition unfolding simultaneously in Croatia, this account of Yugoslavia’s diminished league was hypocritical at best, but it was no less true for it. Understandably, the FSJ presented the restructured league in a kinder light. Though acknowledging 18 clubs were too many, officials argued that UEFA might not have recognised a smaller competition. In some respects, the FSJ were right to accentuate the positives. Though weakened by the exodus, and especially the loss of Hajduk and HASˇK – Grad¯anski, Yugoslavia’s top competition contained teams from four republics, including the reigning European Champions and every Yugoslav champion from the last nine seasons. Familiar afflictions blighted the diminished First League. Accusations of match fixing, economic meltdown and the on-going player exodus were exacerbated by war.56 Moreover, nationalism and crowd violence showed no signs of abating. In Mostar, Croat extremists threatened to target Velezˇ – a prominent multi-ethnic symbol of communism – if the club continued to participate in the ‘football league of Serboslavia’. Prior to an August home match against Partizan, a bomb was detonated at the stadium gates. While nobody was injured, the incident heightened tensions in an already delicate environment. It was an ominous sign of things to come, and the club’s Croat president resigned four days later. Despite this, Velezˇ supporters continued to pledge allegiance to the Yugoslav state.57 Elsewhere, crowd violence erupted in matches involving clubs from the same republic and predominant ethnic group. Such was the case in Macedonia, where fans of newly promoted Pelister clashed with rivals Vardar Skopje, forcing the abandonment of the Macedonian derby in March 1992.58 Against this backdrop, Serbian Red Star shone ever brighter. Before dawn on a freezing December morning, hundreds gathered on Belgrade’s Republic Square. Decked out in red and white scarves, they climbed Prince Mihailo’s monument, lit flares against the darkness and chanted patriotic songs. On the other side of the world, in distant Japan, Red Star lifted the Intercontinental Cup. By beating Chile’s Colo-Colo, the team added what was effectively the world club title to its national and European successes. Less than 150 kilometres to the west, Vukovar was a smouldering wreck, the roads in between having been ruined by incessant columns of tracked military vehicles. But in much of Serbia, victory in the Far Eastern theatre provoked jubilant scenes. It was a feat built on Yugoslavia’s footballing pedigree:

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Red Star would not have achieved what it has had it not been for the prior successes of YU-football (it is difficult to list them all): its own and those of the footballers of Partizan, Hajduk, Dinamo, OFK Belgrade, Sarajevo, Zˇeljeznicˇar, Vojvodina . . . and, especially, had it not been for the successes of the Yugoslav national team. Therefore, the statements of Star’s players that they accomplished this inspired with patriotism for their country – Yugoslavia, even if diminished, or ‘Rump’ – should be understood as a truth that no one could disregard. Red Star did Yugoslav football proud, as well as everyone who is not club (read: nationally) burdened in a country still called the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.59 The team received congratulatory messages from Slobodan Milosˇevic´ and Serbia’s member of Yugoslavia’s rotating presidency, Borisav Jovic´. For the latter, this Yugoslav victory was ‘much more than a sporting accomplishment’.60 Yet, above all, it was a triumph for the Serbian nation. As the oft repeated slogan, with its tongue-in-cheek territorial connotations, went: ‘Serbia to Tokyo!’ The few hundred supporters who made it to the Far East taught Japanese tourists the Orthodox two fingers and a thumb salute, signifying the holy trinity. Prevalent perceptions that the victory had been achieved against the odds made it sweeter. UEFA had forced Red Star, and all other Yugoslav clubs, to play European matches in neutral countries. This measure was not well-received in ‘peaceful’ Belgrade, where journalists claimed Serbian clubs were unfairly punished as a result of the violent chaos Croatia had brought upon itself. Politically, Serbia had been furious with Europe since October 1991, when Lord Carrington publicised his plan to offer sovereignty to all six republics, ceding everything to the western secessionists in the process.61 In this context, football’s European governing body was also deemed hostile to what remained of Yugoslavia. Following the Intercontinental Cup win, Tempo cursed: ‘Never has a European – let alone a World – champion been treated as wretchedly by the continent’s football elite as Red Star is today!’62 Perceived as a German plot against Serbs, the supposed UEFA conspiracy roused football leaders. A delegation of Red Star and FSJ officials flew to Switzerland to protect the club’s interests: We have seen for ourselves countless times that [the truth] does not carry much weight when the gentlemen from ‘cultured’ Europe discuss the ‘filthy Balkan saloon’. Nevertheless, it is worth trying once

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again – if only for those fifteen guys in red and white who brought fame to Yugoslavia in the saddest year of her history.63 They expected a frosty reception. Red Star’s technical director, Dragan Dzˇajic´ – former star of Yugoslav and FIFA elevens – had been ostracised when he attended the earlier European Cup draw: I endured a personal drama, something awful that still hounds me. Few want to shake your hand. Everyone has someone more important to greet; even your best friends turn their backs. Red Star is an institution in European football . . . a respected club, but now I found myself before some strange wall of isolation, lack of understanding, scorn.64 Even in Japan, Red Star felt hard done by. The Swiss referee dismissed Dejan Savic´evic´ in the first half, leaving the team down to ten men. Afterwards, the players stated that spite (inat) had brought them through against dishonest South American opponents. Dusˇko Radinovic´ drew a direct comparison with the war in Croatia: ‘They provoked Savic´evic´’s sending off. They tried to fake a penalty several times. But we played according to our principles: just as they are fighting for Yugoslavia on the battlefields of our homeland, so we will fight here, on the football pitch!’65 The Japanese victory was an opportunity to remind the world about Yugoslavia. Belgrade’s journalists underscored its significance: ‘a country which some claim does not exist has the best football team in the world!’66 The domestic realities awaiting Red Star’s heroes were grim. Despite the club’s triple success, the dire political and financial situation had begun to bite. Denied the opportunity to play European matches on home soil, the club missed out on the most lucrative period in its history. In contrast, Red Star’s talented footballers were well-placed to secure profitable moves abroad. Most of them might have left anyway, but the war accelerated the process. These departures, the absence of European football, and the diminished status of the First League, also provoked an exodus from the terraces. The 100,000 who witnessed the semi-final against Bayern may have been untypical, but in the 1990 – 1 season the club had averaged crowds of 30,000 for league games and over 60,000 for European encounters. In the autumn gloom of 1991, attendances plummeted. The nadir came when Red Star sold just 1,024 tickets for a match against Velezˇ.67 The absence of spectators drained club coffers and sapped player morale. Savic´evic´ explained that ‘[e]mpty stadiums, with a handful of silent

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supporters, hurt us. There are no really big matches anymore, apart from our derby with Partizan. That’s how it is, but it’s no use crying about it – life goes on’. The war had a deep psychological impact: ‘Many of my friends from Titograd are at the front; suspense and anxiety are everywhere’.68 For Sinisˇa Mihajlovic´, the son of a mixed marriage from Borovo, on the outskirts of war-torn Vukovar, the conflict was a major distraction: How can I play with an empty soul! . . . Our supporters are at the front, my nation is being killed and injured, so how can I play? . . . it is even indecent for us to play and celebrate alongside so many victims. As a result, I always play better and with more freedom when I cross the border.69 The war struck directly in the winter of 1991. News arrived that Red Star’s head of marketing, Bogdan Popovic´, had been killed in action on the Dubrovnik front, in his native Dalmatia.70 Red Star’s most infamous presence on the battlefields was a well-armed paramilitary formation based in the Slavonian village of Erdut. Under the command of Delije leader Zˇeljko Razˇnatovic´ ‘Arkan’, the Serbian Volunteer Guard was better known as the Tigers. This group, directly involved in Vukovar’s ‘liberation’, had gained a fearsome reputation. Yet Red Star embraced them and their wartime acts, drawing attention to the unit’s nucleus of Delije members. The club’s magazine even dispatched a correspondent to publicise the feats of its most loyal supporters. As their beloved club scaled the summit of the global game, these fans turned their attention to Serbian war aims: I wind back the film of my memories, and ‘deploy’ these brave young men across all the stadiums of Europe. I know exactly who stood where, who initiated the chant, who raised the first flag, who lit the first flare. Arkan’s Delije . . . . The best supporters in the world. With them, every match was a victory, and all were special experiences . . . . The Delije have left their supporting paraphernalia beneath the arches of our Marakana and, with rifle in hand, they have gone to war: fearless fighters, heroes to a man. Unfortunately, some of them are no longer among the living. They died courageously, in the only manner they were capable of.71 Mocking notions that his fighters were some kind of horde bent on war profiteering, Arkan made it clear in public announcements that they were

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under JNA command. His Tigers were ‘simply liberating this country from the Ustasˇa’.72 After Vukovar, Arkan set his sights on stricken Osijek. In a radio phonein for a local station on the Serbian side of the border, the commander greeted his fighters and all Red Star supporters. He exploited the airwaves to threaten Osijek’s mayor: Mr Kramaric´, you are an intelligent person, a humanitarian: do not allow such a beautiful city as Osijek to come to grief! Do not allow the Ustasˇa to conduct their bloody feast in it! Hand over the keys to the city! We will come as liberators, and we will ‘make war’ only on the football pitches.73 The feared Osijek offensive never came, but Arkan’s declaration that he would liberate Slavonia and win the war, ensuring the re-establishment of the Yugoslav First League in the process, unequivocally summarised his approach in multi-ethnic regions: ‘There will be a Red Star v Dinamo derby again, and those who don’t want that – let them migrate! Here is not the place for them’.74 Ethnic cleansing was the order of the day. Red Star’s ‘heroes’ on the football pitch and battlefield came together to revel in their successes at the end of 1991. In central Belgrade, broadcaster Studio B hosted a glitzy party. The guest list encompassed the elite of Serbian football and entertainment. Having completed the autumn half of the domestic season with a 5– 0 hammering of Zˇeljeznicˇar (Railway Worker) Sarajevo before 50,000 spectators, players were given free rein to enjoy themselves. As brandy flowed, Darko Pancˇev and his teammates sang hits with contemporary pop stars. Mihajlovic´, whose family home in Borovo had been ravaged by Croatian extremists, was among the loudest revellers, as he danced the night away. Yet, top of the guest list were stars of the other, darker campaign: What, for everyone, were somehow the most appreciated congratulatory messages and greetings arrived from the Slavonian battlefield. The head of the Serbian volunteer unit, Zˇeljko Razˇnatovic´ ‘Arkan’, brought them personally. Dragan [Vasiljkovic´], the captain of the Krajina Kninjas [knindzˇe – a paramilitary organisation based in Dalmatia] was also here. The players know how happy they made these people, around whose heads bullets whistle every day.75

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In full military uniform, they brought the war to the party in a visible manner. As Mihajlovic´ posed for photographs with Arkan, he wondered at the feats of his teetotal fellow reveller: ‘what would happen if he drank hard liquor?!’ In this hedonistic atmosphere, a collection was taken for stricken fighters and their families. Nearby Slavonia and Croatia’s other war zones were never far from the thoughts of those present: ‘Although it is the time of Star’s triumph, at least for a moment we should remember the sorrow which surrounds us, and which – via its success and good play – Red Star tried to ease’.76 Belgrade’s journalists rejoiced. Through a potent mixture of skill, determination and spite, Serbian Red Star had swept all before them, regardless of the many obstacles in their path. These remarkable feats spurred Tempo to predict more in the future: ‘Luckily, Star’s fairytale still isn’t over’.77 But it was. The Intercontinental Cup was the last hurrah before oblivion. The club would never recover from the hangover. Over the next three years, ongoing war, international sanctions, crippling debts and a player exodus reduced Red Star to a pale imitation of its former self. A number of the players had further cause for celebration. As reprezentacija members, they qualified for the European Championships, due to be hosted by Sweden in the summer of 1992. Qualification unfolded alongside Yugoslavia’s demise. The team that secured the decisive victory in Vienna in November 1991 was very different to that which opened the campaign fourteen months earlier. The Croats made their last appearance in May before gradually announcing their withdrawal. Nevertheless, the Vienna side was very much a Yugoslav selection: coached by Bosnian Croat Ivica Osim, it was captained by a Bosnian Muslim and featured players from every republic, including two from long-departed Slovenia. When asked whether Yugoslav football had a future, captain Faruk Hadzˇibegic´ responded: We footballers answered that on the pitch: we are in favour of Yugoslavia, regardless of how it will be redefined politically. The public’s support at the last three matches demonstrated in the best manner that this long-suffering nation of ours wants to live in Yugoslavia . . . . The accusation that ‘Serboslavia’ played against Austria is inaccurate. Those of us [in Vienna] were of all nations and nationalities. . . . I don’t wish to spell out the names to you now. We never do that among ourselves.78 That the win was achieved over Austria, whose leaders ‘openly stand on the side of the secessionist republics’, made the moment all the sweeter.

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Journalists made much of the conduct of their Austrian counterparts, who had called for a boycott against a state that ‘no longer exists’. The perceived hostility of Europe towards Yugoslavia in general, and Osim’s team in particular, led one reporter to make a fantastical comparison with the Olympic feat of 1952: We were being pressured by a great world power, the USSR and Stalin, so that triumph, just like this one, brought us almost indescribable inspiration. Some moments in football mean more than the game itself. Without doubt, our team’s win [in Vienna] is more important than football as a sport. Savic´evic´ and company demonstrated that no kind of misfortune – small or large – can ever destroy us!79 Taking stock halfway through the season, the FSJ’s president voiced a rosetinted perspective: I can’t remember a more regular championship in recent times. Amid the flames of war, we haven’t had nationalist excesses, abandoned matches, or refereeing foul play. On the contrary . . . we got it right in every sense. We didn’t allow those who, by destroying Yugoslavia intended to destroy the First Federal Football League as well, to do so. We defended the competition from all attacks. The national team qualified for the European Championship Finals, Red Star won the title of world champion, we have a football organisation that is finally efficient. So, after everything, I can say: the facts I have unpretentiously listed are . . . an answer to all of the wreckers and separatists who wanted to destroy and humiliate us!80 It was an optimistic assessment. In addition to persistent match fixing allegations, crowd violence and the Mostar bombing, the game’s empty terraces could not be ignored. As in Croatia, paltry ticket sales pushed clubs to the edge of financial oblivion. To lure crowds, giants Partizan opened their gates for free. The financial crisis was evidently significant: Partizan’s gesture attracted thousands to the JNA.81 In March 1992, 70,000 packed the Marakana for the ‘Eternal Derby’; Arkan was prominent among them.82 Yet, the game was about to plummet to new lows.

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Croatian and Slovene independence forced the issue in the rest of Yugoslavia. The Badinter Commission, so despised in Belgrade, offered each of the six republics the opportunity to be treated as sovereign states within existing borders. Both Macedonia and Bosnia duly applied. Given the absence of a sizeable Serbian population in the former, the Skopje leadership were able to detach their republic in a relatively peaceful manner. In January 1992, Badinter recommended that the European Community recognise Macedonia and, despite lengthy delays caused by Greek protests over the new state’s name, Belgrade did not stand in the way. Like its politicians, the republic’s football association opted for an orderly withdrawal, with Macedonian clubs remaining in the Yugoslav football pyramid until the end of the season.83 In Bosnia & Hercegovina, where Badinter raised concerns, clubs announced their intention to follow a similar path to their Macedonian counterparts. With a large Serbian population unwilling to be dragged out of Yugoslavia, however, Bosnia’s path to independence would be violent. The already diminished First League would be an early victim of the latest war over Yugoslavia’s spoils.

Bosnia’s Shattered Game The Yugoslav First League limped on until the beginning of April 1992. By then, the citizens of Bosnia & Hercegovina had voted for independence. Though boycotted by most Bosnian Serbs, the vote rubber-stamped the republic’s secession. Following a similar pattern to events in Croatia, Bosnian Serbs had already established autonomous regions. Yet, any permanent territorial division along ethnic lines demanded a drastic unpicking of Bosnia’s ethnic tapestry; its 43.7 per cent Muslim, 31.4 per cent Serb and 17.3 per cent Croat population could only be disentangled through force.84 Despite warnings about the dire consequences, the European Community announced its intention to recognise Bosnia & Hercegovina on 6 April. With the Croatian conflict frozen by international peacekeepers, the Tigers and other paramilitaries headed south. The JNA and its fearsome armoury were already there. As Bosnia descended into civil war, Arkan’s forces partook in ethnic cleansing operations in the north-east of the ill-fated republic: they were directly involved in the assault on the strategically important towns of Bijeljina and Zvornik, as well as the violent cleansing of their Muslim majorities.85 Against this backdrop, football fixtures scheduled for the fourth and fifth were bound to be tense. Both Sarajevo and Velezˇ had games in Serbia, although eight members of the latter team boycotted the trip.86 Zˇeljeznicˇar

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Sarajevo were due to host Rad Belgrade at their Grbavica Stadium. After a woeful night’s sleep, punctuated with the sound of automatic rifle fire, the teams were performing their pre-match preparations when fighting broke out in the hills directly above the ground. Bosnian Serb forces had begun their attack on strategic installations around the city. The referee was left with little choice but to cancel the game. As Rad’s footballers flew out on one of the last flights to leave Sarajevo, a four-year siege enveloped the city. The suburb of Grbavica fell to Bosnian Serbs at an early stage, but fierce resistance prevented them making further inroads. Zˇeljeznicˇar’s stadium straddled the front line; as its wooden mainstand burned and snipers occupied the terracing, the partitioned ground symbolised the plight of both the republic and football.87 The weekend’s other games were also affected. Masked men, armed with Kalashnikovs, manned roadblocks throughout the republic, making travel dangerous and uncertain. Further down the football pyramid, competition had been disrupted long before. Matches in the Bosnian Republic League had been postponed in the autumn due to the difficulties of travelling amid the political instability. NK Tomislav, a team from the predominantly Croat town of Tomislavgrad in Hercegovina, withdrew at the beginning of the season, while others resigned at the start of the spring campaign when the dangers of travel and hostile receptions at away games became too much.88 Yet even after Bosnia’s descent into war, First League clubs endeavoured to complete the season. This led to remarkable scenes. As Delije members destroyed Muslim communities and Sarajevo came under shellfire, its eponymous football club – unable to return home – was cared for by Red Star at Belgrade’s plush Metropol Hotel.89 Published league tables continued to list Bosnia’s First and Second League teams weeks after they stopped playing. While clubs in Bosnian Serb-held areas fulfilled their fixtures, it was not long before the deepening conflict forced others to withdraw.90 When the season ended, Bosnia & Hercegovina had been split in two: Bosnian Serb forces held vast swathes of territory, but they failed to secure the strategically vital corridor region in the north-east. Providing a link between Serbia proper and Serb-held areas in western Bosnia and Croatia, the corridor was an indispensable element of any future greater Serbian state. Throughout these events, Sarajevo resident Ivica Osim coached both the Yugoslav national team and Partizan. He was in an impossible position: as he worked on in Belgrade, his wife and children were in besieged Sarajevo. In mid-April, Osim visited Bosnia’s stricken capital and what he found shocked him:

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What have they done to my Sarajevo? What have they done to this beautiful town? I’ll never forget those gruesome sights . . . . Everyone is shooting. Barricades are everywhere . . . . All the citizens of Sarajevo are suffering. How can you play football in this situation?91 In May, Osim won the Yugoslav Cup with Partizan. Two days later, the man described as ‘the last Yugoslav president’ resigned as national team coach. As tears rolled down his cheeks at the dingy press conference, the visibly weary Osim described his departure as a private gesture to the plight of his native city. A week later, FIFA and UEFA acted upon UN Security Council sanctions and suspended the FSJ indefinitely. The remnants of the national team were expelled from the European Championships. Shorn of its Bosnian Muslim players, the squad had already arrived in Sweden when it received the news.92 Despite Bosnia’s devastation, within months of the outbreak of war combatants and civilians embraced football again. Conditions in besieged Sarajevo did not allow for 11-a-side games on outdoor pitches, but smaller matches were organised in sports halls and army barracks. The most noteworthy took place in July 1992 at the Skenderija complex. Built in the late 1960s, this sprawling colossus of socialist architecture nestles beneath mountains that rise steeply on the southern side of the city. Though exposed to shelling, its thick reinforced concrete provided some protection. The match between a Bosnia & Hercegovina representation and a selection of UN Protection Force (UNPROFOR) ‘blue helmets’ was hailed as ‘the first international since the start of the aggression on the Republic’. Played before a very small crowd, it was viewed as a symbolic event by both the Bosnian government and the UN. President Alija Izetbegovic´ and General Luis MacKenzie were among the spectators.93 Later, Jovan Divjak, the deputy commander of the Bosnian Army’s Main Staff, recalled the scene: It was crazy, brave, unforgettable and very impressive to go to Skenderija, to the first tournaments in small-sided football. In that way footballers showed spite, defiance and resistance to the aggressor.94 Simultaneously, both FK Sarajevo and Zˇeljeznicˇar were planning to resume activities. Both did some training at Skenderija.95 Moreover, while many elite players used the game as a means of escaping the war, others took up arms. Former Zˇeljeznicˇar player Enver Hadzˇiabdic´ and his footballer son Ezher were

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among them: ‘Enver was always a defender, Ezher an attacker, but now they both play the same defensive role’. Zˇeljeznicˇar’s presidency took pride in former members defending the city. Some had ‘given their lives for freedom’. They were nevertheless forced to concede that ‘a negligible group’ of former members were actively participating ‘on the side of the occupier’. Publically shamed in the press, such individuals would never be welcome again within the Zˇeljeznicˇar family.96 Football supporters also joined Territorial Defence units, the seeds of the Bosnian Army, in large numbers. In this way, the Maniacs and Horde zla (Hordes of Evil) were furnished with their own military heroes. Both groups subsequently erected monuments to their dead.97 By March 1994, ceasefire conditions in besieged Sarajevo were deemed stable enough for a match at the Kosˇevo Stadium. Exposed to the surrounding hills, the idea of enticing civilians there was outrageous. General Michael Rose, of UNPROFOR, was behind it. Fifteen thousand spectators watched parachute displays, speeches and a performance by the Coldstream Guards, flown in especially by the RAF. The centrepiece was a

Figure 30 Sarajevo’s battered Grbavica Stadium in April 1996, shortly after the end of the war. Beyond the shell crater, the remnants of physical barriers bisect the street at either end of the stadium. National Archives, USA, photo no. 6503790.

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Figure 31 ‘The Maniacs: Hero Square’. Alongside a commemorative plaque, Zˇeljeznicˇar’s Maniacs express their patriotic defence of Bosnia through street murals. Sarajevo. Author, 2015. football match between a Sarajevo representation and a team of UN peacekeepers. General Rose was aware of the risk: ‘If lives were lost, the image of the UN would be irrevocably destroyed. I decided, nevertheless, that the match should go ahead’.98 UNPROFOR went to great lengths to ensure the event passed peacefully. Rose negotiated directly with Bosnian

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Serb leader Radovan Karadzˇic´, warning him that UN forces would ‘respond firmly with all means in the event of the smallest incident’.99 The British general also offered a carrot: I told him that the match was going to be the first of many and that in the next match the UN would play the Serbs in Grbavica. I told him that eventually I hoped to arrange regular matches between the Serbs and the Bosnians. As Karadzic [sic.] had been the resident motivational psychologist in the Sarajevo football team before the war, he could not resist the idea and gave an undertaking that the match would be allowed to go ahead without interruption.100 Like the indoor encounter of 1992, this game was highly symbolic. Jusuf Pusˇina, acting in his role as both President of the Bosnian Football Association and the Minister of Internal Affairs, told the crowd the match was ‘a victory for Bosnia’.101 It also offered players and spectators fleeting relief from the war. Sarajevo’s football lovers embraced a rare chance to visit the stadium in open view of snipers. Oslobod¯enje, the internationally renowned voice of the besieged city, captures the mood: When the first goal was scored, the stadium exploded in such a way that I shook from some internal thrill: as if in that moment the raja [Sarajevo’s citizens] discarded from themselves all the grief of these seven hundred days. But, as a result, they really had fun.102 Rose revelled in this ‘carnival atmosphere’, noting that the crowd’s cheers must have been audible to entrenched Serbian soldiers in the hills above.103 For one commentator, the whole event was the ‘biggest perversion in wartime Sarajevo’. It was a game motivated ‘in the pursuit of propaganda and the gathering of political points, because British General Michael Rose is first and foremost a politician, and only then a soldier’.104 Just 43 days after the Markale Market massacre, when shelling had left 69 dead, Rose intimidated Karadzˇic´ into respecting the ceasefire. Yet, the general evidently did not trust Bosnian Serb reassurances: American F-16s protected the skies, British helicopters and French transporters were on standby, anti-aircraft guns were trained on ‘Karadzˇic´’s hills’, while several hundred UN soldiers and members of the Bosnian Army ensured the safe passage of the game. The fear was

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palpable: ‘The whole stadium was convulsed, tension was in the air, fear at the fact someone above might pull the cord on the mortar. The decision to go to the Kosˇevo on that day was a high-risk one’.105 Among the massed raja who took their chances was Basˇcˇarsˇija shopkeeper Senad Dizdarevic´. A world away from his boyhood experiences of FK Sarajevo’s European exploits of the 1960s, the UNPROFOR game was a wartime ‘sensation’ he felt urged to attend. Asim Ferhatovic´ ‘Hase’ had been the star of Senad’s youth.106 During the siege, the legend of Hase – who died in 1987, but continues to be remembered as a humanitarian and cornerstone of the historic city centre – was recalled patriotically in these new circumstances. Commenting on the hardships of war, singer Nazif Gljiva called out to Hase in his proud dirge: Oh, my Hase, I am sad, But so is the Basˇcˇarsˇija, Even in war we are champions, We played just like you. A new raja are the heroes of the day, Lola, Edo, Juka, Seno, The defenders of the city, Oh, my Hase, if only you were here now!107 Hase did not live to see the pockmarked terraces of 1994, where members of Horde zla and the Maniacs came together as one: ‘negating with their supporting all that needed to be negated at that moment: the rest of the stadium, the rest of Sarajevo, the rest of the world, UN resolutions, humanitarian aid, shells, massacres, camps, rape: alone against everyone for 90 minutes’.108 Even in extraordinary circumstances, Horde zla embraced a rare opportunity to indulge in hooliganism, beating several people up in and around the stadium. Limited opportunities to play in Bosnia were partly alleviated by a symbolic fight for the Bosnian cause on foreign pitches. Either side of the UNPROFOR match, FK Sarajevo embarked upon an extensive world tour to raise awareness of the siege. In early 1993, the club began a 12-month trip, playing 53 matches across Europe and Asia, encompassing visits to Malaysia, Iran and Saudi Arabia. Later, the team travelled even more widely.109 In the process, FK Sarajevo retraced the routes footballers and coaches had taken at the height of non-alignment. Many players used the opportunity to escape, abandoning the team and attempting to continue careers elsewhere. Yet, matches also served important humanitarian and

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political purposes. Returning to the besieged city in March 1994, the club’s coach explained: On the tour we didn’t just play football, we also created friendships and, most importantly, spread the truth about our country, about the aggression . . . . Staying in 52 cities, we had numerous press conferences, visited universities, schools, mosques. . . . And everywhere news was heard about our young state, about our soldiers, about the aggressors – in other words, about everything they have done to us and what they are still doing. To many people it is now much, much clearer what Bosnia is, what it means. I think we have contributed a lot towards the plan of breaking the blockade our state is subjected to.110 The incipient Bosnian national team played its first matches outside the homeland. Formed in the initial months of war, a Bosnian representation faced club sides in Belgium and Germany in early 1993, with another game against Fortuna Du¨sseldorf in July 1995 and a full international with Albania following in November. Those behind the national team saw football as an effective device for gaining political recognition.111 Thousands of refugees descended upon Du¨sseldorf for the Fortuna game, to the extent that ‘it seemed as though the match was being played in one of our cities’. For organisers, the fixture offered a way ‘to present ourselves in the best manner to Europe and the world, to support the battle for the liberation of our country in a sporting manner’. The selector of the Bosnian team thought good performances at international level offered a ‘sporting way of fighting against aggression’.112 *** For Velezˇ, the conflict was catastrophic. After what transpired to be its final First League match, in Subotica, the team’s Serbs went to Serb-held territory. Velezˇ withdrew from the league within days, and one of the club’s Serbian players explained that his team had ceased to exist.113 Mostar held out against JNA shelling over the summer of 1992, and the full extent of Velezˇ’s plight only emerged the following year. As fighting broke out between Hercegovina’s Croats and Muslims, the conflict evolved into a three-way territorial scramble. Multi-ethnic Mostar was the frontline of Bosnia’s second civil war. Due to its loyal adherence to socialist Yugoslavia, and its determination to compete in the First League, many local Croats

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disowned Velezˇ. Instead, Croat former members of Red Army flocked to support Hajduk.114 In Mostar, a team forcibly disbanded by the communists in 1945 due to a mono-ethnic outlook and wartime collaboration, was resurrected. NK Zrinjski was named in honour of a Croatian national hero and its mission was clear: ‘We hope and trust in God that “Zrinjski” shall again spread the glory of the Croats of Herzeg-Bosnia and of Mostar’.115 At the same time, Muslims were cleansed from their west Mostar homes and Velezˇ’s Bijeli Brijeg Stadium served as a temporary holding camp for them. The club’s memory was obliterated as part of the cleansing process. Extremists ransacked its offices, destroying trophies and property, while the new Croat authorities signed the stadium over to Zrinjski on a 99-year lease. The historic city was partitioned and Croat forces targeted its Ottoman-era bridge. Symbols of peaceful coexistence, the bridge and the football club were destroyed in the pursuit of ethnic separation.116 Zrinjski participated in the newly forged Football Championship of Herceg-Bosna, the short-lived Bosnian Croat state, from 1994 onwards. Although the Washington Agreement, signed in February of that year, brought the Muslim – Croat war to an end, Hercegovina and Mostar remained divided. Fighting also continued against Bosnian Serb forces, impacting directly upon the modest Herceg-Bosna competition. NK Tomislav, from Tomislavgrad, hosted teams at a ground which had accommodated Croatian refugees months before. Fleeing nearby fighting, hundreds of women and children had been bussed there, where they laid out blankets under the goalposts and patiently awaited their fate.117 The championship’s two-leg final took place in the summer of 1994, pitting Zrinjski against Sˇiroki Brijeg’s Mladost (Youth). The first match was played at Velezˇ’s former home. Velezˇ and Hajduk star, the Mostar-born Croat Blazˇ Slisˇkovic´, played for Zrinjski. Mladost lifted the trophy, a feat witnessed by Croatian Defence Minister – and Tud¯man’s right hand man – Gojko Sˇusˇak. A Herceg-Bosna national team also played matches, including one against Croatian First League club Dubrovnik.118 Though unfolding after the Washington Agreement, the league embodied the territorial aspirations of Bosnian Croat forces. It emphatically underlined proud Velezˇ’s demise. Nevertheless, competitive football had also stirred on the Bosnian government-held side of the frontline. Homeless Velezˇ was a welcome participant. *** The seemingly endless corridor of Zenica’s Bilino Polje Stadium is lined with historic NK Cˇelik (Steel) photographs. Wood-panelled walls and dark

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carpets have changed little since the ground was built in the early 1970s. A room off the corridor houses a bar and tired leather armchairs in the club’s red and black colours. Faded blinds and beige mushroom-shaped floor lamps complement the period setting. Most of the objects littering the trophy cabinets are inconsequential to all but those who won them: youth trophies, mementoes from friendly tournaments and other minor relics. Yet, on top of a cabinet by the window, an unassuming golden cup – smaller than many of its neighbours – glints in the morning sun. The base has been knocked slightly askew and dust has gathered on its upturned surfaces: ‘To the Winner of the 1st National Championship in Football, season 1993/94. Football Association of the Republic of Bosnia & Hercegovina’. By 1993, plans were being made for a national club championship encompassing all territory under government – that is, predominantly Muslim – control. Planned on a regional basis, with the best clubs qualifying for a final tournament, the first wartime championship was complex and in constant flux. Group stages began in 1993 in some districts, while others waited until the following summer. There were multiple district tournaments of various sizes, ranging from a two-league system encompassing 23 teams in Tuzla, to the understandably more modest eightteam contest in besieged Sarajevo. All of the regional competitions encountered logistical difficulties due to the conflict. A number of districts, including Doboj and Travnik, held finals in the relative calm of Zenica. Fighting also impeded play directly. Despite a June ceasefire, a match in the Sarajevo region – played at the exposed Kosˇevo – was abandoned when Serb snipers fired on the stadium. It was not the first time. The war was never far away from the Sarajevo tournament, where two UNPROFOR helicopters landed on the pitch at half time in a subsequent match.119 The quality of competition was poor: No more could be expected, if one bears in mind the aggression upon our country and the genocide against Muslims. Alongside that, a large number of quality players crossed the borders of the homeland some time ago and are turning out for various clubs across Europe.120 The chaotic nature of the first championship was particularly evident in the semi-final group stage, held in July 1994. Designed to bring together the best teams from the regional competitions and those that had participated in Yugoslavia’s federal leagues, the semi-final groups were hosted in four cities: Sarajevo, Zenica, Tuzla and Jablanica. Originally, the Bosnian

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Football Association planned for each group to contain five clubs, but the final compositions were less equally balanced. Just days before kick-off, it was unclear which clubs would succeed in travelling to the host cities. The war prevented teams from Bihac´ and Gorazˇde from participating. The Zenica group was particularly chaotic in terms of last minute changes: Iskra (Spark) Sarajevo withdrew at the last minute, unable to leave the beseiged capital, while Gracˇanica ’92 were impeded by financial difficulties. Even those teams that reached their destination were full of combatants and needed Army dispensation.121 Sporting irregularities severely tainted matches. Two clubs refused to fulfil their fixtures in the Tuzla group, claiming that games had been fixed, while a shadow was cast over the Sarajevo competitions when Rudar (Miner) Breza’s players threatened the referee and stormed off the pitch in protest.122 These disappointing scandals brought the competition’s credibility into question: People wore themselves out building something called the first wartime football championship of the Republic of Bosnia & Hercegovina. Not just a huge amount of energy, but an enormous amount of money was invested . . . . After everything, it is as though this heap of money was thrown away in vain123 Following the scandals of the semi-finals and a fierce debate as to which city should host a final tournament originally scheduled for July, the finals were eventually played in Zenica in September 1994. The eight qualifying teams participated in a short tournament before impressive crowds. One reason for this was that, as elsewhere in the former Yugoslavia, the organising committee decided to allow free entry to children, disabled soldiers, the families of sˇehidi (holy warriors – fallen Muslim soldiers) and pensioners.124 The championship was crucial for a state striving for independence. Cˇelik director Muhamed Islamovic´ stated: In this war some clubs disappeared because of an inability to function, an enormous number of footballers resisted the aggressor, and unfortunately some laid down their lives for their homeland; some crossed-over to the other side and shot at those who had been fellow players and friends, but the majority demonstrated it is possible to fight with a rifle in hand and with a football on the pitch. With various matches and championships we are opposing the aggression and the enemy with sport. I see the

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first Republic of Bosnia & Hercegovina championship in football . . . through this prism.125 Difficulties continued to hamper the competition. One match was abandoned when a UNPROFOR fighter broke the sound barrier over Zenica, triggering air raid sirens. Threats from Bosnian Serb forces resulted in the abandonment of a subsequent match and a delay to the schedule. The response underlined that the crowning of an inaugural football champion had significance far beyond sport. Following the second interruption, Islamovic´ explained that in the national and military interest players would ignore future threats to safety: This is not a friendly tournament: it is the Republic of Bosnia & Hercegovina Football Championship. Footballers with a ball on the pitch, who are also subject to military conscription, are the same as soldiers on the frontline. Therefore, we will respect the established timetable for second and third round matches of the championship. Obviously, in the event of an air raid siren this will be without the presence of spectators. Because this is also a battle for Bosnia.126 The finals came to a belated end on 14 September 1994, when hosts Cˇelik lifted the trophy. Even on its final day, controversy surrounded the tournament. As Bosna Visoko supporters departed for home, hooligans attacked their convoy with stones. Several supporters were taken to hospital, while all ten coaches were left with broken windows. This created severe difficulties for the operator, which was faced with the difficult task of obtaining replacement parts at a time of war. Hooliganism thus cast a shadow over the notable achievement of staging the first national championship.127 Nevertheless, in governmentheld Bosnia, the post-Yugoslav era was underway. *** Across the frontline, fluid borders, military operations and hardships impacted upon attempts to tailor the game to Bosnian Serb needs. The war effort was paramount to the government and army, and this ruled out the establishment of a Republika Srpska (Serbian Republic, RS) league for the duration of the conflict. Nevertheless, football was harnessed in the service of state building. The Republika Srpska Football Association was founded in September 1992, with a cup competition following in the 1993 – 4

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season. The incipient republic’s elongated shape – intermittently severed by enemy operations in the corridor region – and the fact many footballers served in the armed forces, necessitated a regionalised format. The final, held in Banja Luka in June 1994, had all the trappings of state. Part of celebrations to honour the Republika Srpska Army, it was an important moment for the new polity. General Ratko Mladic´ was due to present the trophy but, as he was unavailable, another highranking military man stepped in: General Milan Gvero, subsequently indicted for war crimes, handed over the cup to victorious Kozara Gradisˇka.128 Refusing to leave Yugoslavia against their will, the Bosnian Serbs maintained a passionate interest in the on-going Federal League. Indeed, Serbs west of the Drina were represented throughout the war. Borac (Fighter) Banja Luka, a First League team at the outbreak of conflict, continued to compete in Yugoslavia. To satisfy UEFA and FIFA, the club was officially listed as Borac Belgrade after 1992, but its origins were an open secret. The team made the dangerous trip through the corridor region every week, playing home matches at grounds across Serbia. Eventually settling in the small Vojvodinian town of Bacˇ, Borac struggled. Relegated to the Second League in 1993, the club fell out of the federal level of competition in 1995. Yet its sheer presence was a victory of sorts. By maintaining its position in FSJ competitions, the club constituted an open denial of Bosnian independence. It was proof that, at least in football, Banja Luka had not left the Yugoslav state.129 As elsewhere, however, the unsettled Borac haemorrhaged its most talented players and the team that took to the field in Yugoslavia was as ethnically cleansed as the formerly multi-ethnic city it represented. Football was also used to underline the territorial reach of the Bosnian Serb state. Its cup competition and participant clubs reinforced gains made on the battlefield. Simultaneously, rival incarnations of illustrious Bosnian clubs bolstered claims to contested areas: a FK Zˇeljeznicˇar and a FK Sarajevo were established on Bosnian Serb soil. Both laid claim to the respective histories of their Yugoslav-era namesakes. Although Zˇeljeznicˇar’s Grbavica sat on the frontline, most of the suburb was Serb-held. Nevertheless, neither club were able to play at grounds in Sarajevo. Instead, they competed from more secure towns along the Drina valley.130 The existence of the Serbian Zˇeljeznicˇar provided journalists with a powerful means of mocking the territorial claims of their enemies. When news reached Banja Luka of the other Zˇeljeznicˇar’s participation in the inaugural Bosnian championship, journalists fumed:

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They know – they know well – that ‘Zˇeljo’ is located on this, our, Serbian side. They know. How can they not know that Zˇeljo participated in the Republika Srpska Cup? But they have still, even alongside everything else – usurped the club. Without regard to the fact that the famous Grbavica [Stadium] belongs to Republika Srpska. They are disguising themselves, evidently, in somebody else’s clothes.131 These claims and counter-claims remained unresolved until an overarching peace settlement brought a measure of stability to Bosnia.

Simplifying the Map Across Republika Srpska’s more hospitable northern border, the Republika Srpska Krajina’s Croatian Serbs also used football to underpin their infant state. When the Croatian conflict was frozen in January 1992, Krajina held its first national championship and cup competition. Organisers were hamstrung by RSK’s non-contiguous nature: it consisted of two chunks of territory, divided by a vast swathe of hostile Croatia. Regardless, for the 1992– 3 season, Croatian Serbs designed a regionalised league that culminated in a final tournament. Six regions each produced a finalist, and Banija Glina emerged as the first champion.132 As RSK assumed the trappings of state, Dinara Knin’s ground became the national stadium. It is a humble setting. Beyond crumbling memorial gates erected in the early communist years, the few shallow steps that run alongside the near touchline can accommodate a few hundred spectators. Opposite, a large concrete stand abutting the railway line can house 2,000 more, but the ends are open. Nevertheless, the view from the clubhouse is stunning: Knin castle clings to the mountain that rises steeply behind the town. In July 1994, this was the venue for the first RSK Cup Final. It was a grand affair. The state’s president, Milan Martic´, presented the trophy to victorious Bukovica Kistanje. His speech was emphatic: ‘RSK is ours, ours alone, and always will be’. Prior to the main event, a representation of the RSK police played against their colleagues from Serbia. Martic´, himself a police officer, sat on the home team’s bench. For the press, this secured his reputation as ‘not just a brilliant politician and brave Serb warrior, but also a good football expert’.133 Prior to the cup final, the second season of the RSK League was resolved hundreds of kilometres from Knin in the part of RSK that was contiguous with Serbia proper. Hosted in Beli Manastir, the league’s final tournament

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Figure 32 Knin Fortress towers above the town and Dinara’s football ground. Author, 2016. was a rare opportunity for the far-flung inhabitants of the Croatian Serb state to come face to face. To reach the distant venue, Dinara crossed the width of war-torn Bosnia. The team played fraternal Borac Banja Luka en route.134 By 1995, Republika Srpska Krajina was a basket case economically, politically and militarily. Haemorrhaging inhabitants, it had very poor relations with its patrons, Milosˇevic´’s government in Belgrade. At the same time, Croatia used the UN-monitored cessation in hostilities, in place for over three years, to bolster military capabilities. The RSK authorities desperately needed a change of tactics. The most promising option was to merge with fellow Serbs in Bosnia, to create a single Serb polity west of the Drina. In football, too, this was the preferred choice for Croatian Serbs. Ties with their Bosnian Serb counterparts were nurtured throughout the conflict. A 1994 ‘Super Final’ pitted the champions of RSK and RS against one another, while the two states engaged in intranational matches as early as the winter of 1992.135 A series of Croatian military victories chipped away at RSK as the balance of power shifted westward. Then, in spring 1995, Operation Flash brought about the collapse of Serb authority in western Slavonia and the exodus of thousands of Serbs. The 1994 –5 RSK League was a victim of

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these actions, not least because the ceded territory had been home to two of the state’s leading clubs. The final blow came in August 1995, when the Croatian Army launched Operation Storm, a massive offensive that made rapid inroads into RSK. The state and its football competitions were wiped off the map within days. Operation Storm obliterated Krajina’s Serbian community. Marcus Tanner captured their plight: ‘After demanding all, they had lost all’.136 Knin changed forever. Having paid a heavy price for socialist Yugoslavia’s creation, its demise shattered the town. Dinara’s plight was typical. Despite competing below the summit of the Yugoslav game, it had been a small club with a big reputation throughout the country and nurtured several international players.137 It also gave local footballers like Niko Franusˇic´ and Zlatibor Sladic´ the opportunity to brush shoulders with world-renowned stars. Former partisan Franusˇic´ played against Benard Vukas in the early 1950s while Sladic´’s coach during the club’s golden years was Vukas’ teammate in the illustrious reprezentacija of the Tito –Stalin Split era: goalkeeper Vladimir Beara. In contrast, the football careers of Franusˇic´ and Sladic´ were far more modest. In different eras, the game provided these players and hundreds of others with rich experiences. But in the 1990s, the club both had played for without regard to ethnicity was torn apart like the state which shaped their lives. As a Croat, Franusˇic´ spent the RSK years in Split, but Operation Storm enabled him and his family to return. At the same time, Sladic´ and his family departed eastwards, alongside hundreds of tractors laden with the belongings of Croatian Serbs. Triumphant, Tud¯man rushed to ‘liberated’ Knin to bask in the glory of an outright military victory over the errant ‘separatists’. Dinara’s pitch served as his stage.138 Like towns and cities across the former Yugoslavia, Knin’s demographics changed irrevocably. Over 85 per cent Serb in 1991, four years later there were hardly any left. Some returned in the intervening years, but 20 years after the outbreak of war, Croats constituted 75.4 per cent of the population. Many of the new inhabitants were cleansed from neighbouring Bosnia.139 This abrupt exchange impacted all elements of life. Zlatibor Sladic´ explains that Dinara was no exception: ‘after Storm, the club was. . . The population of the town changed. One population departed and another arrived. But the club was reformed and continued to function: with a different emblem, symbols, with little changes’.140 In fact, Dinara was extensively ethnically remodelled. Abandoning the traditional black and white colours, its new custodians draped the team in a red and white sˇahovnica-patterned kit. The club crest, which had been a stylish letter ‘D’ on a black and white background before the RSK-era management adopted the colours of the

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Serbian flag and Cyrillic letters, was redesigned for a third time after Storm: the new version featured a sˇahovnica embossed on the colours of the Croatian flag.141 It was no longer possible to claim that Knin was anything other than a patriotic Croatian town. Croatian Dinara resumed play just a month after Operation Storm. The club was rushed into the Croatian football pyramid via administrative channels, entering the Second League at the first opportunity in 1996. It reinforced the new territorial realities in the process. Yet the Serb stigma remained. In 1998, Dinara withdrew from the Croatian Third League in protest at alleged poor treatment at the hands of referees and opponents. At away grounds they had been greeted with jeers of ‘Cˇetniks from Knin!’142 There were virtually no Serbs left, let alone ‘cˇetniks’. Despite lingering prejudices, Dinara has benefited from Knin’s pivotal role in the Homeland War. Dinamo and Hajduk have both played friendly matches in the town. The players of the former wore t-shirts emblazoned with the slogan ‘Knin – Hero City’ during a 2006 visit.143 In the altered circumstances of post-Storm Knin, Dinara’s ground continued to serve as a venue for symbolic national events, albeit diametrically opposed to those of the RSK years. As a wide-open space capable of accommodating thousands, the stadium has been the site of annual Operation Storm commemorations. Croatian soldiers, veterans and politicians gather here to celebrate the defining moment of the war. From the castle perched on the mountaintop high above, Franjo Tud¯man’s statue leers over the town, while the high street – where Croatian flags adorn every lamppost – is named in his honour. It is a far cry from Martic´’s defiant statement made on the pitch back in 1994.144 Reshaped twice in the carnage of the 1990s, Dinara’s contested history is being written and rewritten in different locations. When the club marked its centenary in 2013, there were two celebrations: one in Knin, the other in Belgrade. Two commemorative monographs were published. Initially, the town endeavoured to produce a single, inclusive volume, in cooperation with Dinara’s Belgrade-based veterans’ association, but the admirable project broke down in the absence of consensus. Nevertheless, the competing volumes that emerged endeavoured to reach out to members of the opposing national group.145 On the whole, the Knin edition avoids provocative language, even allocating a page to the RSKera team. Yet, this approach results in a history devoid of content. The reader is told that fifteen players lost their lives during World War II, but there is no mention of how, at whose hands and for what cause.146 According to the weathered plaque that clings on above the stadium gates, most of them were partisans. In this sense, Dinara’s plight is symbolic of

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Yugoslav football as a whole; its history is subject to the political whims of the day. For all the efforts of displaced veterans’ associations, RSK football died with Operation Storm. The project to build a Greater Serbia died with it. The Croatian offensive of August 1995 also caused severe disruption over the border in Bosnian Serb-held territory, hastening the end of the Bosnian War. The operation was coordinated with Bosnian government forces, so as to ensure the maximum impact on the Serbian war effort. In this sense, Storm simplified the political and military situation in both Croatia and Bosnia. It also resolved the plight of a lingering outpost of Yugoslav football. Although Republika Srpska survived the upheavals of 1995, the end of the Bosnian War terminated Borac Banja Luka’s presence in FSJ competitions. The club returned home for the start of the 1995 – 6 season. Moreover, as the internationally brokered Dayton Agreement established a territorial settlement for the new, federal Bosnia & Hercegovina – with the Bosnian Serb state as one of two constituent parts – claims to territory beyond agreed borders receded. As a result, the Serbian incarnations of Sarajevo clubs crumbled, not least because their namesakes in the federation were functioning successfully out of their old stadiums. In the years after Dayton, the three distinct football competitions that emerged in wartime Bosnia & Hercegovina gradually came together into a single federal, multi-ethnic competition.147 The ethnic, political and sporting maps in both Croatia and Bosnia had been simplified by four years of fighting. *** In April 1995, four months prior to Operation Storm, representatives of the football associations of Slovenia, Croatia, Macedonia and Bosnia & Hercegovina gathered together to withdraw officially from the Football Association of Yugoslavia.148 It was an act performed by suited individuals, sitting around a desk. Nevertheless, wartime football was omnipresent. It was played throughout the conflict, even in the most testing conditions. It underlined the death of its Yugoslav predecessor. Never perfect, the latter had been torn into multiple successor leagues and cup competitions, with overlapping territorial ambitions. As in the communist years, football served as a source of legitimacy for new states and gave concrete dimensions to their territorial scope and intentions. While the Slovene and Macedonian competitions emerged with minimal birthing pains, others, like the leagues of Republika Srpska and Herceg-Bosna, were incorporated into the overarching Bosnian football pyramid in the postwar years. In contrast, the

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Croatian Serb championship failed as the corresponding political project was routed in the storm of 1995. The rump Yugoslav First League continued to contract long after the initial disintegration. Most – though not all – of Kosovo’s clubs departed in the upheavals that shook the province during the 1990s. At the time of writing, Kosovo Serb clubs cling on in the lower leagues of the Serbian game, refusing to acknowledge the independence of Kosovo via football. Montenegro’s teams departed peacefully in 2006, three years after the anachronistic ‘Yugoslavia’ name disappeared from the map of the Balkans, as Serbia and Montenegro went their separate ways.

CONCLUSION

The rickety tram trundles down broad nineteenth-century tree-lined streets. The imposing architecture would not look out of place in the Habsburg districts of Osijek, Subotica or Rijeka, while the tram ride is not unlike similar journeys to crumbling stadiums in suburban Belgrade, Sarajevo and Zagreb. Graffiti is conspicuous by its absence, however; the streets are spotless and the tram is not bursting with local youths hollering rhythmic chants. Unlike other trips in search of the history of Yugoslav football, fading socialist-era sports infrastructure is not the destination. The tram winds through an affluent suburb in the centre of the European Union, home to galleries, museums and conference centres. The Hague – the administrative capital of the Netherlands – is where the story of Yugoslav football ends. Over the past two decades, details of its final chapter have emerged at the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia. It is a sobering tale. Testimonies delivered in sanitised courtrooms alongside physical evidence across the region underline the extent to which football, politics and nationalism were entwined until the bitter end. The small stadium on Kranjcˇevic´ Street in Zagreb is a rare survivor from the interwar Kingdom. Concordia played here and won two Yugoslav titles before victorious partisans forcibly disbanded the club in 1945. In the communist years, the ground was home to NK Zagreb. Then, in spring 1991, it hosted the first inspection of the incipient Croatian National Guard. It was a state occasion draped in the trappings of Croatian nationalism. It was also another step towards armed conflict.1 A year later, in the Bosnian capital, Zˇeljeznicˇar Sarajevo’s Grbavica Stadium became a frontline in a war launched in the pursuit of ethnic separation. Zˇeljeznicˇar was one of many workers’ clubs that made valuable contributions to the National Liberation Struggle and ensuing revolution.

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Figure 33 A graveyard on a former training pitch in Sarajevo, with Kosˇevo Stadium’s floodlights in the background. Author, 2009. It thrived in the multi-ethnic state, winning the First League and representing Yugoslavia in European competitions. With the outbreak of war, Zˇeljeznicˇar’s pitch became no man’s land, its stands burnt to the ground and civilians were forced to dig trenches into the adjacent training field.2 Like the stadium, the club’s supporters, players and staff were cleft in two.

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West of Sarajevo, in historic Mostar, Velezˇ had been a jewel of the communist game. The club suffered for the cause in the interwar years and was a staunch defender of the revolution. Its Bijeli Brijeg Stadium hosted teams from all over the non-aligned world, as well as from both Cold War blocs. An organisation that endeavoured to be ‘in step with the revolution’, Velezˇ embraced self-management socialism, revelled in its Marshal Tito Cup triumphs and mourned the death of the Party elite. When conflict tore the city apart, Croatian extremists harnessed the stadium as a holding camp for Muslim civilians slated for expulsion.3 Velezˇ fared no better. Its socialist, pro-Yugoslav and multi-ethnic outlook was ill-suited to the prevailing climate: the club was cleansed and replaced by a team with a diametrically opposed outlook. It was a team that had been disbanded by the partisans for its narrow Croatian identity and collaboration with the Ustasˇa. Supporters’ groups brought colour and excitement to stadiums in the 1980s, when the game was mired in moral crisis, but they also brought nationalism and violent excess. In the common state’s final years, Serb and Croat groups fought pitched battles across Yugoslavia, culminating in the Maksimir Riot. Later, the Delije, Bad Blue Boys, Torcida and other groups provided eager recruits for incipient national armies and marauding paramilitary organisations. The latter actively engaged in ethnic cleansing, looting and atrocities across Croatia, Bosnia & Hercegovina and Kosovo. Witness testimony places ‘Arkan’s people’ – with a core of Delije members – at the scene of some of the most harrowing crimes of Yugoslavia’s disintegration.4 In their determination to engineer the demography of coveted regions, Bosnian Serb forces converted sporting infrastructure into the infrastructure of cleansing and genocide.5 The grounds of proud lower-league clubs in towns and villages around Srebrenica were exploited as concentration camps and execution sites. Many of the thousands of Muslim men and boys murdered in summer 1995 passed through the humble facilities of Bratstvo (Brotherhood) Bratunac and Jadar Nova Kasaba. At the latter club, named after a tributary of the Drina, an American U-2 spy plane photographed hundreds crowded onto a pitch surrounded by guards, while a Dutch peacekeeper witnessed ‘rows of shoes and rucksacks’, ‘a tractor with a cart on which there were corpses’ and ‘a tip-up truck carrying corpses on an excavator’.6 Finally, training pitches where the stars of the Yugoslav game honed their skills, including those of First League champions FK Sarajevo, were converted into cemeteries in the besieged Bosnian capital. Within view of the Kosˇevo Stadium, built through voluntary labour actions at the height of the revolution, neat white tombstones cover a field once framed with

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goalposts at either end. Between this makeshift burial ground and the stadium, a monument remembers the FK Sarajevo supporters who were victims of the war. It is one of many that litter the sporting arenas of the successor states: a new wave of commemorative objects that stand alongside those erected in memory of the fallen of the 1940s. Like stone bookends, the memorials of two distinct eras inscribe the dates of socialist Yugoslavia’s birth and death. These events left a dark stain on the game’s history. Provocative supporters subsequently used them to goad ethnic opponents. In 2002, fans of the now staunchly ‘Serbian’ Borac Banja Luka unveiled a banner during a match against Zˇeljeznicˇar Sarajevo, a club detractors denounce as a narrow Muslim organisation in the cleansed post-Yugoslav era. In a brazen allusion to the murderous removal of Muslims from their homes, the slogan read: ‘Knife, Wire, Srebrenica’.7 Elsewhere in Bosnia, supporters endeavour to ensure that atrocities are not forgotten. Murals in predominantly Muslim towns remind inhabitants of the crimes of wartime adversaries. Alongside jolting reminders of Yugoslavia’s violent disintegration, memories, histories and relics ensure that the game is also remembered as a rich and omnipresent aspect of Yugoslav society, embraced by millions.

Figure 34 Cˇelik’s Robijasˇi (Convicts) appeal to the inhabitants of Zenica: ‘Don’t forget Srebrenica, 11.7.1995’. Author, 2013.

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Conversations with a Sarajevo market trader, a Rijeka sailor, or members of Novi Sad’s Red Firm supporters’ group leave no doubt as to the passions that their clubs inspired during four and a half decades of communist rule. The reminiscences of a Dalmatian partisan who embraced the grassroots game in the meagre postwar years, the 1970s star of Sloboda Tuzla or the club president who experienced triumph in the final edition of the Marshal Tito Cup underline the extent to which football was shaped by the prevailing politics of their respective eras. For now, the complex and multifaceted Yugoslav game – with its unbridled joys and pervasive flaws – lives on in their memories, and in the memories of tens of thousands like them. Histories of clubs, associations and individuals have been written and rewritten since the first footballs arrived in the Balkans at the end of the nineteenth century. Every new volume reflects the prevailing political and national climate. Each of the wars that rocked the region in the twentieth century provoked efforts to obliterate undesirable pasts and recreate the state and the game in the image of the new social order. The ruptures of the 1940s, when fascists and then communists rewrote the interwar years, were followed half a century later by a wave of resurgent nationalist movements that sought to atone for the perversions of communism. Yet historical accounts survive from all of these periods. In combination, histories written during the interwar years, in the socialist decades and in the post-Yugoslav era, provide a nuanced – though often contradictory – perspective on football’s past. No single account could hope to portray the fractured, contested and diverse histories of the Yugoslav game. Then there are the physical reminders that football and the state were inseparable across the country: the ball behind the bar on Vis, the remnants of intimate Stari plac in Split, a Sarajevo fast food outlet named in honour of a 1950s legend, photographs of solemn anniversary proceedings and the lingering red stars that adorn shirts and memorials. More than any other, the gleaming form of Marshal Tito’s Cup, cast at the same time as the state its patron presided over, stands as a monument to the Yugoslav game. Alongside its five-pointed stars and the torches representing each republic, are the names of Yugoslavia’s greatest clubs. The winners, often with multiethnic teams and fan bases, came from across the state: from Skopje to Rijeka, Belgrade to Split, and Zagreb to Mostar. Their revolutionary names, so emblematic of the period, are etched into the metal surface of a relic that accompanied the game at every step. Football, such a powerful and unpredictable commodity, is etched into the history of Yugoslavia.

APPENDIX

First Federal League Clubs: 1946 –91

Number

Club

City

Federal Unit

Seasons in First League

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Crvena zvezda Dinamo Hajduk Partizan Sarajevo Vojvodina1 Velezˇ OFK Beograd2 Vardar3 Zˇeljeznicˇar Rijeka4 Radnicˇki Buduc´nost Sloboda Olimpija5 Zagreb Cˇelik Osijek6 Spartak Borac Lokomotiva Radnicˇki Sutjeska

Belgrade Zagreb Split Belgrade Sarajevo Novi Sad Mostar Belgrade Skopje Sarajevo Rijeka Nisˇ Titograd Tuzla Ljubljana Zagreb Zenica Osijek Subotica Banja Luka Zagreb Belgrade Niksˇic´

Serbia Croatia Croatia Serbia Bosnia & H. Vojvodina Bosnia & H. Serbia Macedonia Bosnia & H. Croatia Serbia Montenegro Bosnia & H. Slovenia Croatia Bosnia & H. Croatia Vojvodina Bosnia & H. Croatia Serbia Montenegro

45 45 45 45 42 41 37 36 33 32 29 28 25 24 22 18 17 16 15 13 10 9 8

APPENDIX 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33

Bor Napredak Dinamo Maribor Prisˇtina/Prishtina Proleter Radnicˇki Rad Novi Sad Ponziana

34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46

Tresˇnjevka Macˇva Nasˇa krila Rabotnicˇki Split Zemun7 14. Oktobar Borac8 Crvenka Iskra Nafta Teteks Trepcˇa/Trepc
a

1

Bor Krusˇevac Vinkovci Maribor Pristina Zrenjanin Kragujevac Belgrade Novi Sad Trieste

Serbia Serbia Croatia Slovenia Kosovo Vojvodina Serbia Serbia Vojvodina Free Territory of Trieste Zagreb Croatia Sˇabac Serbia Zemun Vojvodina Skopje Macedonia Split Croatia Zemun Vojvodina Nisˇ Serbia Zagreb Croatia Crvenka Vojvodina Bugojno Bosnia & H. Donja Lendava Slovenia Tetovo Macedonia Kosovska Kosovo Mitrovica

Vojvodina competed as Sloga in 1948– 9. Competed as Metalac and BSK Beograd in the 1940s and 1950s. 3 Competed as Pobeda in 1946 – 7. 4 Competed as Kvarner in 1946 –7. 5 Competed as Odred in 1953– 4. 6 Competed as Proleter Osijek in the 1950s. 7 Also competed as Galenika Zemun. 8 Merged with NK Zagreb in the early 1950s. 2

313 6 6 5 5 5 5 5 4 3 3 3 2 2 2 2 2 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

NOTES

Introduction 1. Recent works include: Luther, B. & M. Pusˇnik (eds), Remembering Utopia: The Culture of Everyday Life in Socialist Yugoslavia (Washington, DC, 2010); Patterson, P.H., Bought & Sold: Living and Losing the Good Life in Socialist Yugoslavia (Ithaca, 2011); Baker, C., Sounds of the Borderland: Popular Music, War and Nationalism in Croatia since 1991 (Farnham, 2010); Morrison, K., Sarajevo’s Holiday Inn on the Frontline of Politics and War (London, 2016). 2. Edelman, R., ‘A Small Way of Saying “No”: Moscow Working Men, Spartak Soccer, and the Communist Party, 1900– 1945’, The American Historical Review 107:5 (2002), 1473. 3. Edelman, R., A. Hilbrenner & S. Brownell, ‘Sport Under Communism’, in S.A. Smith (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of the History of Communism (Oxford, 2014), 602– 13. For instance, on the Soviet case: Riordan, J., Sport in Soviet Society: Development of Sport and Physical Education in Russia and the USSR (Cambridge, 1978); Edelman, R., Serious Fun: A History of Spectator Sports in the USSR (Oxford, 1993); Edelman, R., Spartak Moscow: A History of the People’s Team in the Worker’s State (Ithaca, 2009); O’Mahony, M., Sport in the USSR: Physical Culture – Visual Culture (London, 2006); Grant, S., Physical Culture and Sport in Soviet Society: Propaganda, Acculturation, and Transformation in the 1920s and 1930s (London, 2012). On the German Democratic Republic: Dennis, M. & J. Grix, Sport Under Communism: Behind the East German ‘Miracle’ (London, 2012); McDougall, A., The People’s Game: Football, State, and Society in Communist East Germany (Cambridge, 2014). 4. Rohdewald, S., ‘Yugoslavian Sport and the Challenges of Its Recent Historiography’, Journal of Sport History 38:3 (2011), 389. 5. In addition to a flurry of journal articles and book chapters, see collections in J. Hughson & F. Skillen (eds), Football in Southeastern Europe: From Ethnic Homogenization to Reconciliation (London, 2014); Brentin, D., A. Galijasˇ & H. Paic´ (eds), Special Issue: Football and Society, Su¨dosteuropa 62:2 (2014); Special

NOTES

6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

TO PAGES

4 –11

315

Section: Football, History and the Nation in Southeastern Europe, Nationalities Papers 44:6 (2016). Other recent works include: Vuic´, J., The Sarajevo Olympics: A History of the 1984 Winter Games (Amherst, 2015); Zec, D., F. Baljkas & M. Paunovic´, Sport Remembers: Serbian – British Sporting Contacts During the First World War (Belgrade, 2015). Sack, A.L. & Z. Suster, ‘Soccer and Croatian Nationalism: A Prelude to War’, Journal of Sport and Social Issues 24:3 (2000), 307; Sugden, J. & A. Bairner (eds), Sport in Divided Societies (Oxford, 2000), 4. Tranter, N., Sport, Economy and Society in Britain, 1750– 1914 (Cambridge, 1998), 96. Vukadinovic´, Lj. (ed.), “Radnicˇki” 1920– 1955 (Belgrade, 1955), 7. Lowenthal, D., The Past is a Foreign Country (Cambridge, 2011), xxii. Ibid., 249. Seldon, A. & J. Pappworth, By Word of Mouth: ‘E´lite’ Oral History (London, 1983), 12 – 13; Lowenthal, 246. Ramet’s definition follows the work of E.K. Francis. Ramet, S.P., Nationalism and Federalism in Yugoslavia, 1962– 1991 (Bloomington, 1992), 23. Smith, A.D., The Nation in History: Historiographical Debates about Ethnicity and Nationalism (Cambridge, 2000), 65. Smith, A.D., National Identity (Reno, 1993), 22. Jovic´, D., ‘Yugoslavism and Yugoslav Communism: From Tito to Kardelj’ in D. Djokic´ (ed.), Yugoslavism: Histories of a Failed Idea: 1918– 1992 (Madison, 2003), 157– 81. Ramet, Nationalism and Federalism, 53 – 4.

Chapter 1 Antecedents: Football in the Kingdom, 1919 –41 1. Starc, G., ‘Bad Game, Good Game, Whose Game? Seeing a History of Soccer through Slovenian Press Coverage’, Journal of Sport History 34:3 (2007), 440–4. 2. Orel was similar to, but not, Sokol. Bezˇigrad also hosted religious gatherings during the 1930s. Slovenec, 26 June 1935; Delo, 16 September 2010; Nielsen, C.A., Making Yugoslavs: Identity in King Aleksandar’s Yugoslavia (Toronto, 2014), 221. 3. Politika, 26 June 1934. 4. Djokic´, D., Elusive Compromise: A History of Interwar Yugoslavia (New York, 2007). 5. Singleton, F., A Short History of the Yugoslav Peoples (Cambridge, 1989), 131. 6. In Subotica, in the north of modern Serbia, ‘nogomet’ prevailed until the late 1940s, when the town’s principal team adopted ‘futbal’. ‘Zapisnik sa redovne sednice Nogometnog kluba “Spartaka”’, 15 February 1949; ‘Zapisnik sastavljen na sednici futbalskog kluba Spartaka’, 22 February 1949, Arhiv Vojvodine (AV), RS 002 F.268 (Pokrajinski odbor Fudbalskog saveza Srbije za Vojvodinu), /K-1.

316

NOTES

TO PAGES

11 –16

7. Banac, I., The National Question in Yugoslavia: Origins, History, Politics (Ithaca, 1988), 55, 222. 8. Djokic´, Elusive Compromise, 21, 34; Nielsen, Making Yugoslavs, 15, 27. 9. Singleton, Yugoslav Peoples, 133. 10. Djokic´, Elusive Compromise, 4, 46 – 52; Djilas, A., The Contested Country: Yugoslav Unity and Communist Revolution, 1919– 1953 (Cambridge, 1991), 60. 11. Kramer, F., Hrvatski nogometni savez: 80. obljetnica (Zagreb, 1992), 26 – 8; Zec, D., ‘The Origins of Soccer in Serbia’, Serbian Studies 24:1 – 2 (2010), 150; Jovanovic´, B., ‘Prva lopta na beogradskoj kaldrmi’, in P. Đord¯evic´ (ed.), 50 godina BFS (Belgrade, 1973), 30– 1. 12. Garber, R., ‘Od prve lopte do zlatnog jubileja’, in R. Garber (ed.), Zlatni jubilej ZNS, 1919– 1969 (Zagreb, 1970), 24; Jovanovic´, ‘Prva lopta na beogradskoj kaldrmi’, 30 – 1. 13. Crnogorac Cetinje, a Montenegrin club, played in the 1935– 6 competition, while Grad¯anski Skopje, from what became Macedonia, played among the elite in 1935– 6 and 1938– 9. Sijic´, M., Fudbal u Kraljevini Jugoslaviji (Belgrade, 2009); Divcˇic´, D. (ed.), Pet decenija drzˇavnih prvenstava (Belgrade, 1975), 11 – 45; Jovanovic´, V., ‘Sport as an Instrument of Yugoslav National Policy in Macedonia 1918– 1941’, in A. Malz, S. Rohdewald & S. Wiederkehr (eds), Sport zwischen Ost und West: Beitra¨ge zur Sportgeschichte Osteuropas im 19. und 20. Jahrundert (Osnabru¨ck, 2007), 216–17. 14. Jelenic´, M., ‘Nogometna konfederacija u Jugoslaviji 1939. godine’, Povijest sˇporta 22:88 (1991), 39. 15. 1913– 1938, Cˇetvrt veka S.K. “Jugoslavije” (Belgrade, 1939). 16. Gizdic´, J., Svi Hajdukovi predsjednici (Split, 2007), 14– 41. 17. Đurd¯ev, P., ‘Rekonstrukcija stadiona “Karad¯ord¯e” u Novom Sadu’, Godisˇnjak Istorijskog arhiva grada Novog Sada 8 (2014), 240– 3. BSK’s management was comparable in the 1920s: Zec, D., ‘Money, Politics, and Sports: Stadium Architecture in Interwar Serbia’, in J. Bogdanovic´, L. Filipovitch Robinson & I. Marjanovic´ (eds), On the Very Edge: Modernism and Modernity in the Arts and Architecture of Interwar Serbia (1918 – 1941) (Leuven, 2014), 274– 5. 18. Nielsen, Making Yugoslavs, 113– 14; Jovanovic´, ‘Sport as an Instrument’, 209. 19. Sport klub Vojvodina Novi Sad to Gradsko poglavarstvo, 5 March 1937, Istorijski arhiv Grada Novog Sada (IAGNS), F.150 (Fond Magistrata grada Novog Sada, savet – poglavarstvo), /13652/37; Ðurd¯ev, P., ‘Izgradnja i otvaranje sportskog igralisˇta “Karad¯ord¯e” u Novom Sadu’, Godisˇnjak Istorijskog arhiva grada Novog Sada 5 (2011), 282– 3. 20. 1913– 1938, Cˇetvrt veka S.K. “Jugoslavije”. 21. Jovanovic´, ‘Sport as an Instrument’, 215, 218– 19; Jovanovic´, V., ‘Fizicˇka kultura i sport kao deo nacionalne politike: Slucˇaj Vardarske banovine’, Leskovacˇki zbornik 46 (2006), 186. Stefan Dusˇan, Tsar of the Serbs and Greeks, conquered much of the Balkans for the fourteenth century Serbian Empire. 22. Jovanovic´, ‘Prva lopta na beogradskoj kaldrmi’, 19; Sportski klub Juda Makabi to Gradski savet, 2 December 1924, Savet poglavarstvo, Fond Magistrata Grada Novog Sada, IAGNS/150/564/1925; Politika, 21 July 1922.

NOTES

TO PAGES

16 –24

317

23. Mrkalj, M., ‘Sto godina nogometa u Glini (1913– 2013)’, Ljetopis srpskog kulturnog drusˇtva Prosvjeta 18 (2013), 247. 24. Kizem, N., ‘Znacˇke – dio bogatstva hrvatskog nogometa’, in Kramer, Hrvatski nogometni savez, 327– 38. 25. Kramer, Hrvatski nogometni savez, 27; Sindbæk, T., ‘“A Croatian champion with a Croatian name”: National Identity and Uses of History in Croatian Football Culture – The Case of Dinamo Zagreb’, Sport in Society 16:8 (2013), 1014. 26. Marovic´, D. & M. Radja, Povijest sˇporta u Splitu, Knjiga druga 1918 – 1941. (Split, 2006), 268; Krizˇevic´-Drina, A., Sportasˇi Splita u revoluciji (Split, 1982), 83. 27. Novo doba, 23 April 1921. 28. Jadranski sport, 1 June 1921. 29. Starc, ‘Bad Game, Good Game’, 441– 4. 30. Marusˇic´, A., Ferata: zapisi predratnog reprezentativca (Zagreb, 1982), 48 – 9. 31. Zec, ‘The Origins of Soccer in Serbia’, 155– 6; Sijic´, Fudbal u Kraljevini Jugoslaviji, 18. 32. Hadzˇi, K., Propozicije drzˇ. prvenstva, 1938– 39. (Belgrade, 1938), 8; Garber, ‘Od prve lopte do zlatnog jubileja’, 34. 33. Zec, D., ‘Kratak osvrt na pojavu fudbalskih navijacˇa u Kraljevini SHS/ Jugoslaviji’, Glasnik Etnografskog instituta SANU 64:2 (2016), 230. 34. Djokic´, Elusive Compromise, 66 – 9, 72. 35. Nielsen, Making Yugoslavs, 113– 20, 147– 8, 221– 8; Jovanovic´, ‘Sport as an Instrument’, 209– 13. 36. Zec, ‘The Origins of Soccer in Serbia’, 148. 37. Politika, 25, 26 November 1929; Kramer, Hrvatski nogometni savez, 28 – 9; Garber, ‘Od prve lopte do zlatnog jubileja’, 38. 38. Politika, 26 November 1929. 39. Ibid., 17 March 1930; Novo doba, 17 March 1930; Kramer, Hrvatski nogometni savez, 29. 40. Stanisˇic´, B.Ð., Plavi, Plavi! (Belgrade, 1969), 81; Kramer, Hrvatski nogometni savez, 28 – 9. 41. Prokic´, P., Montevideo, 1930. god. (Belgrade, 1998). 42. Djokic´, Elusive Compromise, 90 – 8. 43. Ibid., 204– 5; The Times, 7 June 1939. 44. Marusˇic´, Ferata, 184– 7. 45. Sijic´, Fudbal u Kraljevini Jugoslaviji, 30 – 1; Politika, 12 October, 27 November 1934. 46. Politika, 30 January 1939. 47. Garber, ‘Od prve lopte do zlatnog jubileja’, 41. 48. Politika, 30 January 1939. 49. Novo doba, 30 January 1939. 50. Politika, 30 January 1939; Tubic´, M.P., Jugoslovenski sport: koreni, razvoj, razdruzˇivanje (Novi Sad, 2005), 207. 51. Politika, 30 January 1939. 52. Ibid.; Novo doba, 30 January 1939. 53. Novosti, 27 April, 15 May 1939.

318

NOTES

TO PAGES

24 –31

54. Zec, ‘Kratak osvrt’, 232– 3. 55. Garber, ‘Od prve lopte do zlatnog jubileja’, 42– 3; Kramer, Hrvatski nogometni savez, 40 – 1; Tubic´, Jugoslovenski sport, 117– 19. 56. Politika, 30 January 1939. 57. Sijic´, Fudbal u Kraljevini Jugoslaviji, 117– 26. 58. Djokic´, Elusive Compromise, 207– 12, 232. 59. Garber, ‘Od prve lopte do zlatnog jubileja’, 42 – 3; Tubic´, Jugoslovenski sport, 211. 60. Sijic´, Fudbal u Kraljevini Jugoslaviji, 124– 5. 61. Juric´, I., Narona/Neretva 1919.– 1994. (Metkovic´, 1995), 24. 62. Jelenic´, ‘Nogometna konfederacija’, 39 – 44; Zec, ‘The Origins of Soccer in Serbia’, 156– 7; Zec, ‘Kratak osvrt’, 233. 63. Djokic´, Elusive Compromise, 226. 64. Krizˇevic´-Drina, Sportasˇi Splita u revoluciji, 26, 239; Marovic´ & Radja, Povijest sˇporta u Splitu, 263. 65. Garber, ‘Od prve lopte do zlatnog jubileja’, 43. 66. Sijic´, Fudbal u Kraljevini Jugoslaviji, 126– 33. 67. Djilas, The Contested Country, 136. 68. Marusˇic´, Ferata, 195– 6. 69. As was the case in 2009, when the author also saw an Ustasˇa symbol scrawled below. 70. Garber, M. (ed.), Crveni Split 1912’82 (Split, 1982). 71. Banac, The National Question, 330; Djilas, The Contested Country, 64. 72. Marovic´ & Radja, Povijest sˇporta u Splitu, 268. 73. Banac, The National Question, 400; Djokic´, Elusive Compromise, 52 – 3. 74. Banac, The National Question, 332; Marovic´ & Radja, Povijest sˇporta u Splitu, 270. 75. Novo doba, 22 July 1921. 76. Ibid., 23 April 1921. See also: Garber, Crveni Split, 36 – 8; Djilas, The Contested Country, 64 – 5. 77. Banac, The National Question, 332; Djilas, The Contested Country, 64. 78. Nalic´, M., RSD Sloboda Tuzla: 1919– 1989 (Tuzla, 1989), 21 – 50. 79. Krstonic´, M. & Ð. Pilcˇevic´, Pet decenija rada sportskog drusˇtva “Sloboda”: ’25 –75 Titovo Uzˇice (Titovo Uzˇice, 1975), 19. 80. Cerjan, S., ‘Na putovima Revolucije’, in Garber, Zlatni jubilej ZNS, 65 – 9. 81. Sˇkoro, M. (ed.), Velezˇ 1922– ’82, (Mostar, 1982), 12 – 13. 82. Tadic´, D., Sˇest decenija sportskog drusˇtva “Radnicˇki”, 1923– 1983 (Kragujevac, 1984), 22 – 4. 83. Krstonic´ & Pilcˇevic´, Pet decenija rada, 15. 84. Flander, M. (ed.), Enciklopedija fizicˇke kulture, Vol. I (Zagreb, 1975), 578– 9. 85. Cerjan, ‘Na putovima Revolucije’, 66. 86. ‘Prijedlozi i rezolucija Prve radnicˇke sportske konferencije odrzˇane 24. maja 1926. godine u Trbovlju’, 24 May 1926. Reproduced in S. Cerjan ‘Tri dokumenta radnicˇkog sporta’, Povijest sporta 1:1 (1970), 19 –20. 87. ‘Platforma za “Blok radnicˇkih klubova Jugoslavije”’, 15 August 1926. Reproduced in Cerjan, ‘Tri dokumenta radnicˇkog sporta’, 16 – 19.

NOTES 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106.

107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119.

TO PAGES

32 –39

319

Ibid.; Flander, Enciklopedija fizicˇke kulture, Vol. I, 174. Some workers’ clubs avoided overarching organisations for tactical reasons. Marovic´ & Radja, Povijest sˇporta u Splitu, 270–4. Cerjan, ‘Na putovima Revolucije’, 74; Vukadinovic´, Lj. (ed.), “Radnicˇki” 1920– 1955 (Belgrade, 1955), 14. Vukadinovic´, “Radnicˇki”, 11 – 12. Ibid., 12; Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 32 – 3; Marovic´ & Radja, Povijest sˇporta u Splitu, 274. Sˇkoro, Velezˇ, 18 – 20. Banac, The National Question, 339. Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 61. Ibid., 47; ‘Pravila Radnicˇke sportske zajednice’, 24 July 1935. Reproduced in Cerjan, ‘Tri dokumenta radnicˇkog sporta’, 22 – 7. Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 48 – 9. Cerjan, ‘Tri dokumenta radnicˇkog sporta’, 27. Kokeza, Lj., Uvijek vjeran bijelom dresu (Split, 1958), 38. See also: Garber, Crveni Split, 57 – 60. Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 61. Ibid., 64 – 5. Kokeza, Uvijek vjeran, 39. Cerjan, ‘Na putovima Revolucije’, 76 – 7. Vukadinovic´, “Radnicˇki”, 14 – 15; Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 45 – 6. ‘Ministarstvo unutrasˇnjih poslova, Odelenje za drzˇavnu zasˇtitu kraljevskoj banskoj upravi Drinske banovine, Sarajevo’, 1 February 1939, Arhiv Narodnog muzeja u Titovom Uzˇicu, inv. br. 1870, reproduced in Krstonic´ & Pilcˇevic´, Pet decenija rada, 61 –3. ‘Izvesˇtaj nacˇelstva sreza uzˇicˇkog upravi Drinske banovine u Sarajevu’, 4 October 1938, Arhiv Narodnog muzeja u Titovom Uzˇicu, inv. br. 1872, reproduced in Krstonic´ & Pilcˇevic´, Pet decenija rada, 61 – 3. ‘Resˇenje Kraljevske uprave Drinske banovine’, 8 December 1932, Arhiv Narodnog muzeja u Titovom Uzˇicu, reproduced in Krstonic´ & Pilcˇevic´, Pet decenija rada, 42 – 4. Cerjan, S., ‘Nasˇi Sˇpanjolci’, Povijest sporta 27:70 (1986), 267–72; Kreacˇic´, O., ‘Sjec´anje na jedno vrijeme’, Povijest sporta 27:70 (1986), 273– 80. Vukadinovic´, “Radnicˇki”, 14. Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 51. Marusˇic´, Ferata, 204– 5. Djokic´, Elusive Compromise, 248. Krizˇevic´-Drina, Sportasˇi Splita u revoluciji, 89 – 90; Garber, Crveni Split, 66 – 9. Cerjan, S., ‘Rato Dugonjic´ – Sportasˇ, revolucionar i drzˇavnik’, Povijest sporta 18:73 (1987), 204. Mirosavljevic´, B., “Vojvodina” nasˇa ljubav (Novi Sad, 1996), 69. Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 63. Nalic´, RSD Sloboda Tuzla, 45– 6. Eterovic´, S., Ratnim stazama Hajduka (Split, 1989), 13 – 14.

320

NOTES

TO PAGES

39 – 47

120. Zec, D., ‘Oaza normalnosti ili tuzˇna slika stvarnosti? Fudbal u okupiranoj Srbiji (1941– 1944)’, Godisˇnjak za drusˇtvenu istoriju 3 (2011), 64– 6; Marusˇic´, Ferata, 35. 121. Kreacˇic´, ‘Sjec´anje na jedno vrijeme’, 273; Vilovac, J. (ed.), F.K. Vojvodina – Pola veka: 1914– 1964 (Novi Sad, 1964), 52 – 3. 122. Sˇkoro, Velezˇ, 22 – 5. 123. Ibid.; Krizˇevic´-Drina, Sportasˇi Splita u revoluciji, 190. 124. Cerjan, S., ‘Komunisticˇka partija Jugoslavije i Savez komunisticˇke omladine Jugoslavije u razvitku radnicˇkog i neprednog sporta od 1919. do 1945. godine’, Povijest sporta 1:4 (1970), 307. 125. Cerjan, ‘Na putovima Revolucije’, 71. 126. Jelenic´, ‘Nogometna konfederacija’, 44.

Chapter 2

Liberation Football, 1941 –5

1. Sˇime Poduje to Stanley Cullis, 9 March 1945, Drzˇavni arhiv u Splitu (HR-DAST) F.495 (Nogometni klub Hajduk), /70/153. 2. Pavlowitch, S.K., Hitler’s New Disorder: The Second World War in Yugoslavia (London, 2008), 62. 3. Tadic´, D., Sˇest decenija sportskog drusˇtva “Radnicˇki”, 1923– 1983 (Kragujevac, 1984), 101. 4. Zec, D., ‘Oaza normalnosti ili tuzˇna slika stvarnosti? Fudbal u okupiranoj Srbiji (1941– 1944)’, Godisˇnjak za drusˇtvenu istoriju 3 (2011), 55 – 6. 5. Magdic´, Z., ‘Nogomet u Nezavisnoj drzˇavi Hrvatskoj, 1941– 1945’, in F. Kramer (ed.), Hrvatski nogometni savez, 80. obljetnica (Zagreb, 1992), 42 – 5. 6. Goldstein, I., Croatia: A History (London, 2004), 135. 7. Yeomans, R., Visions of Annihilation: The Ustasha Regime and the Cultural Politics of Fascism, 1941– 1945 (Pittsburgh, 2013), 133– 4, 230– 1. 8. ‘Obc´i pravilnik HNS’, in Hrvatski nogometni savez: Propisnici, pravilnici i poslovnici u primjeni od 15. lipnja 1943. (Zagreb, 1943), 33, 59; ‘Poslovnik o sluzˇbenom dopisivanju’, in Ibid., 74. 9. Yeomans, Visions of Annihilation, 231. 10. Mrkalj, I., ‘Povijest nogometa u Glini (1. Dio)’, Nezavisni magazin 206 (2015), 43 – 5; Mrkalj, M., ‘Sto godina nogometa u Glini (1913– 2013)’, Ljetopis srpskog kulturnog drusˇtva Prosvjeta 18 (2013), 247– 8. 11. Vukadinovic´, Lj., Vecˇiti rivali (Belgrade, 1943), 95; Zec, ‘Oaza normalnosti’ 51 – 2. 12. Vukadinovic´, Vecˇiti rivali. 13. Zec, ‘Oaza normalnosti’, 59 – 60. 14. Jocic´, B.R., Rajkov put do zvezda (Belgrade, 2009), 42 – 52. 15. Zec, ‘Oaza normalnosti’, 61 – 3. 16. Mirosavljevic´, B., “Vojvodina” nasˇa ljubav (Novi Sad, 1996), 58, 65; Ðurd¯ev, P. ‘Politika mad¯arskog okupatora prema fudbalskom sportu u Novom Sadu u 1941. godini’, Godisˇnjak Istorijskog arhiva grada Novog Sada 6 (2010), 207– 11.

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47 –51

321

17. Thompson, M., A Paper House: The Ending of Yugoslavia (London, 1992), 27. Slovene clubs joined the lower leagues of German and Hungarian football. ‘Annexations and Occupations’, , http://www.rsssf.com/miscellaneous/cross border.html#war. (Accessed June 2016). 18. Eterovic´, S., Ratnim stazama Hajduka (Split, 1989), 10– 13; Marusˇic´, A., Ferata: zapisi predratnog reprezentativca (Zagreb, 1982), 199– 201. NDH officials attempted to co-opt Hajduk. Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 14 – 15. Clubs from Italian towns which would subsequently be incorporated into socialist Yugoslavia after the war competed in Italy’s Serie C, but these were in areas – like Istria – which had not been part of the interwar Kingdom. 19. Kokeza, Lj., Uvijek vjeran bijelom dresu (Split, 1958), 55. 20. Vukadinovic´, Lj. (ed.), “Radnicˇki” 1920– 1955 (Belgrade, 1955), 16. See also: Krizˇevic´-Drina, A., Sportasˇi Splita u revoluciji (Split, 1982), 190; Sˇkoro, M. (ed.), Velezˇ, 1922– ’82 (Mostar, 1982), 25. Some workers’ clubs played on, whether as fronts for illegal activity, or merely because it was expedient to do so. Wartime activities caused deep embarrassment after the war, especially Zˇeljeznicˇar Nisˇ’ matches against the Luftwaffe. Ilic´, M., Zˇeljeznicˇar – Nisˇ, 1928– 1995 (Nisˇ, 1995), 118– 19. 21. Krizˇevic´-Drina, Sportasˇi Splita, 171–2; Plencˇa, D., Partizanski odredi naroda Dalmacije, 1941– 1942 (Belgrade, 1960), 99 – 107. 22. Krizˇevic´-Drina, Sportasˇi Splita, 173; Krizˇevic´-Drina, A., ‘Sportasˇi – revolucionari na sˇibenskom procesu 1942. godine’, Povijest sporta 11:42 (1980), 68 –9. 23. Including Ante Jurjevic´-Baja and Vicko Krstulovic´. Krizˇevic´-Drina, Sportasˇi Splita, 195. 24. Ibid., 148– 50, 188. 25. Vukadinovic´, “Radnicˇki”, 16. 26. Sˇkoro, Velezˇ, 28; Nalic´, M., RSD Sloboda Tuzla: 1919– 1989 (Tuzla, 1989), 49 – 50; And¯elic´, D. (ed.), Fudbalski klub Zˇeljeznicˇar, 1921– 1981 (Sarajevo, 1982), 66 – 7. 27. Cerjan, S., ‘Na putovima Revolucije’, in R. Garber (ed.), Zlatni jubilej ZNS, 1919– 1969 (Zagreb, 1970), 80. 28. And¯elic´, Zˇeljeznicˇar, 66; Krstonic´, M. & Ð. Pilcˇevic´, Pet decenija rada sportskog drusˇtva “Sloboda”: ’25 –75 Titovo Uzˇice (Titovo Uzˇice, 1975), 55. 29. Mirosavljevic´, “Vojvodina”, 61 – 3. 30. Zec, ‘Oaza normalnosti’, 64 – 8; Tubic´, M.P., Jugoslovenski sport: koreni, razvoj, razdruzˇivanje (Novi Sad, 2005), 203; Marusˇic´, Ferata, 98 – 9. 31. Flander, M. (ed.), Enciklopedija fizicˇke kulture, Vol. I (Zagreb, 1975), 229; Flander, M. (ed.), Enciklopedija fizicˇke kulture, Vol. II (Zagreb, 1977), 8; Kokeza, Uvijek vjeran, 57 – 9. 32. Dedijer, V., With Tito through the War: 1941– 1944 (London, 1951), 96. 33. Tomic´, B., Partizanska olimpijada (Focˇa, 1983), 53 – 67. 34. Edelman, R., A. Hilbrenner & S. Brownell, ‘Sport Under Communism’, in S.A. Smith (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of the History of Communism (Oxford, 2014), 610.

322

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51 –59

35. Tartalja, H., ‘Sportska djelatnost boraca VIII korpusa NOVJ 1943. i 1944. godine’, Povijest sporta 6:21 (1975), 1902. 36. Ibid., 1905. 37. Vukelic´, B., ‘Nogometna utakmica igracˇa 6. licˇke i 13. primorsko– goranske divizije u otocˇcu 1943. godine’, Povijest sporta 6:22 (1975), 2147– 9. 38. Dedijer, V., Radost i tuga fudbala (Rijeka, 1981), 31. 39. Cerjan, S., ‘Rato Dugonjic´ – Sportasˇ, revolucionar i drzˇavnik’, Povijest sporta 18:73 (1987), 205; Cerjan, S., ‘Sportski susreti tokom narodne revolucije 1941– 1945 u Hrvatskoj’, Povijest sporta 2:7 (1971), 584. 40. Huljic´, V., Vis 1941– 1945 (Split, 1979), 149– 50. 41. Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 20. Other domestic historians have explored these events, including: Cukrov, M., ‘Sˇezdeset pet godina obnove Hajduka na otoku Visu’, Basˇtina 35 (2009), 23 – 42; Kucˇic´, R., Vis 1944–2014. Dani cˇasti, ponosa i slave: 70 godina poslije (Split, 2014). 42. Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama. 43. Ibid., 21 – 5. 44. Ibid., 23. 45. Marko Gizdic´ to Sˇime Poduje, 10 April 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/4. 46. Sˇime Poduje to Marko Gizdic´, 14 April 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/6. 47. Sˇime Poduje to Janko Rodin, 14 April 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/7. 48. Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 33 –7; Sˇime Poduje to Mjesni NOO – Split, 24 April 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/18. 49. Sˇime Poduje to Mjesni NOO – Split, 2 May 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/21. 50. Janko Rodin speech at Hajduk ceremony, Vis, 7 May 1944, HR-DAST495/69/23. 51. Ibid. 52. Kokeza, Uvijek vjeran, 55 – 60. 53. Janko Rodin speech at Hajduk ceremony, Vis, 7 May 1944, HR-DAST495/69/23. Other clubs also crossed into liberated territory, including, in August 1944, the first and second teams of SK Amater (Amateur), the precursor of Rudar (Miner), Trbovlje from Slovenia. HR-DAST-495/69/55. 54. Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 51 – 5. 55. Slobodna Dalmacija, 20 April 1944. 56. Sˇime Poduje to Mjesni NOO – Split, 2 May 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/21. 57. Uprava H.Sˇ.K. Hajduk – Split, ‘Pozdrav Splitu nasˇem rodnom gradu sa oslobod¯enog teritorija’, 7 May 1944. Reproduced in Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 46. 58. HSˇK “Hajduk-NOVJ” to Gradski NOO, Split, 25 February 1945, HRDAST-495/69/143. 59. ‘Ratna kampanja Hajduka NOVJ od 13. maja 1944 do 10. septembra 1944’, 11 September 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/65; Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 59 – 68. The team of ‘No. 11 Convalescent Depot’ included professionals from Norwich City, Luton Town, Partick Thistle, Cardiff City, Portsmouth, Tottenham Hotspur, Notts County and Bristol City. ‘Programme: Specially Arranged Football Match in aid of the Yugo Slav Wounded’, Trani, 10 September 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/53.

NOTES

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59 – 65

323

60. Union Jack, 22 July 1944; Corriere dello Sport, 25 August 1944. 61. ‘Velike priznanje sportasˇima Hajduka NOVJ’, n.d., HR-DAST-495/69/66. 62. Sˇime Poduje to Propodjel Oblasnog NOO Dalmacije, 11 September 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/65. 63. Match Poster, 23 September 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/66. 64. Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 81; Cukrov, ‘Sˇezdeset pet godina’, 38. 65. Marusˇic´, Ferata, 220. 66. Kokeza, Uvijek vjeran, 72. 67. Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 83 – 4. 68. Vecˇernji list, 8 May 2014. 69. HR-DAST-495/69/66. 70. Glasnik ujedinjenih naroda, 8 October 1944; Poduje, Sˇ., Sportski memoari (Zagreb, 1955), 38. 71. ‘Pozdrav Hajduka, Tita, Jugoslavenske Armije’, Malta, n.d., HR-DAST495/70/158. 72. Times of Malta, 22 March 1945. 73. Borba, 3 April 1945. 74. ‘S “Hajdukom”, teamom Jugoslavenske Armije na Malti i u Egiptu’, Cairo, 6 April 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/189. 75. Sˇime Poduje to Secretary Football Committee, Egypt Area, 9 March 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/152; Hajduk, team Jugoslavenske Armije, to Edvard Kardelj, n.d., HR-DAST-495/70/183; Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 109. 76. ‘S Hajdukom, teamom Jugoslavenske Armije u Egiptu i El Shattu’, Cairo, 26 April 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/219. 77. ‘Dnevna Zapovjest vodje puta jedinice “Hajduk”, nog. teama Jug. Armije’, 7 April 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/232. 78. ‘S Hajdukom, teamom Jugoslavenske Armije u Egiptu i El Shattu’, Cairo, 26 April 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/219. 79. Ibid.; ‘Izvjesˇtaj o turneji Hajduka, teama Jugoslavenske Armije na Malti i po zemljama Srednjeg Istoka’, n.d., HR-DAST-495/70/267; ‘S “Hajdukom”, teamom Jugoslavenske Armije na Malti i u Egiptu’, Cairo, 6 April 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/189; ‘“Hajduk” u Palestini, Siriji i Libanonu’, 13 May 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/250; ‘Certificate of Pilgrimage’, May 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/236. 80. Hajduk-NOVJ to Sˇtab VIII Udarnog Korpusa NOVJ, 1 March 1945, HRDAST-495/70/146; ‘Darovi koje je Hajduk predao sportskim drusˇtvima i pojedincima na turneji MALTA– EGIPAT – PALESTINA – LIBAN –SIRIJA MART – JUNI 1945’, 9 June 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/271. MP40s were gifted to the Governor of Malta, the Sports Officer of the British Army on Malta, British Services All Egypt – Alexandria and the French Army in the Levant – Beirut. 81. ‘Izvjesˇtaj o turneji Hajduka, teama Jugoslavenske Armije na Malti i po zemljama Srednjeg Istoka’, n.d., HR-DAST-495/70/267. 82. Ibid. 83. ‘S Hajdukom, teamom Jugoslavenske Armije u Egiptu i El Shattu’, Cairo, 26 April 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/219.

324

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66 –70

84. Kokeza, Uvijek vjeran, 80 – 1; ‘Izvjesˇtaj o turneji Hajduka, teama Jugoslavenske Armije na Malti i po zemljama Srednjeg Istoka’, n.d., HR-DAST-495/70/267. 85. ‘Izvjesˇtaj o turneji Hajduka, teama Jugoslavenske Armije na Malti i po zemljama Srednjeg Istoka’, n.d., HR-DAST-495/70/267. 86. ‘Dnevna Zapovjest odgovornog za put jedinice “Hajduk”, nog. teama Jug. Armije’, 18 & 19 April 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/232. 87. Drugovi iz bivsˇeg VIII. korpusa (sad u sastavu IV. Armije) to Sportski klub “Hajduk”, 14 April 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/202. 88. ‘Dnevna Zapovjest vodje puta jedinice “Hajduk”, nog. teama Jug. Armije’, 23 April 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/232; Sˇpeletic´, K., Tito i sport (Zagreb, 1979), 46. 89. Author observations, April 2016. The slogan was seen at Kralja Zvonimira 15, Split. 90. Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 91 – 2. 91. ‘Hajduk – I. dalmatinske brigade’, 7 November 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/74. 92. Slobodna Dalmacija, 28 December 1944; Kokeza, Uvijek vjeran, 73 – 4; Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 93 – 4. 93. Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 94. 94. Slobodna Dalmacija, 28 December 1944. 95. Sˇtab XXVI Udarne divizije NOVJ to Uprava “Hajduka”, 14 December 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/88. 96. Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 96. 97. HSˇK “Hajduk” NOVJ to Ktarska (sic.) Narod. Oslob. Odbor “Sinj”, 9 January 1945, HR-DAST-495/69/106; Kotarski N.O.O.-Sinj to HSˇK. Hajduk NOV., 15 January 1945, HR-DAST-495/69/110. 98. Atanasiju, V., et al., FK Proleter Zrenjanin – 1947– 1967 (Zrenjanin, 1967), 44. Petrovgrad was renamed Zrenjanin in 1946. 99. Ilic´, Zˇeljeznicˇar – Nisˇ, 126; Husic´, Dzˇ. (ed.), Jubilej sportista Bosne i Hercegovine: 1945– 1955 (Sarajevo, 1955), 13. 100. Saric´, B. (ed.), Crvena zvezda 1945– 1955 (Belgrade, 1955), 24. 101. H.Sˇ.K. “Hajduk” to Drugarski Sˇtab XXVI. Divizije, 21 July 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/45. 102. Kult.-pros.Odbor, Sˇtab II. bataljona XII. Dalmat. Udarne brigade to Uprava sportskog kluba “Hajduk” N.O.V.J., 24 January 1945, HR-DAST495/69/118. See also: Sˇtab XXVI Udarne divizije NOVJ to Uprava “Hajduka”, 14 December 1944, HR-DAST-495/69/88. 103. Lieut. T. L. Matthews to Dr Sˇime Poduje, 19 January 1945, HR-DAST495/69/114. 104. Nalic´, RSD Sloboda Tuzla, 83; Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 126. 105. Krstonic´ & Pilcˇevic´, Pet decenija, 69. 106. Magdic´, ‘Nogomet u Nezavisnoj’, 57 – 9; Pavlowitch, Hitler’s New Disorder, 262. 107. Garber, R., ‘Od prve lopte do zlatnog jubileja’, in Garber, Zlatni jubilej ZNS, 45. 108. Kokeza, Uvijek vjeran, 83.

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325

109. Ibid., 84; Eterovic´, S., Z. Reic´ & N. Vukasˇin, Hajduk Split, 1911– 1981 (Split, 1981), 273. 110. Internal Hajduk correspondence, 24 September 1945, HR-DAST495/70/292. 111. Nalic´, RSD Sloboda Tuzla, 63. 112. Fiskultura, 19 September 1945. See also: Eterovic´, Ratnim stazama, 127– 36. 113. Cukrov, ‘Sˇezdeset pet godina’, 35. 114. Andjelic´, N., ‘The Rise and Fall of Yugoslavia: Politics and Football in the Service of the Nation(s)’, Su¨dosteuropa 62:2 (2014), 121. 115. Rukovodstvo Hajduka J.A. – Split to Marsˇal Tito, 24 October 1945, HR-DAST-495/70/305; Krizˇevic´-Drina, Sportasˇi Splita, 133.

Chapter 3 (Re)constructing the Yugoslav Game, 1945 –8 1. Mirosavljevic´, B., “Vojvodina” nasˇa ljubav (Novi Sad, 1996), 59, 65. 2. Sindbæk, T., Usable History? Representations of Yugoslavia’s Difficult Past from 1945 to 2002 (Aarhus, 2012), 32 – 3. 3. Singleton, F., A Short History of the Yugoslav Peoples (Cambridge, 1989), 204– 7, 213. 4. Fiskultura, 5 May 1945. 5. Fiskultura, 5 December 1945; Zec, D., ‘Oaza normalnosti ili tuzˇna slika stvarnosti? Fudbal u okupiranoj Srbiji (1941 – 1944)’, Godisˇnjak za drusˇtvenu istoriju 3 (2011), 52, 60; Dedijer, V., The Beloved Land (New York, 1961), 109. 6. Fiskultura, 5 December 1945. 7. Riordan, J., Sport in Soviet Society: Development of Sport and Physical Education in Russia and the USSR (Cambridge, 1978), 68 – 71, 112– 13; Edelman, R., Spartak Moscow: A History of the People’s Team in the Worker’s State (Ithaca, 2009), 52 – 3, 63 – 4. 8. Fiskultura, 24 May 1945. 9. Ibid., 5 December 1945. 10. Ibid., 24 May 1945. 11. Ibid., 5 May 1945. 12. Sindbæk, Usable History?, 43. 13. Fiskultura, 5 May 1945. 14. Mirosavljevic´, “Vojvodina”, 93 – 5. 15. Uzelac, Z., V. Skendzˇic´ & D. Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj partijske komisije o nekim negativnim pojavama u sportu’, 10 December 1950, in B. Vojnovic´ (ed.), Zapisnici politbiroa centralnog komiteta komunisticˇke partije Hrvatske, 1945– 1952., Svezak 2, 1949– 1952. (Zagreb, 2006), 595. 16. Todic´, M. (ed.), 90 godina romantike: Ilustrovana istorija OFK Beograd (Belgrade, 2001), 41 – 2. 17. Bulja, T. & P. ¯Dord¯evic´ (eds), BSK 1945– 1955 (Belgrade, 1955), 6.

326

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77 –82

18. Ibid., 18 – 19. When Vladimir Dedijer, editor of the party newspaper Borba at the time of the name change, was asked whether it was problematic, he reportedly stated: ‘Why would there be a problem? BSK is a lovely name’. Todic´, 90 Godina, 47. 19. Uzelac, Skendzˇic´ & Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj’, 595. 20. Mirosavljevic´, “Vojvodina”, 59, 66, 73, 92. 21. Sport magazin, 25 July 1990. 22. Bosiljcˇic´, D., P. Vukovic´ & D. Sˇercˇic´ (eds), Partizan sportsko drusˇtvo Jugoslovenske armije (Belgrade, 1951), 52. 23. Uzelac, Skendzˇic´ & Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj’, 592. 24. Ibid., 589, 594. 25. Singleton, Yugoslav Peoples, 206. 26. Kokeza, Lj., Uvijek vjeran bijelom dresu (Split, 1958), 88. 27. Krstonic´, M. & Ð. Pilcˇevic´, Pet decenija rada sportskog drusˇtva “Sloboda”: 25 –75 Titovo Uzˇice (Titovo Uzˇice, 1975), 10, 73. 28. Vilovac, J. (ed.), F.K. Vojvodina 1914– 1964: Pola veka (Novi Sad, 1964), 24. 29. Fiskultura, 1 November 1945. 30. Singleton, Yugoslav Peoples, 209– 12. 31. Hajduk N.O.V.J. to Drug Peric´, 2 January 1945, Drzˇavni arhiv u Splitu (HR-DAST) F.495 (Nogometni klub Hajduk) /69/104. 32. ‘Miroslav Kreacˇic´ – Za unapred¯enje nasˇeg futbala (na III savetovanju COFSJ o futbalu)’, in M. Kreacˇic´, et al., Za unapred¯enje nasˇeg futbala (Belgrade, 1947), 11. 33. Riordan, J., ‘The Impact of Communism on Sport’, Historical Social Research 32:1 (2007), 113. 34. On the occasion of a friendly between Red Star and TsDKA, Fiskultura carried a telegram from Tito in honour of Stalin’s 66th birthday: Fiskultura, 23 December 1945. 35. Internal Hajduk correspondence, 16 September 1945, HR-DAST/495/70/286. 36. Dedijer, V., The Battle Stalin Lost: Memoirs of Yugoslavia, 1948– 1953 (New York, 1971), 161; Primorski vjesnik, 2, 7 August 1946. 37. Kokeza, Uvijek vjeran, 91. 38. Stanisˇic´, B.Ð., Plavi, Plavi! (Belgrade, 1969), 125– 9. 39. Perica, V., Balkan Idols: Religion and Nationalism in Yugoslav States (Oxford, 2002), 94. 40. ‘Stenografske belesˇke osnivacˇke skupsˇtine FSJ 8 Septembra 1948. God’, Arhiv Jugoslavije (AJ), F.734 (Fudbalski savez Jugoslavije), R-1; ‘Pravila Futbalskog Saveza Jugoslavije’, (c.1950), 1, Arhiv Vojvodine (AV), RS 002 F.268 (Pokrajinski odbor Fudbalskog saveza Srbije za Vojvodinu), /K-1; ‘Pravila Futbalskog Saveza N.R. Srbije’, (c.1950), 1, AV-RS002/268/K1. During the immediate postwar years, the Football Committee of the Physical Culture Association of Yugoslavia (Fiskulturni savez Jugoslavije, FISAJ) administered the game. 41. Fiskultura, 5 May 1945. 42. Kos, M., Bobek: fudbal – moj zˇivot (Belgrade, 1982), 21. Dinamo played matches at the stadium of disbanded Grad¯anski, before moving to the former

NOTES

43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48.

49. 50. 51. 52.

53. 54. 55.

56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61.

TO PAGES

82 –86

327

home of HASˇK. Many Grad¯anski players continued their careers at Dinamo, taking supporters and the club’s blue colours with them. Dinamo, March 1991. Dedijer, V., Radost i tuga fudbala (Rijeka, 1981), 32 – 5. See also: Dedijer, Battle Stalin Lost, 160; Jocic´, B.R., Rajkov put do zvezda (Belgrade, 2009), 86. Dedijer, Radost i tuga, 37 – 8. Husic´, Dzˇ. (ed.), Jubilej sportista Bosne i Hercegovine (Sarajevo, 1955), 14. Kovacˇevic´, M., et al., Cˇetiri decenije FK Dinamo (Pancˇevo, 1985), 22. Fiskultura, 24 May 1945. Nalic´, M. (ed.), RSD Sloboda Tuzla, 1919 – 1989 (Tuzla, 1989), 48. Immaculate interwar records and wartime contributions were no guarantee of survival. The revolution brought significant disruption to some, including Zˇeljeznicˇar and Radnicˇki Nisˇ. In a process repeated in other large cities, halfway through the 1946– 7 season these teams merged to form the potentially stronger 14. Oktobar Physical Culture Society. Politically motivated mergers were extremely unpopular. Historian Miladin Ilic´ describes 14. Oktobar as ‘nobody’s society’, because nobody felt any emotional attachment to it. Nevertheless, anyone who voiced opposition was denounced as an ‘ideological enemy’. Such unloved societies were short-lived: 14. Oktobar performed disastrously in the league, finishing in the relegation zone. Recognised as a failure, 14. Oktobar was disbanded, while Radnicˇki and Zˇeljeznicˇar reemerged. Ilic´, M., Zˇeljeznicˇar – Nisˇ, 1928– 1995 (Nisˇ, 1995), 163– 9. Kovacˇevic´, Cˇetiri decenije, 11 –12. In Subotica, the new sports association was named in honour of fallen partisan commander and interwar athlete Jovan Mikic´ ‘Spartak’. On the following day, the Town Committee ratified the addition of ‘Tito’s’ to Uzˇice’s name. Krstonic´ & Pilcˇevic´, Pet decenija, 75 – 6. Ilic´, Zˇeljeznicˇar, 145. Riordan, ‘Impact of Communism’, 112; Starc, G., ‘Sportsmen of Yugoslavia, Unite – Workers’ Sport between Leisure and Work’, in B. Luther & M. Pusˇnik (eds), Remembering Utopia: The Culture of Everyday Life in Socialist Yugoslavia (Washington, DC, 2010), 263– 4. ‘Pravila Futbalskog Saveza Jugoslavije’, 2– 3. ‘Pravila Futbalskog Odbora Vojvodine’, 19 July 1952, 1, AV-RS002/268/K-1. ‘Nastavni program za ispite instruktura i trenera iz 1949.’, Strucˇni vjesnik 3 (Zagreb, 1949), reproduced in I. Janesˇ (ed.), 25 godina Saveza nogometnih trenera Hrvatske (Zagreb, 1975), 41 – 8; Garber, R. (ed.), Zlatni jubilej ZNS, 1919– 1969 (Zagreb, 1970), 95. Kos, Bobek, 22, 88. Starc, ‘Sportsmen of Yugoslavia’, 263– 4. Krstonic´ & Pilcˇevic´, Pet decenija, 73, 161. Bosiljcˇic´, Vukovic´ & Sˇercˇic´, Partizan, 14 – 15. Mirosavljevic´, “Vojvodina”, 92 – 3, 96; Tubic´, Jugoslovenski sport, 235. ‘Izvesˇtaj o radu komiteta za fiskulturu vlade FNRJ u toku 1947 godine’, 10, Arhiv Jugoslavije (AJ), F.321 (Komitet za fiskulturu vlade F.N.R.J.), /f.8.

328

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62. Bosiljcˇic´, Vukovic´ & Sˇercˇic´, Partizan, 6 – 7; ‘Zakljucˇci prvog plenarnog sastanka Komiteta za fiskulturu pri Vladi FNRJ odrzˇanog na dan 19 i 20 decembra 1946 godine u Beogradu’, AJ-321/f.8; Vukadinovic´, Lj. (ed.), Nasˇ sport u 1948 godini (Belgrade, 1949), 14. 63. Borba, 13 July 1952. 64. ‘Aproksimativni trosˇkovnik za gradnju igralisˇta F.D. “Polet” u Pagu’, (n.d.), AJ-321/f.44. 65. Krstonic´ & Pilcˇevic´, Pet decenija, 70– 5. 66. Vesti, 28 September 1946. 67. Djilas, M., Wartime (London, 1977), 103– 5. 68. Matovinovic´, I., Pola stoljec´a “Orijenta” (Rijeka, 1970), 111– 24. 69. Divcˇic´, D. (ed.), Pet decenija drzˇavnih prvenstava (Belgrade, 1975), 11 – 45. 70. Fiskultura, 19 September 1945. 71. Ibid. 72. Internal Hajduk correspondence, 31 September 1945, HR-DAST/495/70/278; Hajduk correspondence, 8 September 1945, HR-DAST/495/70/280; Internal Hajduk correspondence, 13 September 1945, HR-DAST/495/70/283; Kokeza, Uvijek vjeran, 87. 73. Primorski vjesnik, 1, 31 May, 7 August 1946; Zˇic, I., A Short History of the City of Rijeka (Rijeka, 2007), 159. 74. Nasˇ sport, 23 July 1946. Kosovar clubs were initially incorporated into the Serbian league system. Fiskultura, 6 January 1946. The first provincial championship in Kosovo was held in 1948. Hoxha, S., ‘Sportska drusˇtva i klubovi u SAP Kosovu u poslijeratnom razdoblju (1945 – 1950), Povijest sporta 21:85 (1990), 62. 75. Sluga, G., The Problem of Trieste and the Italo – Yugoslav Border: Difference, Identity, and Sovereignty in Twentieth-Century Europe (Albany, 2001), 85. 76. Nasˇ sport, 22 October 1946. 77. Radosavljevic´, N., ‘Kad je Trst bio nasˇ’, Sportske.net, 28 February 2012. ,http://www.sportske.net/blog/nikola-radosavljevic/kad-je-trst-bio-nas69491.html. (Accessed August 2014); Andjelic´, N., ‘The Rise and Fall of Yugoslavia: Politics and Football in the Service of the Nation(s)’, Su¨dosteuropa 62:2 (2014), 112– 13; Cycling served to integrate Trieste into interwar Italy, when race organisers included the city in the 1919 Giro d’Italia. Cardoza, A., ‘“Making Italians”? Cycling and National Identity in Italy, 1900– 1950’, Journal of Modern Italian Studies 15:3 (2010), 363. 78. Nasˇ sport, 24 December 1946. 79. Sluga, Problem of Trieste, 61. 80. Radosavljevic´, ‘Kad je Trst’. 81. ‘Stenografske belesˇke’. 82. Zec, D., ‘Od uzornog omladinca do butovnika bez razloga – popularne predstave o fudbalerima u Jugoslaviji 50-ih i 60-ih godina 20. veka’, in Z. Janjetovic´ (ed.), Istorijska tribina: Istrazˇivanja mladih saradnika instituta za noviju istoriju Srbije (Belgrade, 2016), 126. 83. Lazzarich, M., Kantrida bijelh snova (Rijeka, 2008), 204.

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84. Primorski vjesnik, 11 August 1946; Vujnovic´, V. (ed.), NK Rijeka, 1946. – 1976. (Rijeka, 1976), 10; Zˇic, Rijeka, 168. 85. Primorski vjesnik, 21 August, 22 September, 6 October 1946. 86. Ilic´, Zˇeljeznicˇar, 154– 5; Vujnovic´, NK Rijeka, 9. 87. Vujnovic´, NK Rijeka, 40. 88. Primorski vjesnik, 20, 25 October 1946; Zˇic, Rijeka, 168. 89. Vukadinovic´, Lj., Jugoslovenski futbal (Belgrade, 1950), 2. 90. Edelman, B. & J. Riordan, ‘USSR/Russia and the World Cup: Come on you Reds!’, in J. Sugden & A. Tomlinson (eds), Hosts and Champions: Soccer Cultures, National Identities and the USA World Cup (Aldershot, 1994), 256– 7. See also: Sugden, J. & A. Tomlinson, ‘Football, Ressentiment and Resistance in the Break-up of the Former Soviet Union’, Culture Sport Society 3:2 (2000), 95 – 6. 91. Prozumenshchikov, M., ‘Gamesmanship in the “Game of Millions”’, Russian Studies in History 49:2 (2010), 14 – 15. 92. Lampe, J.R., Yugoslavia as History: Twice There was a Country (Cambridge, 2003), 336. 93. Vukadinovic´, Jugoslovenski futbal, 2 – 3; Kreacˇic´, Za unapred¯enje, 58. 94. Vukadinovic´, Nasˇ sport, 64. 95. ‘Miroslav Kreacˇic´ – Za unapred¯enje’, 8. 96. Mitchell, K., ‘Monuments, Memorials, and the Politics of Memory’, Urban Geography 24:5 (2003), 442– 59. 97. Bosiljcˇic´, Vukovic´ & Sˇercˇic´, Partizan, 8 – 9. 98. Hajduk to F.D. Crvena zvezda, Fiskulturni odbor Jugoslavije & Fiskulturni odbor Beograd, 15 October 1945, HR-DAST/495/70/302. 99. F.D. Hajduk to F.D. Crvena zvezda, 19 October 1945, HR-DAST/ 495/70/303. 100. Eterovic´, S., Z. Reic´ & N. Vukasˇin, Hajduk Split 1911– 1981 (Split, 1981), 273. 101. Nasˇ sport, 10 September 1946. 102. Ibid. 103. Uzelac, Skendzˇic´ & Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj’, 589, 594. 104. Nasˇ sport, 10 September 1946. 105. Ibid. 106. Primorski vjesnik, 17 July, 27 September 1946. 107. ‘Miroslav Kreacˇic´ – Za unapred¯enje’, 14. 108. Ibid., 15. 109. Ibid. 110. Uzelac, Skendzˇic´ & Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj’, 586. 111. Ibid. 112. Ibid., 586– 7. 113. Ibid. 114. Ibid., 593. 115. Ibid., 588. 116. Ibid., 589– 90. 117. ‘Stenografske belesˇke’, 2. 118. Uzelac, Skendzˇic´ & Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj’, 593–4.

330

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100 –106

119. Ibid., 601– 2. 120. Cardoza, ‘“Making Italians”?’, 363.

Chapter 4 A ‘Golden Age’? Prestige, Problems and the ‘Third Way’ after 1948 1. Kos, M., Bobek: Fudbal – moj zˇivot (Belgrade, 1982), 31 – 2. 2. Rubinstein, A.Z., Yugoslavia and the Nonaligned World (Princeton, 1970), 187. 3. Mitic´, R. & S. Bobek, Olimpiski dnevnik (Belgrade, 1952). For football’s role in the Split see: Mills, R., ‘Cold War Football: Soviet Defence and Yugoslav Attack following the Tito – Stalin Split of 1948’, Europe – Asia Studies 68:10 (2016), 1736 –58. 4. Clissold, S. (ed.), Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union, 1939– 1975 (Oxford, 1975), 175. 5. Swain, G., Tito: A Biography (London, 2011), 102– 3. 6. Haug, H.K., Creating a Socialist Yugoslavia: Tito, Communist Leadership and the National Question (London, 2012), 138– 9. 7. Starc, G., ‘Sportsmen of Yugoslavia, Unite – Workers’ Sport between Leisure and Work’, in B. Luther & M. Pusˇnik (eds), Remembering Utopia: The Culture of Everyday Life in Socialist Yugoslavia (Washington, DC, 2010), 265. 8. ‘Nastavni program za ispite instruktura i trenera iz 1949.’, Strucˇni vjesnik 3 (Zagreb, 1949), reproduced in I. Janesˇ (ed.), 25 godina Saveza nogometnih trenera Hrvatske (Zagreb, 1975), 41 – 8. 9. Parks, J., ‘Verbal Gymnastics: Sports, Bureaucracy, and the Soviet Union’s Entrance Into the Olympic Games, 1946– 1952’, in S. Wagg & D. Andrews (eds), East Plays West: Sport and the Cold War (London, 2012), 33 – 9. 10. Mitic´ & Bobek, Olimpiski dnevnik, 11. 11. Sport, 19 July 1952. 12. Rijecˇki list, 21 February 1952. 13. Sport, 19 July 1952. 14. Kos, M., Bobek: Fudbal – moj zˇivot (Belgrade, 1982), 45 – 6. 15. Andrejevic´, M., Dugo putovanje kroz fudbal i medicinu (Gornji Milanovac, 1989), 175– 6. 16. Dedijer, V., The Battle Stalin Lost: Memoirs of Yugoslavia, 1948– 1953 (New York, 1971), 306– 7. 17. Mitic´ & Bobek, Olimpiski dnevnik, 21 – 2. 18. Sport, 23 July 1952. 19. Singleton, F., A Short History of Finland (Cambridge, 1989), 143– 52. 20. Mitic´ & Bobek, Olimpiski dnevnik, 23; Kramer, F., Stjepan Bobek-Sˇtef: nogomet je moj zˇivot (Zagreb, 2008), 336. 21. Sport, 23 July 1952. 22. Mitic´ & Bobek, Olimpiski dnevnik, 27 – 8. 23. Sport, 23 July 1952. 24. Oslobod¯enje, 31 July 1952.

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331

25. Jocic´, B.R., Rajkov put do zvezda (Belgrade, 2009), 149. 26. Sport, 23 July 1952; Oslobod¯enje, 23 July 1952; Dedijer, Battle Stalin Lost, 307– 8. 27. Sport, 14 August 1952. 28. TsDKA, the Red Army team, was disbanded shortly after the defeat. Players and coaches were stripped of sporting honours. Edelman, R., Serious Fun: A History of Spectator Sports in the USSR (New York, 1993), 105; Edelman, R., Spartak Moscow: A History of the People’s Team in the Workers’ State (Ithaca, 2009), 191– 2. 29. Sport, 23 July 1952. 30. Kajan, Dzˇ., Bilo jednom na Grbavici (Sarajevo, 2007), 77. 31. Andjelic´, N., ‘The Rise and Fall of Yugoslavia: Politics and Football in the Service of the Nation(s)’, Su¨dosteuropa 62:2 (2014), 114. 32. Kos, Bobek, 21. 33. Zdunic´, D. (ed.), Enciklopedija jugoslavenskog nogometa (Zagreb, 1974), 155– 68. 34. Stanisˇic´, B.Ð., Plavi, Plavi! (Belgrade, 1969), 182, 213– 14, 221. 35. They were Vladimir Beara, Zlatko Cˇajkovski, Bernard Vukas and Branko Zebec. Football in Yugoslavia (Belgrade, 1955), 20. 36. Kokeza, Lj., Uvijek vjeran bijelom dresu (Split, 1958), 94. 37. Bosiljcˇic´, D., P. Vukovic´ & D. Sˇercˇic´ (eds), Partizan sportsko drusˇtvo Jugoslovenske armije (Belgrade, 1951), 1. 38. Kokeza, Uvijek vjeran, 133. 39. Gligoric´, M., Tito o fizicˇkoj kulturi i sportu (Belgrade, 1978), 10. 40. Rubinstein, Yugoslavia and the Nonaligned World, 248– 9; Stanisˇic´, Plavi, Plavi!, 134. 41. Rubinstein, Yugoslavia and the Nonaligned World, 33– 4, 39, 43– 4. 42. Sport, 29 October 1952. 43. Saric´, B. (ed.), Crvena zvezda, 1945 –1955 (Belgrade, 1955), 20; Kramer, Stjepan Bobek-Sˇtef, 153; Futbal, 22 February 1955. 44. Futbal, 10 February 1954. 45. Ibid. 46. Eterovic´, S., Z. Reic´ & N. Vukasˇin, Hajduk Split, 1911– 1981 (Split, 1981), 260; Babic´, J. (ed.), Almanah 20 godina FK “Sarajevo”, 1947– 1967 (Sarajevo, 1967), 18. 47. Bulja, T. & P. Ðord¯evic´, BSK, 1945–1955 (Belgrade, 1955), 117; Futbal, 22 February 1955. 48. Bosˇkov, V., Aziska turneja: Burma, Indonezija, Kina (Novi Sad, 1956), 5 – 6. 49. Ibid., 77. 50. Ibid., 60. 51. Ibid., 19. 52. Ibid., 21, 30 – 2, 55 – 6. 53. Ibid., 65, 77 – 8. 54. Rijecˇki list, 11 November 1952. 55. Ibid., 11, 14 September 1956; Magdic´, Z., Vatreni: 60 utakmica Hrvatske 1940. – 1997. (Zelina, 1997), 85 – 6. 56. Rijecˇki list, 25 December 1956.

332

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113 –117

57. Sˇkoro, M. (ed.), Velezˇ, 1922– ’82 (Mostar, 1982), 86 – 91. 58. Rubinstein, Yugoslavia and the Nonaligned World, 187. Hajduk played on all five continents. Kokeza, Uvijek vjeran, 115. 59. Football in Yugoslavia, 4 – 5. 60. Chehat, F., ‘1958 – 1962, La grande saga de l’e´quipe du FLN’, Actualite´s de l’Immigration 97 (1987), 129– 31. 61. Rubinstein, Yugoslavia and the Nonaligned World, 212– 3; Bogavac, B., ‘Yugoslavia and International Technical Cooperation’, Review of International Affairs 19:430 (1968), 24 – 5. 62. Jakovina, T., Trec´a strana hladnog rata (Zapresˇic´, 2011), 480. 63. ‘Izvesˇtaj o radu sekretarijata Saveza fudbalskih trenera Jugoslavije za period od III do IV sednice Izvrsˇnog odbora SFTJ’, 9 June 1969, 4 – 5, in Zapisnici Saveza fudbalskih trenera Jugoslavije od 30 IX 1967 do 12 XII 1970, Belgrade: Savez fudbalskih trenera Jugoslavije, Arhiv Jugoslavije (AJ), F. 734 (Fudbalski savez Jugoslavije), /K-82. 64. ‘Zapisnik sa 36. sednice sekretarijata SFTJ’, 8 June 1970, 1 – 2, in Zapisnici Saveza fudbalskih trenera. 65. ‘Zapisnik sa 18. sednice sekretarijata Saveza fudbalskih trenera Jugoslavije’, 2 December 1968, 1, in Zapisnici Saveza fudbalskih trenera; ‘Zapisnik sa 19. sednice sekretarijata Saveza fudbalskih trenera Jugoslavije’, 13 December 1968, 1, in Zapisnici Saveza fudbalskih trenera. 66. ‘Izvesˇtaj o radu sekretarijata Saveza fudbalskih trenera Jugoslavije za period od V sednice Izvrsˇnog odbora SFTJ do 1. Juna 1970. Godine’, 1 June 1970, 3, in Zapisnici Saveza fudbalskih trenera, 3; Kajan, Bilo jednom, 19. 67. Kos, Bobek, 121. 68. Vukovic´, J., Raki: Jedna karijera (Belgrade, 2008), 71 – 7. 69. Cˇop, V., Fizicˇka kultura i sport nesvrstanih (Belgrade, 1981), 19 –38. 70. Hawkey, I., Feet of the Chameleon: The Story of African Football (London, 2010), 52; Bosˇkov, Aziska turneja, 73. 71. Jakovina, Trec´a strana, 477. 72. Gizdic´, J. & R. Kucˇic´, Stari plac: Od ledine do legende (Split, 2009). 73. Borba, 1 November 1950; Uzelac, Z., V. Skendzˇic´ & D. Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj partijske komisije o nekim negativnim pojavama u sportu’, 10 December 1950, in B. Vojnovic´ (ed.), Zapisnici politbiroa centralnog komiteta komunisticˇke partije Hrvatske, 1945– 1952., Svezak 2, 1949– 1952. (Zagreb, 2006), 595– 7; Lalic´, D., Torcida: pogled iznutra (Zagreb, 1993), 85. 74. Uzelac, Skendzˇic´ & Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj’, 597. 75. Borba, 30 October 1950. 76. Uzelac, Skendzˇic´ & Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj’, 604. Borba singles out Frane Matosˇic´’s particularly rough behaviour, noting that while the hosts’ play was characteristically violent, ‘Matosˇic´ was the main bearer of the severely coarse play’. Stankovic´ is portrayed as the main recipient. Borba, 30 October 1950. Blazˇ Duplancˇic´, drawing upon Croatian press reports, presents Stankovic´’s conduct in a more negative light. Duplancˇic´, B., 1950. godina Hajduka i Torcide (Split, 2012), 76 – 7, 104– 5.

NOTES

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333

77. Borba, 30 October 1950; Duplancˇic´, 1950., 73 – 8; ‘Zapisnik sjednice izvrsˇnog odbora nogometnih sudaca Dalmacije’, 23 January 1951, Odbor nogometnih sudaca Dalmacije: Zapisnici 1951, Drzˇavni arhiv u Splitu (HR-DAST), F.145 (Nogometni podsavez Dalmacije, unsorted materials), Knjiga 3. 78. Uzelac, Skendzˇic´ & Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj’, 597. 79. Borba, 1 November 1950. 80. Ibid. 81. Lalic´, Torcida, 86 – 7. 82. Uzelac, Skendzˇic´ & Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj’, 598, 600. See also: Duplancˇic´, 1950., 90 – 123. 83. ‘Zapisnik sjednice biroa CK KP Hrvatske odrzˇane u Zagrebu dana 19. XII.1950 g. u 17 sati.’, in Vojnovic´, Zapisnici, 575. 84. Lalic´, Torcida, 85 – 7. See Zvonimir Magdic´’s depiction from the late 1990s: Magdic´, Z., Tako je zˇivio i igrao Bernard Vukas Bajdo (Zagreb, 1998), 143– 8. 85. Uzelac, Skendzˇic´ & Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj’, 599, 603. 86. Magdic´, Tako je zˇivio, 146. 87. Uzelac, Skendzˇic´ & Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj’, 598, 604. 88. Ibid., 604; ‘Zapisnik sjednice biroa CK KP Hrvatske odrzˇane u Zagrebu dana 19.XII.1950 g. u 17 sati.’, in Vojnovic´, Zapisnici, 575. 89. Uzelac, Skendzˇic´ & Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj’, 600, 604. 90. ‘Zapisnik’, 1 April 1956, Fudbalski savez Jugoslavije 1955 g., HRDAST/145; Nogometni podsavez Dalmacije to Disciplinski sud FSJ, 24 December 1954, HR-DAST/145. 91. Lalic´, Torcida, 87; Skendzˇic´, V., ‘Zapisnik sijednice biroa CK KP Hrvatske, odrzˇane dne, 14.VIII.1951 g.’, in Vojnovic´, Zapisnici, 813. 92. Uzelac, Skendzˇic´ & Kovacˇevic´, ‘Izvesˇtaj’, 602– 3; ‘Zapisnik sjednice biroa CK KP Hrvatske odrzˇane u Zagrebu dana 19.XII.1950 g. u 17 sati.’, in Vojnovic´, Zapisnici, 575; Lalic´, Torcida, 87. 93. Kljuic´, S., Ferhatovic´, majstor driblinga (Sarajevo, 2007), 6, 54; Topcˇic´, Z., Pape: Romansirana biografija Safeta Susˇic´a (Zenica, 2007), 66 – 8. 94. Author interview with Senad Dizdarevic´, Sarajevo, 25 November 2015; Kljuic´, Ferhatovic´, 76. 95. Zec, D., ‘Od uzornog omladinca do butovnika bez razloga – popularne predstave o fudbalerima u Jugoslaviji 50-ih i 60-ih godina 20. veka’, in Z. Janjetovic´ (ed.), Istorijska tribina: Istrazˇivanja mladih saradnika instituta za noviju istoriju Srbije (Belgrade, 2016), 121– 5. 96. Kusturica, E. (dir.), Otac na sluzˇbenom putu/When father was away on business (Sarajevo, 1985). 97. Patterson, P.H., Bought & Sold: Living and Losing the Good Life in Socialist Yugoslavia (Ithaca, 2011), 24 – 9. 98. Gizdic´ & Kucˇic´, Stari plac, 72; Duplancˇic´, 1950., 61. 99. Patterson, Bought & Sold, 19, 33. 100. Tadic´, D., Sˇest decenija sportskog drusˇtva “Radnicˇki”, 1923– 1983 (Kragujevac, 1984), 260.

334

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101. Singleton, F., A Short History of the Yugoslav Peoples (Cambridge, 1989), 232. 102. Patterson, Bought & Sold, 40; Zec, ‘Od uzornog’, 127– 8. 103. Starc, G., ‘Bad Game, Good Game, Whose Game? Seeing a History of Soccer through Slovenian Press Coverage’, Journal of Sport History 34:3 (2007), 445. See also: Starc, ‘Sportsmen of Yugoslavia, Unite’, 276, 283; Gerc, S., Crna strana YU nogometa (Gospic´, 1982), 25. 104. Futbal, 17 August, 28 September 1954, 18 January, 24 April 1955. 105. Popovic´, S. (dir.), Svi na more (Belgrade, 1952). 106. Vajda, M. (dir.), Sˇeki snima, pazi se (Zagreb, 1962); Zec, ‘Od uzornog’, 128– 30. 107. Hasanagic´, M., ‘Sarajevo na Miljacki hladnoj’ (Zagreb, 1967); Dzˇajic´, D., ‘Devojko crnooka’ (Aleksandrovac, 1967). 108. Divcˇic´, D. (ed.), Pet decenija drzˇavnih prvenstava (Belgrade, 1975), 68, 140. 109. Dedijer, V., Tito Speaks: His Self Portrait and Struggle with Stalin (London, 1954), 428. 110. ‘Zapisnik sjednice biroa CK KP Hrvatske odrzˇane u Zagrebu dana 19. XII.1950 g. u 17 sati.’, in Vojnovic´, Zapisnici, 575. 111. Hudelist, D., Tud¯man: Biografija (Zagreb, 2004), 211– 14. 112. Zdunic´, Enciklopedija, 122– 48. 113. Rijecˇki list, 28 November, 23 December 1952; ‘Zapisnik’, 16 March 1950, Zbor nogometnih sudaca Split, Zapisnici 1948– 1950, HR-DAST/145, Knjiga 4. 114. Kajan, Dzˇ., Bilo jednom na Grbavici (Sarajevo, 2007), 82 – 98. Belgrade academic Rajko Vracˇar recalled that media coverage of Partizan had a similar impact in his native Montenegro. Partizanov vesnik, 17 October 1992. 115. Author interview with Senad Dizdarevic´. 116. Tomasˇevic´, B., Life and Death in the Balkans (London, 2008), 402– 12. 117. Kramer, F. (ed.), Dinamo Zagreb, 1945– 1975 (Zagreb, 1975), 129; Zˇaja, T. (dir.), Generacija 1967 (Zagreb, 2013). 118. Lanfranchi, P. & M. Taylor, Moving with the Ball: The Migration of Professional Footballers (Oxford, 2001), 118. 119. Singleton, Yugoslav Peoples, 242– 3. 120. Gjuric´, J., “Rijeka”: Kvarnerski majstor (Zagreb, 1959), 7 – 9. 121. Narodni sport, 14 July 1958. 122. Garber, R. (ed.), Zlatni jubilej ZNS, 1919– 1969 (Zagreb, 1970), 54. 123. Author interview with Niko Franusˇic´, Knin, 29 April 2016; Dujmovic´, M. & A. Livaja, Nogometni klub Dinara Knin, 1913– 2013 (Knin, 2013), 41; Registracija igracˇa god 1952, 21 – 3, HR-DAST/145, Knjiga 13. 124. Singleton, Yugoslav Peoples, 232– 3. 125. Gerc, Crna strana, 91 –2. 126. Rijecˇki list, 28 November 1952. See also: ‘Izvjesˇtaj o negativnim i nesportskim pojavama’, 30 September 1954, Nogometni savez Hrvatske – Zagreb 1954. g., HR-DAST/145; ‘Izvjesˇtaj o Hrvatsko – Slovenskoj ligi’, 1 August 1954, Nogometni savez Hrvatske – Zagreb 1954. g., HR-DAST/145. 127. Lemesˇic´, L., ‘Dodatak sudacˇkom izvjesˇtaju sa utakmice “Lovcˇen” – “Vardar”, 21 July 1956, Sudacˇki izvjesˇtaji 1955/1956, HR-DAST/145. 128. Rijecˇki list, 1 March 1952.

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129. Nogometni centar Zadar to Splitski nogometni podsavez, 19 October 1953, Nogometni centar – Zadar god. 1953, HR-DAST/145. 130. Jovic´, D., ‘Yugoslavism and Yugoslav Communism: From Tito to Kardelj’, in D. Djokic´ (ed.), Yugoslavism: Histories of a Failed Idea: 1918– 1992 (Madison, 2003), 157– 81. 131. Hudelist, Tud¯man, 216. 132. Ibid., 216– 17. 133. Ibid., 216. 134. Prozumenshchikov, M., ‘Gamesmanship in the “Game of Millions”’, Russian Studies in History 49:2 (2010), 6 – 50; Edelman, Serious Fun, 5 – 6. 135. Gerc, Crna strana, 15 –16. 136. ‘Pismo Centralnog komiteta Komunisticˇke partije Jugoslavije: O stanju i zadacima u fiskulturi’, published in Rijecˇki list, 5 Feburary 1952. 137. Ibid. 138. Gerc, Crna strana, 26 –30. 139. Dedijer, Battle Stalin Lost, 160– 1. 140. Gerc, Crna strana, 30 –3. 141. Statut i pravilnici Futbalskog saveza Jugoslavije (Belgrade, 1955), 9 – 10, 53. 142. ‘Saopc´enje N.K. “Hajduka” o prekidu odnosa sa F.K. “Crvena zvezda”’, 16 July 1955, “Hajduk” – Split 1955 g., HR-DAST/145. See also: Gerc, 49 – 50. 143. Rijecˇki list, 4, 14, 19 December 1951. 144. Bjelica, S., ‘“Slucˇaj Veselinovic´” iz 1953. godine’, Godisˇnjak Istorijskog arhiva grada Novog Sada 4:4 (2010), 23 – 49, 35. 145. ‘Pismo Centralnog komiteta’. 146. Rijecˇki list, 17 February 1952. 147. Ibid., 1 February, 2 July 1952. 148. Ibid., 8 August, 30 September 1952; Futbal, 31 August 1954. 149. The Second League was variously a united competition (1947 – 51; 1953– 5; 1988– 91); divided between east and west (1958– 68; 1973– 88); or between north, south, east and west (1968 – 73). Divcˇic´, Pet decenija, 209– 19. The structure of leagues below this level changed constantly. Cvjetkovic´, N., NK “Naprijed” Hreljin, 1922– 1997 (Rijeka, 1997), 86 – 7, 95, 152, 287. 150. Rijecˇki list, 1 February 1952. 151. ‘Pravilnik o zakljucˇivanju medjunarodnih utakmica’, in Statut i pravilnici, 88 – 93. 152. Rijecˇki list, 29 January 1952. 153. Hrvatski nogometni savez to Nogometni podsavez Dalmacije, 12 July 1954, Nogometni savez Hrvatske – Zagreb 1954 g., HR-DAST/145. 154. Gerc, Crna strana, 55 – 7. See also: Novi list, 21 August 1956. One year later Hu¨gl’s ban was lifted by the SFTJ. 155. Gerc, Crna strana, 112–17. 156. Dani, 25 February 2000. 157. Gerc, Crna strana, 118. 158. Ibid., 118– 19; Kajan, Dzˇ., Tandem (Sarajevo, 2003).

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136 –145

Chapter 5 Keeping the Revolution Alive: The Long 1970s 1. ‘Album sa fotografijama, 1919– 1969’, 1969, Arhiv Jugoslavije (AJ), F.734 (Fudbalski savez Jugoslavije), /K-107. 2. Anderson, B., Imagined Communities (London, 2006), 159– 60. 3. ‘Album sa fotografijama’. 4. Markovic´, A., Izvesˇtaj o proslavi 50. godisˇnjice postojanja Fudbalskog saveza Jugoslavije (Belgrade, 1970), 23 – 5, AJ/734/R-1. 5. Ibid., 26 – 7. 6. Ibid., 27 – 8. 7. ‘Upitnici – Predlog za odlikovanje . . . povodom 50-god. postojanja FSJ’, 1967– 1969, AJ/734/R-1. 8. Markovic´, Izvesˇtaj, 33; ‘Upitnici’. 9. Pavlovic´, A., ‘Nogometna rukovodstva i nagrad¯eni prilikom proslave jubileja 1919– 1969’, Povijest sporta 1:2 (1970), 155– 72. 10. Sˇkoro, M. (ed.), Velezˇ 1922– ’82, (Mostar, 1982), 60. 11. Ibid., 55, 89. 12. Krizˇevic´-Drina, A., Sportasˇi Splita u revoluciji (Split, 1982), 205– 10; Mills, R., ‘Commemorating a Disputed Past: Football Club and Supporters’ Group War Memorials in the Former Yugoslavia’, History 97:328 (2012), 540– 77. 13. ‘Stadion za dva meseca!’, FK Napredak Official Website, ,http://www. fknapredak.rs/page.php?58. (Accessed January 2016); Novkovic´, S., Sˇest uspravnih decenija (Krusˇevac, 2006), 119. 14. Author observation, 2012. 15. Mills, ‘Commemorating’, 548– 9. 16. Vukadinovic´, Lj., Radnicˇki, 1920– 1955 (Belgrade, 1955); Mills, ‘Commemorating’, 551– 5. 17. Gizdic´, J., Svi Hajdukovi predsjednici (Split, 2007), 24– 5. 18. Sindbæk, T., Usable History? Representations of Yugoslavia’s Difficult Past from 1945 to 2002 (Aarhus, 2012), 135. 19. Garber, R. (ed.), Zlatni jubilej ZNS, 1919– 1969 (Zagreb, 1970). 20. Swain, G., Tito: A Biography (London, 2011), 102– 3, 168. 21. Ramet, S.P., Nationalism and Federalism in Yugoslavia, 1962 – 1991, (Bloomington, 1992), 107. 22. Swain, Tito, 169– 71. 23. Ibid., 173– 4. 24. Garber, R., ‘Od prve lopte do zlatnog jubileja’, in Garber, Zlatni jubilej, 46. 25. Garber, Zlatni jubilej, 135– 7. 26. Garber, ‘Od prve lopte’, 46, 58. 27. Bosiljcˇic´, D., P. Vukovic´ & D. Sˇercˇic´ (eds), Partizan sportsko drusˇtvo Jugoslovenske armije (Belgrade, 1951), 40 – 1. 28. Garber, ‘Od prve lopte’, 47. 29. Ibid. 30. Ibid., 60. 31. Zˇaja, T. (dir.), Generacija 1967 (Zagreb, 2013).

NOTES

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337

32. Garber, ‘Od prve lopte’, 46 – 7; Gerc, S., Crna strana YU nogometa (Gospic´, 1982), 149. 33. Zˇaja, Generacija 1967; Kramer, F. (ed.), Dinamo Zagreb, 1945– 1975 (Zagreb, 1975), 92. 34. Garber, ‘Od prve lopte’, 46 – 7. 35. Slobodna Dalmacija, 24, 28, 30 September, 1 October 1970. 36. Eterovic´, S., Z. Reic´ & N. Vukasˇin, Hajduk Split, 1911– 1981 (Split, 1981), 90 – 1; Slobodna Dalmacija, 6 October 1970. 37. Slobodna Dalmacija, 7 October 1970; Ramet, Nationalism and Federalism, 25. 38. Lalic´, D., Torcida: pogled iznutra (Zagreb, 1993), 96 –7; Slobodna Dalmacija, 7 October 1970. 39. Slobodna Dalmacija, 7, 8, 9 October 1970. 40. Ibid., 7 October 1970. 41. Ibid. 42. Ibid., 16 October 1970. 43. Garber, M., Hajdukova ’71 (Zagreb, 2014), 68; Slobodna Dalmacija, 20 October 1970. 44. Eterovic´, Reic´ & Vukasˇin, Hajduk, 93. 45. Ramet, Nationalism and Federalism, 128– 31. 46. Vukovic´, J., Raki: Jedna karijera (Belgrade, 2008), 31; Ramet, Nationalism and Federalism, 25. 47. SN Revija, 7 May 1980. See also: Gligoric´, M., Tito o fizicˇkoj kulturi i sportu (Belgrade, 1978), 23. 48. Kramer, Dinamo, 19 – 25. 49. Author interview with Fuad Mulahasanovic´, Tuzla, 13 August 2013; Nalic´, M., RSD Sloboda Tuzla: 1919 –1989 (Tuzla, 1989), 105. 50. Tomas, M., Ivica Osim: The Game of His Life (Zenica, 2014), 85 – 6. 51. Gagro, I., ‘Razvoj samoupravljanja u fizicˇkoj kulturi SFRJ’, Povijest sporta 20:79 (1989), 264– 9. 52. Flander, M. (ed.), Enciklopedija fizicˇke kulture, Vol. I (Zagreb, 1975), 275. 53. ‘Referat za godisˇnju konferenciju Saveza fudbalskih trenera Jugoslavije’, 28 September 1967, in Zapisnici Saveza fudbalskih trenera Jugoslavije od 30 IX 1967 do 12 XII 1970, Belgrade: Savez fudbalskih trenera Jugoslavije, 3, AJ/734/K-82. 54. Ibid., 15 – 17; Tempo, 22 January 1969. 55. Flander, Enciklopedija fizicˇke kulture, Vol. I, 275. 56. ‘Nova inicijativa u SKJ’, 1972, reproduced in B. Bosˇkovic´ & D. Dasˇic´ (eds), Socialist Self-Management in Yugoslavia, 1950– 1980: Documents (Belgrade, 1980), 281– 6; Tadic´, D., Sˇest decenija sportskog drusˇtva “Radnicˇki”, 1923– 1983 (Kragujevac, 1984), 302. 57. Kramer, F. (ed.), Hrvatski nogometni savez, 1912– 1992 (Zagreb, 1992), 88. 58. Sˇkoro, Velezˇ, 64; Miladinovic´, D., Velezˇov spomenar: zlatno doba (Mostar, 2009), 22. 59. Sˇkoro, Velezˇ, 62. Similar structures were in place at Radnicˇki Kragujevac. Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 302. Davor Kovacˇic´ provides a detailed analysis of the game’s ideological evolution following the introduction of Yugoslavia’s

338

60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81.

82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87.

88. 89.

NOTES

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153 –161

Associated Labour Act in 1976: Kovacˇic´, D., ‘Nogometni profesionalci u udruzˇenom radu’, Cˇasopis suvremenu povijest 1 (2016), 67 – 95. Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 336. Sport, 24 May 1981. Kovacˇic´, ‘Nogometni profesionalci u udruzˇenom radu’, 80 – 8. Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 336. Tempo, 31 March 1971; Arnautovic´, D., Zlatna knjiga fudbala (Tuzla, 2005), 46. Front slobode, 23 March 1981. All of Yugoslavia’s First League clubs had prominent individuals from large industrial enterprises on their boards during this period. Kovacˇic´, ‘Nogometni profesionalci u udruzˇenom radu’, 90 – 1. Front slobode, 24 March 1981. Oslobod¯enje, 30 March 1981. Popovic´, D., Krilo sveta (Belgrade, 1971), 62 – 3; Tempo, 30 April 1969. Lanfranchi, P. & M. Taylor, Moving with the Ball: The Migration of Professional Footballers (Oxford, 2001), 117– 29. Kovacˇic´, ‘Nogometni profesionalci u udruzˇenom radu’, 73 – 4. Tempo, 5 August 1981. Author interview with Fuad Mulahasanovic´. Author interview with Carlo Sinosich, Rijeka, 16 October 2015. See also: Lazzarich, M., Kantrida bijelh snova (Rijeka, 2008), 284– 7. Author interview with Carlo Sinosich. Novi list, 23, 24, 25 May 1978. Ibid., 24 May 1978. Author interview with Carlo Sinosich. Novi list, 25 May 1978. Ibid. Ibid., 26 May 1978. Beyond Serbia, Croatia and Bosnia & Hercegovina, all regularly represented in the final, the other federal units made occasional appearances: Vojvodina (Vojvodina: 1951; Spartak: 1962); Montenegro (Buduc´nost: 1965, 1977), Slovenia (Olimpija: 1970) and Kosovo (Trepcˇa: 1978). Flander, M. (ed.), Enciklopedija fizicˇke kulture, Vol. II (Zagreb, 1977), 431. Kraljic´, T. & O. Rivetti (eds), Kvarnerska rivijera: tri desetljec´a (Rijeka, 1982), 13 – 14, 160– 1. Sˇkoro, Velezˇ, 58, 91. Novi list, 18 May 1976. Author interview with Carlo Sinosich; Popovic´, Krilo sveta, 18 – 21. Osˇtric´, V. & F. Pintaric´ (eds), ‘Josip Broz Tito i Sport, 1973 –1979.’, Povijest sporta, 11:43 (1980), 109; Andjelic´, N., ‘The Rise and Fall of Yugoslavia: Politics and Football in the Service of the Nation(s)’, Su¨dosteuropa, 62:2 (2014), 114. Lanfranchi & Taylor, Moving with the Ball, 129. Slovan Ljubljana, Zmaj Makarska and Aluminij Kidiricˇevo all suffered this plight. ‘Izvesˇtaj o radu sekretarijata Saveza fudbalskih trenera Jugoslavije za

NOTES

90. 91. 92. 93.

94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106.

TO PAGES

161 –168

339

period od X redovne konferencije do 1. X 1970. godine’, in Zapisnici Saveza fudbalskih trenera, 18 – 29. Ruzicic-Kessler, K., ‘Italy and Yugoslavia: From Distrust to Friendship in Cold War Europe’, Journal of Modern Italian Studies 19:5 (2014), 656. Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 297– 8. ‘Hajduk Split – Crvena Zvezda 1:3 (1980.)’, Youtube, ,https://www. youtube.com/watch?v¼TTgl7h08cs8. (Accessed February 2016). ‘Hajduk – Zvezda Druzˇe Tito Mi Ti Se Kunemo’, Youtube, ,https://www. youtube.com/watch?v¼ gyG7CzJbFHI. (Accessed February 2016); Nielsen, C.A., ‘The Goalposts of Transition: Football as a Metaphor for Serbia’s Long Journey to the Rule of Law’, Nationalities Papers 38:1 (2010), 87. And¯elic´, D. (ed.), Fudbalski klub Zˇeljeznicˇar, 1921– 1981. (Sarajevo, 1982), 202. SN Revija, 7 May 1980. Ibid., Povijest sporta devoted an issue to Tito and sport. Povijest sporta 11:43 (1980). SN Revija, 14 May 1980. ‘Cˇestitke Fudbalskog saveza Jugoslavije Predsedniku Republike Josipu Brozu Titu, 1954 –1979’, AJ/734/R-1. Novi list, 12 May 1980. SN Revija, 14 May 1980. SN Revija, 21 May 1980; Novi list, 15 May 1980. Sˇpeletic´, K., Tito i sport (Zagreb, 1979); Gligoric´, M., Tito o fizicˇkoj kulturi i sportu (Belgrade, 1978). Osˇtric´ & Pintaric´, ‘Josip Broz Tito i Sport’, 106– 31; Eterovic´, S., ‘Najdrazˇi susreti splitskog “Hajduka”’, Povijest sporta 11:43 (1980), 150– 2; Nalic´, RSD Sloboda Tuzla, 5 – 6, 277– 80. Ðapo, B. (ed.), RSD “Sloboda” Tuzla i udruzˇeni klubovi: Informator uz sedamdesetogodisˇnjicu postojanja i rada 1919–1989 (Tuzla, 1990). Nalic´, RSD Sloboda Tuzla, 6. Lalic´, Torcida, 97. See also: Perica, V., Balkan Idols: Religion and Nationalism in Yugoslav States (Oxford, 2002), 91.

Chapter 6

After Tito, Nationalism! The 1980s

1. Author interview with Cup winner Avdo Kalajdzˇic´ and Velezˇ secretary Enes Vukotic´, Mostar, May 2008; Miladinovic´, D., Velezˇov spomenar: zlatno doba (Mostar, 2009), 24. 2. Miladinovic´, Velezˇov spomenar, 14 –16. 3. Ramet, S.P., Nationalism and Federalism in Yugoslavia, 1962 – 1991 (Bloomington, 1992), xvi – xvii, 34. 4. Meier, V., Yugoslavia: A History of its Demise (London, 1999), 10 – 17; Lampe, J. R., Yugoslavia as History: Twice There was a Country (Cambridge, 2000), 321– 2; Singleton, F., A Short History of the Yugoslav Peoples (Cambridge, 1989), 282.

340

NOTES

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168 –174

5. Dejan Savic´evic´’s transfer from Buduc´nost to Red Star in 1988 was notorious. Tomas, M., Ivica Osim: The Game of His Life (Zenica, 2014), 64 – 6. 6. Novi list, 26, 28 June 1980; Tadic´, D., Sˇest decenija sportskog drusˇtva “Radnicˇki”, 1923– 1983 (Kragujevac, 1984), 354– 7. An OFK history presents the result as ‘miraculous’, without any mention of match fixing. Todic´, M. (ed.), 90 godina romantike (Belgrade, 2001), 89. 7. Gerc, S., Crna strana YU nogometa (Gospic´, 1982), 162. See also: Kovacˇic´, D., ‘Nogometni profesionalci u udruzˇenom radu’, Cˇasopis suvremenu povijest 1 (2016), 75 – 7. 8. The Times, 25 March 1982. 9. Novi list, 28 June 1980. 10. Marusˇic´, A., Ferata: zapisi predratnog reprezentativca (Zagreb, 1982), 266– 7. 11. Novi list, 28 June 1980. 12. Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 349– 50. 13. Novi list, 27 June 1980. 14. Ibid. 15. Gerc, Crna strana, 167–9. 16. Ibid., 169– 70. 17. Dedijer, V., Radost i tuga fudbala (Rijeka, 1981), 58 – 9. 18. Kovacˇic´, ‘Nogometni profesionalci u udruzˇenom radu’, 92. 19. Todic´, M., 110 godina fudbala u Srbiji (Belgrade, 2006), 173– 4; Lazzarich, M., Kantrida bijelih snova (Rijeka, 2008), 145– 8. 20. Todic´, 110 godina, 174. 21. Tempo, 1 February 1989. 22. SN Revija, 11 June 1980. 23. Vecˇernje novosti, 1 December 1982; Daj gol: Grobarski fanzin 1 (1995). 24. Daj gol: Grobarski fanzin 4 (1996). 25. Politika, 17 September 1985; Vecˇernje novosti, 17 September 1985. 26. Lalic´, D., Torcida: pogled iznutra (Zagreb, 1993), 100. 27. Kebo, O., ‘Horde zla i manjaci’, Erasmus 57 (1995), 57. 28. SN Revija, 11 June 1980. See also: Sugden, J. & A. Tomlinson, ‘Football, Ressentiment and Resistance in the Break-up of the Former Soviet Union’, Culture Sport Society 3:2 (2000), 89 – 108. 29. Meier, Yugoslavia, 24, 29 – 30; C¸eku, E., Kosovo and Diplomacy Since World War II: Yugoslavia, Albania and the Path to Kosovan Independence (London, 2015), 133– 5. 30. C¸eku, Kosovo, 139– 41; Moore, P., ‘The Kosovo Events in Perspective’, Radio Free Europe Research, RAD Background Report/117 (Yugoslavia), 28 April 1981, 9, Open Society Archives, Budapest, ,http://catalog.osaarchivum.org/ catalog/osa:5fe7713f-b32a-434e-aa38-c6d4288fe60f. (Accessed December 2016). 31. C¸eku, Kosovo, 141–2; Moore, ‘The Kosovo Events’, 2 –3; Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 358– 61. 32. Meier, Yugoslavia, 31. 33. Tadic´, Sˇest decenija, 359– 64.

NOTES

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174 –180

341

34. Zanga, L., ‘The Nationality Dilemma in Kosovo’, Radio Free Europe Research, RAD Background Report/279 (Yugoslavia), 28 December 1983, 2– 3, Open Society Archives, Budapest, ,http://catalog.osaarchivum.org/catalog/osa: d0a7000e-0c5a-497f-bfd1-9327fd790091. (Accessed December 2016). 35. Politika, 22, 23 October 1985. 36. Lalic´, Torcida, 109– 10. 37. Ibid. 38. Politika, 23 October 1985. 39. Ibid. 40. Dragovic´-Soso, J., ‘Saviours of the Nation’: Serbia’s Intellectual Opposition and the Revivial of Nationalism (London, 2002), 115. 41. Ibid., 115, 125, 143– 4. 42. Pune tribine ljudih navijacˇa 2 (1997). Football offered a rare opportunity to travel across Yugoslavia. C´ao tifo, November 1990. 43. Politika, 15, 21 August 1986. 44. Srpski navijacˇ 18 (2009). 45. Politika, 21 August 1986. 46. Ibid.; Mills, R., ‘Commemorating a Disputed Past: Football Club and Supporters’ Group War Memorials in the Former Yugoslavia’, History 97:328 (2012), 568– 70. 47. Pune tribine ljudih navijacˇa 2 (1997), 3 (1998); Srpski navijacˇ 18 (2009). 48. Politika, 22 August 1986. 49. Dragovic´-Soso, ‘Saviours’, 177–89. 50. Mills, R., ‘FK Vojvodina, “Red Firm” and the Repercussions of the Yogurt Revolution: 1988– 1991’, Godisˇnjak Istorijskog arhiva grada Novog Sada 4:4 (2010), 59 – 60. 51. Kerenji, E., ‘Vojvodina Since 1988’, in S.P. Ramet & V. Pavlakovic´ (eds), Serbia Since 1989: Politics and Society Under Milosˇevic´ and After (Seattle, 2005), 351– 4; Silber, L. & A. Little, The Death of Yugoslavia (London, 1996), 58 –63. 52. Silber & Little, Death of Yugoslavia, 69. 53. Tempo, 15 March 1989. 54. Sport magazin, 25 July 1990. 55. Sprint, 7 February 1990. 56. Author interview with Red Firm members Miroslav, Ognjen and Nebojsˇa, Novi Sad, November 2007. 57. Lalic´, Torcida, 86 – 8; Lalic´, D. & S. Wood, ‘Football Hooliganism in Croatia: A Historical and Sociological Analysis’, Su¨dosteuropa 62:2 (2014), 153– 5. 58. Vukadinovic´, Lj., Jugoslovenski futbal (Belgrade, 1950), 9 – 10. 59. Perasovic´, B., ‘Sportsko huliganstvo kao subkulturna pojava’, in Zˇ. Buzov, I. Magdalenic´, B. Perasovic´ & F. Radin, Navijacˇko pleme: Prvo YU istrazˇivanje (Zagreb, 1989), 7; See also: Perasovic´, B., Urbana plemena: Sociologija subkultura u Hrvatskoj (Zagreb, 2001), 285– 6. 60. For example, Tempo, 19 April, 10 May 1989; Sport magazin, 13 June 1990. 61. Perasovic´, ‘Sportsko huliganstvo kao subkulturna pojava’, 7; Perasovic´, Urbana plemena, 282–5; Popadic´, D., ‘Fudbalski navijacˇi’, in S. Joksimovic´, R. Maric´,

342

62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76.

77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86.

NOTES

TO PAGES

180 –184

A. Milic´, D. Popadic´ & M. Vasovic´, Mladi i neformalne grupe: U traganju za alternativom (Belgrade, 1988), 151. Perasovic´, B., ‘“Nogometni huliganizam” u Zagrebu: “Bad Blue Boys”’, in Buzov, Magdalenic´, Perasovic´ & Radin, Navijacˇko pleme, 16. “Navijacˇki”, Sport magazin, 14 November 1990. Tempo, 10 October 1990. C´ao tifo, April 1990. Caution is advised due to potentially inaccurate magazine data, uncertainty over when names were adopted and the transient nature of these organisations. C´ao tifo, April 1990. Spaaij, R., ‘Football Hooliganism as a Transnational Phenomenon: Past and Present Analysis: A Critique – More Specificity and Less Generality’, International Journal of the History of Sport 24:4 (2007), 420. C´ao tifo, June 1991. Ibid., August – September 1990. Ibid. Lalic´, Torcida, 170. Markovic´, V., ‘Zasˇto su samo navijacˇi u napadu?’, Kultura 88/90 (1990), 137. Markovic´, V., ‘Urbana gerila u napadu i odbrani’, Kultura 88/90 (1990), 165. For example, work by a Belgian criminologist was reproduced in translation: van Limbergen, K., ‘Fudbalski vandalizam’, Kultura 88/90 (1990), 67 – 91. See also: Perasovic´, ‘Sportsko huliganstvo’, 6; Lalic´, Torcida, 32 – 43. For Zagreb: Buzov, Magdalenic´, Perasovic´ & Radin, Navijacˇko Pleme. Later, Hrvoje Prnjak conducted a study of the BBB: Prnjak, H., Bad Blue Boys: Prvih 10 godina (Zagreb, 1997). For Belgrade: Joksimovic´, Maric´, Milic´, Popadic´ & Vasovic´, Mladi i neformalne grupe; Popadic´, D., ‘Sˇareno jato fudbalskih navijacˇa’, Polja 346 (1987), 522– 4. For Split: Lalic´, Torcida. Kultura published a special issue on the subject in 1990 (88/90). See also: Kokovic´, D., Doba nasilja i sport (Novi Sad, 1990). Markovic´, ‘Zasˇto su samo navijacˇi’, 137. Magdalenic´, I., ‘Sportsko-kriminolosˇke karakteristike izgreda s registriranim ucˇesnicima’, in Buzov, Magdalenic´, Perasovic´ & Radin, Navijacˇko pleme, 32. Lalic´, Torcida, 118, 153– 5. Perasovic´, ‘“Nogometni huliganizam” u Zagrebu’, 12. Prnjak’s later study estimated a core of 400– 500, with an upper limit of 10,000 ‘sympathisers’. Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 205. Lalic´, Torcida, 120– 3; Perasovic´, ‘“Nogometni huliganizam” u Zagrebu’, 16; Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 207; Popadic´, ‘Fudbalski navijacˇi’, 149. Lalic´, Torcida, 120– 3; Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 207. Popadic´, ‘Sˇareno jato’, 522. Lalic´, Torcida, 120– 3. Buzov, Zˇ., ‘Neka osnovna socijalna i demografska obiljezˇja izgrednika’, in Buzov, Magdalenic´, Perasovic´ & Radin, Navijacˇko pleme, 34. Of 108 Torcida surveyed by Lalic´, three were female. Perasovic´ estimated that a group of 200 BBB might contain 10 females and Prnjak arrived at a similar

NOTES

87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95.

96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111.

112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117.

TO PAGES

184 –189

343

figure. Lalic´, Torcida, 120– 3; Perasovic´, ‘“Nogometni huliganizam” u Zagrebu’, 16; Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 208. TN, Tempo, 22 November, 13, 27 December 1989, 17, 24 January, 7 March 1990. Kokovic´, Doba nasilja i sport, 92; Buzov, Magdalenic´, Perasovic´ & Radin, Navijacˇko pleme, 50. Lalic´, Torcida, 100. Perasovic´, ‘Sportsko huliganstvo’, 7 – 8. Lalic´, Torcida, 114, 103. Popadic´, ‘Sˇareno jato’, 523. Cˇolovic´, I., The Politics of Symbol in Serbia (London, 2002), 272. Magdalenic´, I., ‘Nekoliko zakljucˇnih napomena’, in Buzov, Magdalenic´, Perasovic´ & Radin, Navijacˇko pleme, 52. Dunning, E., P. Murphy & I. Waddington, ‘Towards a sociological understanding of football hooliganism as a world phenomenon’, in E. Dunning, P. Murphy, I. Waddington & A.E. Astrinakis (eds), Fighting Fans: Football Hooliganism as a World Phenomenon (Dublin, 2002), 22. C´ao tifo, April 1990. Lalic´, Torcida, 199– 200. C´ao tifo, April 1991. Magdalenic´, I., ‘Sportsko-kriminolosˇke karakteristike’, 24 – 8. Markovic´, ‘Zasˇto su samo’, 136; Lalic´, Torcida, 174– 6. Ivan Sˇiber, cited in Buzov, Magdalenic´, Perasovic´ & Radin, Navijacˇko pleme, 17; Magdalenic´, ‘Nekoliko zakljucˇnih napomena’, 52. Pune tribine ljudih navijacˇa 3 (1998). Drasˇkovic´, V., ‘Beograd¯ani!’, Leaflet, 17 May 1990. Reproduced in Lalic´, Torcida, 350. C´ao tifo, June 1991. See also: Cˇolovic´, Politics of Symbol, 264. Tempo, 25 January 1989. Ibid., 29 November 1989. Ibid. Ibid. Cˇolovic´, Politics of Symbol, 261– 2. C´ao tifo, April 1990. Gordy, E.D., The Culture of Power in Serbia: Nationalism and the Destruction of Alternatives (University Park, 1999), 130; Lalic´, Torcida, 201; Cˇolovic´, Politics of Symbol, 269– 82; Perasovic´, ‘“Nogometni huliganizam” u Zagrebu’, 16 – 17; Mihailovic´, S., ‘Sport, publika, nasilje’, Kultura 88/90 (1990), 10. Lalic´, Torcida, 200– 6, 267. Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 293; Tubic´, M.P., Jugoslovenski sport: koreni, razvoj, razdruzˇivanje (Novi Sad: Muzej Vojvodine, 2005), 600. The inaugural TN appeared in Tempo on 17 May 1989. The magazine was published under various titles (SN Revija, Sport magazin, Sprint). C´ao tifo, April, December 1990. TN, Tempo, 11 October 1989.

344 118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126.

127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 138. 139. 140. 141. 142.

143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148.

NOTES

TO PAGES

190 –197

Ibid. C´ao tifo, April 1990. Ibid. Mihailovic´, S., ‘The War Started on May 13, 1990’, in S. Slapsˇak, et al., The War Started on Maksimir: Hate Speech in Yugoslav Media (Belgrade, 1997), 116– 17. Lalic´, Torcida, 104. Buzov, Magdalenic´, Perasovic´ & Radin, Navijacˇko pleme, 43. C´ao tifo, April 1990. Lalic´, Torcida, 120– 3; Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 207. C´iric´, S., ‘Figura drugog kao otvoreni projekat, na primeru albanskih autora iz Albanije i sa Kosova’, in A. Pavlovic´, A. Zaharijevic´, G. Pudar Drasˇko & R. Halili (eds), Figura neprijatelja: preosmisˇljavanje srpsko – albanskih odnosa (Belgrade, 2015), 365– 6; Kajan, Dzˇ., Bilo jednom na Grbavici (Sarajevo, 2007), 82 – 98. “Pisˇem pisˇesˇ”, C´ao tifo, October 1990. Torcida Sandzˇak now support FK Novi Pazar. Meier, Yugoslavia, 119. Dragovic´-Soso, ‘Saviours’, 189–93. Silber & Little, Death of Yugoslavia, 50 – 7. Tubic´, Jugoslovenski sport, 599– 600. Silber & Little, Death of Yugoslavia, 65 – 9. Ibid., 78; Meier, Yugoslavia, 120. Mladina, 17 November 1989. See also: Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 69; C´ao tifo, November 1990. Mladina, 17 November 1989; TN, Tempo, 22 November, 6 December 1989. Vllasi’s arrest prompted the BBB and Torcida to chant his name. Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 60; Lalic´, Torcida, 207. Meier, Yugoslavia, 119–22. Tempo, 28 February 1990. Ibid. Tubic´, Jugoslovenski sport, 600– 1; C´ao tifo, April 1990; Mills, ‘FK Vojvodina’, 62 – 73; Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 60, 68 – 9. Tempo, 28 February 1990. Sport, 3 February 1990. Miladinovic´, Velezˇov spomenar, 30; Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 48; TN, Tempo, 29 November 1989. Mills, R., ‘Velezˇ Mostar Football Club and the Demise of “Brotherhood and Unity” in Yugoslavia, 1922– 2009’, Europe – Asia Studies 62:7 (2010), 1115– 19. “Navijacˇki”, Sport magazin, 14 November 1990. C´ao tifo, October 1990. Sportski zˇurnal, 20 August 1991; Mills, ‘Velezˇ’, 1116, 1131– 2. Markovic´, ‘Zasˇto su samo navijacˇi’, 135. TN, Tempo, 11 October, 1 November 1989. Caspersen, N., Contested Nationalism: Serb Elite Rivalry in Croatia and Bosnia in the 1990s (Oxford, 2010), 86.

NOTES 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162. 163. 164. 165.

166. 167. 168. 169.

TO PAGES

197 –202

345

C´ao tifo, August– September 1990. C´ao tifo, December 1990. TN, Tempo, 27 December 1989. Ibid. Tubic´, Jugoslovenski sport, 600. C´ao tifo, December 1990. Tempo, 17 April 1991. Ibid. C´ao tifo, December 1990. Ibid., August – September 1990. Ibid. Ibid. TN, Tempo, 3 April 1991. Kebo, ‘Horde zla i manjaci’, 57. C´ao tifo, June 1991. See also: Mills, R., ‘“The pitch itself was no man’s land:” Siege, Zˇeljeznicˇar Sarajevo Football Club and the Grbavica Stadium’, Nationalities Papers 44:6 (2016), 882– 4. Gordy, The Culture of Power in Serbia, 12. Mills, R., ‘Fighters, Footballers and Nation Builders: Wartime Football in the Serb-held Territories of the Former Yugoslavia, 1991– 1996’, Sport in Society 16:8 (2013), 962– 3; Navijacˇke informativne novine 13 (2009); Huk sa severa: fanzin navijacˇke grupe Firma 1989 4 (2009); Srpski navijacˇ 20 (2009). Kerenji, ‘Vojvodina Since 1988’, 355– 6. Author interview with Red Firm members; Huk sa severa: fanzin navijacˇke grupe Firma 1989 4 (2009); TN, Tempo, 1 November 1989. Dnevnik, 19, 22 February 1990; Sprint, 21 February, 7 March 1990; Mills, ‘FK Vojvodina’, 62– 73. Author interview with Red Firm members. The stolen banners belonged to ‘BBB Slavonski Brod’ and ‘BBB Slavonska Pozˇega’. ‘Istorija Firme’, Firma 1989 website, ,http://www.firma1989.com/istorija-firme.html. (accessed July 2010).

Chapter 7 The Maksimir Myth 1. Prnjak, H., Bad Blue Boys – Prvih 10 godina (Zagreb, 1997), 94 – 5. 2. Đord¯evic´, I., ‘Twenty Years Later: The War Did (not) Begin at Maksimir’, Glasnik Ethnografskog instituta SANU 60:2 (2012), 201– 16. 3. In 2011, CNN (Cable News Network) ranked the match among the ‘the five football games that changed the world’. Ibid., 202. More recent documentary treatment includes: Grahovac, I. (dir.), Nedelja 13. (Sarajevo, 2015); Manjkas, M. (dir.), Domovinski rat je pocˇeo na Maksimiru (Zagreb, 2014). See also: Janic´, V. (dir.), Poslednji jugoslovenski fudbalski tim (Amsterdam, 2000). Among popular histories to devote attention to it are: Goldblatt, D., The Ball is Round: A Global History of Football (London, 2006), 707– 8; Kuper, S., Football Against the Enemy (London, 2004), 227– 8; Wilson, J., Behind the Curtain: Travels in

346

4. 5. 6.

7. 8. 9. 10.

11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24.

NOTES

TO PAGES

202 –207

Eastern European Football (London, 2006), 109– 10; Foer, F., How Football Explains the World (London, 2004), 14– 16; Stradling, J., More than a Game: When Sport and History Collide (Sydney, 2009), 204– 11. Maksimir is discussed in most academic treatments of sport during this period. Comprehensive accounts include: Ðord¯evic´, ‘Twenty Years Later’; Sack, A.L. & Z. Suster, ‘Soccer and Croatian Nationalism: A Prelude to War’, Journal of Sport and Social Issues 24:3 (2000), 305– 20; Mihailovic´, S., ‘The War Started on May 13, 1990’, in S. Slapsˇak, et al., The War Started on Maksimir: Hate Speech in Yugoslav Media (Belgrade, 1997), 97 – 156; Tubic´, M.P., Jugoslovenski sport: koreni, razvoj, razdruzˇivanje (Novi Sad, 2005), 602– 12. Todic´, M., 110 godina fudbala u Srbiji (Belgrade, 2006), 175– 7. Tempo, 8 February 1989. Kurspahic´, K., Prime Time Crime: Balkan Media in War and Peace (Washington, DC, 2003), 63; Jovic´, D., ‘Reassessing Socialist Yugoslavia, 1945– 90: The case of Croatia’, in D. Djokic´ & J. Ker-Lindsay (eds), New Perspectives on Yugoslavia: Key Issues and Controversies (London, 2011), 138– 9. Caspersen, N., Contested Nationalism: Serb Elite Rivalry in Croatia and Bosnia in the 1990s (Oxford, 2010), 27. Ramet, S.P., Nationalism and Federalism in Yugoslavia, 1962 – 1991, (Bloomington, 1992), 206. For the ethnic composition of partisans, see: Jovic´, ‘Reassessing Socialist Yugoslavia’, 118– 19. Ramet, Nationalism and Federalism, 203. Silber, L. & A. Little, The Death of Yugoslavia (London, 1996), 87. Franjo Tud¯man was jailed in 1981 for providing statistics to a German news agency that demonstrated Serbs dominated the Croatian Party and the officer corps of the JNA. Ramet, Nationalism and Federalism, 203. Goldstein, I., Croatia: A History (London, 1999), 210. Silber & Little, Death of Yugoslavia, 92 – 103, 169– 88. Caspersen, Contested Nationalism, 49 – 53. Silber & Little, Death of Yugoslavia, 97 – 103. Sˇtitkovac, E., ‘Croatia: The First War’, in J. Udovicˇki & J. Ridgeway (eds), Burn this House: The Making and Unmaking of Yugoslavia (Durham, 1999), 155. Sprint, 11 April 1990. Sprint magazin sportskih novosti was rebranded as Sport magazin on 16 May 1990. Politika: The International Weekly, 26 May 1990; Krickovic, A., ‘Football is War’, Transitions Online, 10 July 2002, ,http://www.tol.org/client/article/ 5707-football-is-war.html?print. (Accessed February 2010). Tempo, 16 May 1990; Vecˇernje novosti, 14 May 1990; Vecˇernji list, 14 May 1990; C´ao tifo, June– July 1990. Vecˇernje novosti, 14 May 1990; Vecˇernji list, 14 May 1990. Vecˇernje novosti, 14 May 1990; Vecˇernji list, 14 May 1990; Vreme, 20 May 2010. Republic Square was renamed Ban Jelacˇic´ Square shortly afterwards. Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 80; C´ao tifo, June – July 1990. Borba, 15 May 1990; Vecˇernji list, 14 May 1990. Vecˇernje novosti, 15 May 1990; Grahovac, Nedelja 13. Borba, 15 May 1990.

NOTES

TO PAGES

207 –211

347

25. Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 80. 26. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990; Mihailovic´, ‘The War Started’, 154– 5. Both the Delije and the BBB sang the following together: ‘Slobo, you Serb, you will not escape the knife’. Sections of the Delije still favoured Sˇesˇelj and Drasˇkovic´ at this stage. 27. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990; Tempo, 16 May 1990; Vecˇernje novosti, 15 May 1990. 28. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990; Tempo, 16 May 1990; Borba, 15 May 1990; Grahovac, Nedelja 13. 29. Plus sport, 16 May 1990; Sport magazin, 16 May 1990; Tempo, 16 May 1990; Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 80 – 1; Grahovac, Nedelja 13. 30. Tempo, 16 May 1990. For contemporary television footage see: ‘Dinamo Zagreb – Crvena Zvezda – Neredi i tucˇa na stadionu u Zagrebu (Maksimir) – Kompletan snimak’ ,http://www.youtube.com/watch?v¼cMXnF2ivrZ4. (Accessed September 2011). 31. Tempo, 16 May 1990. 32. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990; Plus sport, 16 May 1990; Tempo, 16 May 1990; C´ao tifo, June– July 1990. 33. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990. See also: Tempo, 16 May 1990; Plus sport, 16 May 1990. 34. Tempo, 16 May 1990; Thompson, M., Forging War: The media in Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia and Hercegovina (Luton, 1999), 28 – 34. 35. Plus sport, 16 May 1990; Sport magazin, 16 May 1990; Politika, 15 May 1990; Vecˇernje novosti, 15 May 1990. 36. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990; Plus sport, 16 May 1990; Grahovac, Nedelja 13.. See also: Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 81 – 2. 37. The injury tally varies considerably. The cited numbers were given by the Republic Secretariat of SR Croatia after the incident. Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 81. Later, Politika gave a total of 141 injured, including 82 policemen: Politika: The International Weekly, 19 May 1990. More recently, Vreme used substantially higher figures of 193 injured, including 117 police: Vreme, 20 May 2010. 38. Tempo, 16 May 1990; Sport magazin, 16 May 1990; C´ao tifo, June – July 1990. 39. Kurspahic´, Prime Time Crime, 62 –3. 40. Sack & Suster, ‘Soccer and Croatian Nationalism’, 307– 13. 41. Mihailovic´, ‘The War Started’, 115– 17. 42. Sportski zˇurnal, 17 May 1990. 43. Tempo, 23 May 1990. 44. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990. 45. Sack & Suster, ‘Soccer and Croatian Nationalism’, 312; Tempo, 16 May 1990. 46. Plus sport, 16 May 1990. 47. Nedjeljna Dalmacija, 20 May 1990. 48. Sportski zˇurnal, 17 May 1990. 49. Borba, 15 May 1990. 50. Nedjeljna Dalmacija, 20 May 1990.

348

NOTES

TO PAGES

211 – 216

51. Tempo, 16 May 1990; Vecˇernje novosti, 15 May 1990; Sport magazin, 30 May 1990; C´ao tifo, June –July 1990. 52. Nedjeljna Dalmacija, 20 May 1990. 53. Silber & Little, Death of Yugoslavia, 90. 54. C´ao tifo, June– July 1990; Nedjeljna Dalmacija, 20 May 1990. 55. Dunning, E., P. Murphy & I. Waddington, ‘Towards a sociological understanding of football hooliganism as a world phenomenon’, in E. Dunning, P. Murphy, I. Waddington & A.E. Astrinakis (eds), Fighting Fans: Football Hooliganism as a World Phenomenon (Dublin, 2002), 22. 56. Sportski zˇurnal, 17 May 1990. Mihailovic´ describes Maksimir as the ‘grand finale’, but emphasises the development of hooliganism prior to the incident: ‘The War Started’, 103. 57. C´ao tifo, June– July 1990; Tempo, 29 November 1989. 58. Tempo, 16 May 1990. See also: Plus sport, 16 May 1990; Sport magazin, 16, 30 May 1990. 59. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990. 60. Ibid.; Kolstø, P., ‘Bleiburg: The Creation of a National Martyrology’, Europe – Asia Studies 62:7 (2010), 1169– 70. 61. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990. 62. Sport, 12 May 1990. 63. Sportske novosti, 15 May 1990. 64. Sport magazin, 27 June 1990; Borba, 16 May 1990; Sport magazin, 16 May 1990. 65. Tempo, 16 May 1990. 66. C´ao tifo, June– July 1990. 67. Sack & Suster, ‘Soccer and Croatian Nationalism’, 310. 68. Spaaij, R., ‘Football Hooliganism as a Transnational Phenomenon: Past and Present Analysis: A Critique – More Specificity and Less Generality’, International Journal of the History of Sport 24:4 (2007), 414. 69. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990. 70. Sell, L., Slobodan Milosˇevic´ and the Destruction of Yugoslavia (Durham, 2002), 100– 1. 71. Vecˇernji list, 14 May 1990. 72. Ibid. 73. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990. 74. Tempo, 16 May 1990. 75. Politika: The International Weekly, 26 May 1990. 76. Politika, 15 May 1990. 77. Vecˇernje novosti, 15 May 1990. 78. Ibid. For more recent accusations of Croatian premeditation see: Ðord¯evic´, ‘Twenty Years Later’, 207. 79. Such forums were carefully ‘orchestrated’. Mimica, A. & R. Vucˇetic´, “Vreme kada je narod govorio”: Rubrika “Odjeci i reagovanja” u listu Politika (juli 1988 – mart 1991) (Belgrade, 2001). 80. Tempo, 30 May 1990. 81. Sport magazin, 30 May 1990.

NOTES 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95.

96.

97. 98.

99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111.

TO PAGES

216 –223

349

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., 6 June 1990. Tempo, 6 June 1990. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Sport magazin, 30 May, 6, 27 June 1990. Ibid., 6 June 1990. Ibid., 27 June 1990. Vrcan, S. & D. Lalic´, ‘From Ends to Trenches, and Back: Football in the Former Yugoslavia’, in G. Armstrong & R. Giulianotti (eds), Football Cultures and Identities (London, 1999), 176– 7. Sindbæk, T., ‘Football Commentators as Historians: Uses of History and Serbian Club Football, 1990– 2005’, Kultura polisa 13 – 14 (2010), 535. Ibid., 535– 8. Vjeran Pavlakovic´ expresses a similar idea in the context of commemorations of the Second World War. Pavlakovic´, V., ‘Deifying the Defeated: Commemorating Bleiburg since 1990’, L’Europe en formation 357 (2010), 127, 145. Grahovac, Nedelja 13.; Cˇolovic´, I., The Politics of Symbol in Serbia (London, 2002), 275– 7; Nielsen, C.A., ‘The Goalposts of Transition: Football as a Metaphor for Serbia’s Long Journey to the Rule of Law’, Nationalities Papers 38:1 (2010), 90; Vreme, 2 October 2008; Judah, T., The Serbs: History, Myth and the Destruction of Yugoslavia (London, 2000), 184– 6. Srpsko jedinstvo: list stranke srpskog jedinstva, November 1994. See also: Cˇolovic´, Politics of Symbol, 276; Vrcan, S., Nogomet, Politika, Nasilje (Zagreb, 2003), 83. Srpsko jedinstvo, November 1994. This slogan (‘Srbe na vrbe’) surfaced as an expression of anti-Serb sentiment in 1914, before being revived and acted upon by Croatian fascists in the 1940s. Carmichael, C., Genocide before the Holocaust (New Haven, 2009), 23. Stewart, C.S., Hunting the Tiger: The Fast Life and Violent Death of the Balkans’ Most Dangerous Man (New York, 2007), 126. Ibid. Sack & Suster, ‘Soccer and Croatian Nationalism’, 310– 13. Pune tribine ljudih navijacˇa 3 (1998). Jutarnji list, 13 May 2010. Stewart, Hunting the Tiger, 127. Grahovac, Nedelja 13. The Sunday Times, 31 January 1993. Vreme, 20 May 2010. See also: Ðord¯evic´, ‘Twenty Years Later’. Jutarnji list, 13 May 2010. ‘BBB history’, ,http://www.nk-dinamo.hr/en/bbb/Default.aspx. (Accessed March 2008). Vreme, 20 May 2010. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990.

350

NOTES

TO PAGES

223 –229

112. Tempo, 23 May 1990. 113. Sportske novosti, 15 May 1990. 114. Plus sport, 23 May 1990; Sport magazin, 16 May 1990. See also: Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 81. 115. Plus sport, 23 May 1990. 116. Mills, R., ‘FK Vojvodina, “Red Firm” and the Repercussions of the Yogurt Revolution: 1988– 1991’, Godisˇnjak Istorijskog arhiva grada Novog Sada 4:4 (2010), 72; Sport magazin, 16 May 1990. 117. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990; Tempo, 16 May 1990; Plus sport, 23 May 1990. 118. Tempo, 13 June 1990. 119. Politika: The International Weekly, 19 May 1990; Sport magazin, 16 May 1990. 120. Plus sport, 23 May 1990. 121. Ibid.; Tempo, 13 June 1990. 122. Politika, 15 May 1990. 123. ‘BBB history’. 124. Hughson, J., ‘The Bad Blue Boys and the “Magical Recovery” of John Clarke’, in G. Armstrong & R. Giulianotti (eds), Entering the Field: New Perspectives on World Football (Oxford, 1997), 248. 125. Vreme, 20 May 2010. 126. Sack & Suster, ‘Soccer and Croatian Nationalism’, 312. 127. Jutarnji list, 13 May 2010; Vreme, 20 May 2010; Grahovac, Nedelja 13. 128. Vreme, 20 May 2010. See also: Ðord¯evic´, ‘Twenty Years Later’, 210; Janic´, Poslednji jugoslovenski fudbalski tim. 129. Kuper, Football Against the Enemy, 228. 130. Ðord¯evic´, ‘Twenty Years Later’, 210– 11. 131. Jutarnji list, 13 May 2010. 132. Kolstø, P. (ed.), Myths and Boundaries in South-Eastern Europe (London, 2005), 26. 133. Partizanov vesnik, 26 May 1990. 134. Ðord¯evic´, ‘Twenty Years Later’, 207– 8. 135. Mills, R., ‘Commemorating a Disputed Past: Football Club and Supporters’ Group War Memorials in the Former Yugoslavia’, History 97:328 (2012), 568–75. 136. Tempo, 16 May 1990; Sport magazin, 16 May 1990; Nedjeljna Dalmacija, 20 May 1990; Politika, 16 May 1990; Sport magazin, 30 May 1990; Partizanov vesnik, 9 June 1990. See also: Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 69. 137. Ðord¯evic´ notes that many users of internet fan forums consider Maksimir to have been ‘an ordinary fight’, like others that preceded it. Ðord¯evic´, ‘Twenty Years Later’, 202– 3. 138. C´ao tifo, June– July 1990.

Chapter 8

On the Brink: The 1990– 1 Season

1. Initially as president of RSˇK Split. Author interview with Stjepan Jukic´Peladic´, Split, 28 April 2016. 2. Gizdic´, J., Svi Hajdukovi predsjednici (Split, 2007), 75 – 7, 96 – 7. Author interview with Stjepan Jukic´-Peladic´.

NOTES

TO PAGES

229 –233

351

3. HSK “Hajduk-NOVJ” to Gradski NOO Upravni Odjel-Politicˇki Podosjek, Split, 25 February 1945, Drzˇavni arhiv u Splitu (HR-DAST), F.495 (Nogometni klub Hajduk), /69/143. 4. Sport magazin, 6 June 1990. 5. The rich literature on e´migre´ football in Australia includes: Vamplew, W., ‘“Wogball”: Ethnicity and Violence in Australian Soccer’, in R. Giulianotti & J. Williams (eds), Game without Frontiers: Football, Identity and Modernity (Aldershot, 1994), 207–23; O’Hara, J. (ed.), Ethnicity and Soccer in Australia, ASSH Studies in Sports History No. 10 (Campbelltown, 1994); Hughson, J., ‘“The Wogs are at it Again”: The Media Reportage of Australian Soccer “Riots”’, Football Studies 4:1 (2001), 40 – 55; Hay, R., ‘“Those Bloody Croatians”: Croatian Soccer Teams, Ethnicity and Violence in Australia, 1950– 99’, in G. Armstrong & R. Giulianotti (eds), Fear and Loathing in World Football (Oxford, 2001), 77 – 90; Hughson, J., ‘The Bad Blue Boys and the “Magical Recovery” of John Clarke’, in G. Armstrong & R. Giulianotti (eds), Entering the Field: New Perspectives on World Football (Oxford, 1997), 239– 59. 6. Nedjeljna Dalmacija, 24 June 1990; Vrcan, S., ‘The Curious Drama of the President of a Republic Versus a Football Fan Tribe’, International Review for the Sociology of Sport 37:1 (2002), 63. 7. Tempo, 4 July 1990; Sport magazin, 18 July 1990. It was hard to avoid Pavelic´’s physical ‘presence’ in Sydney’s Croatian community in the early 1990s. Hughson, ‘The Bad Blue Boys’, 248. 8. Sport magazin, 6, 20 June 1990. 9. Nedjeljna Dalmacija, 24 June 1990. 10. Tempo, 4 July 1990. 11. Nedjeljna Dalmacija, 25 March 1990. 12. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990. 13. Lalic´, D., Torcida: pogled iznutra (Zagreb, 1993), 171– 6. 14. Sport magazin, 16 May 1990. 15. Ibid., 6 June 1990. 16. Ibid., 5 September 1990. See also: Tempo, Belgrade, 4 July 1990. 17. Sport magazin, 13 June 1990. 18. Brentin, D., ‘“A lofty battle for the nation”: The Social Roles of Sport in Tudjman’s Croatia’, Sport in Society 16:8 (2013), 994– 5. 19. Sport magazin, 13 June 1990. 20. Ibid. 21. Krizˇevic´-Drina, A., Sportasˇi Splita u revoluciji (Split, 1982), 133. 22. Tempo, 25 July 1990; Sport magazin, 1 August 1990. 23. Dragovic´-Soso, J., ‘Saviours of the Nation’: Serbia’s Intellectual Opposition and the Revival of Nationalism (London, 2002), 163–4. 24. For the ship, with and without its star, see: ,http://www.paluba.info/smf/i ndex.php?topic¼4867.0. (Accessed June 2016). 25. Sprint, 25 January, 7, 14 Feburary, 14 March 1990. 26. Sindbæk, T., ‘“A Croatian champion with a Croatian name”: National Identity and Uses of History in Croatian Football Culture – The Case of Dinamo Zagreb’, Sport in Society 16:8 (2013), 1014– 15.

352 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57.

58. 59. 60. 61. 62.

NOTES

TO PAGES

233 –243

Vrcan, ‘Curious Drama’, 62 – 3. Sindbæk, ‘“A Croatian champion”’, 1015; Dinamo, March, April 1991. Partizanov vesnik, 11 August 1990; Sportski zˇurnal, 2 August 1990. Partizanov vesnik, 8 September 1990. Zvezda revija, December 1991, December 1994; Cˇolovic´, I., The Politics of Symbol in Serbia (London, 2002), 268. Zvezda revija, December 1994. Partizanov vesnik, 17 October 1992. Sport magazin, 27 June 1990. Ibid., 1 August 1990. Ibid. Author observation, 2016. The re-enactment marked the death of Zˇan Ojdanic´, a former Torcida leader who fought in the Homeland War. He died in a parachute accident. Slobodna Dalmacija, 2 April 2016. Silber, L. & A. Little, The Death of Yugoslavia (London, 1996), 100. Sport magazin, 1 August 1990. Tempo, 1 August 1990. Sport magazin, 5 September 1990. Tempo, 1 August 1990. Sport magazin, 29 August 1990. See also: C´ao tifo, November 1990. Partizanov vesnik, 8 September 1990. C´ao tifo, October 1990. Author interview with Stjepan Jukic´-Peladic´; Slobodna Dalmacija, 27 September 1990; C´ao tifo, October 1990. Lalic´, Torcida, 204– 5, 222–4; C´ao tifo, October 1990; Slobodna Dalmacija, 27 September 1990. C´ao tifo, October 1990; Slobodna Dalmacija, 27 September 1990. Author interview with Stjepan Jukic´-Peladic´. Slobodna Dalmacija, 27 September 1990. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., 28 September 1990. Sportski zˇurnal, 27 September 1990. Partizanov vesnik, 6 October 1990. ‘Priopc´enje IO HSS-a Kasˇtela’, reproduced in Slobodna Dalmacija, 29 September 1990. The 1895 incident occurred at a time of Magyarisation in the Croat lands of Austria – Hungary. During Emperor Franz Joseph’s visit to Zagreb, student demonstrators burned the Hungarian flag. Their leader was a young Stjepan Radic´. Banac, I., The National Question in Yugoslavia: Origins, History, Politics (Ithaca, 1988), 95. Slobodna Dalmacija, 30 September 1990. Ibid., 28 September 1990. Ibid. Novi list, 4 October 1990. Slobodna Dalmacija, 30 September 1990.

NOTES 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89.

90. 91. 92.

93.

TO PAGES

243 –252

353

Tempo, 3 October 1990. Silber & Little, Death of Yugoslavia, 119– 28. Ibid., 134– 8. Slobodna Dalmacija, 3 May 1991. Ibid., 4 May 1991. Ibid., 4, 5 May 1991. Author interview with Stjepan Jukic´-Peladic´. Ibid.; Gizdic´, Svi Hajdukovi predsjednici, 77, 97. See also: Slobodna Dalmacija, 8 May 1991; Tempo, 22 May 1991. Slobodna Dalmacija, 7 May 1991. Tempo, 22 May 1991. Slobodna Dalmacija, 9 May 1991; Tempo, 22 May 1991; Author interview with Stjepan Jukic´-Peladic´. Tempo, 12 June 1991. Slobodna Dalmacija, 9 May 1991. Ibid., 9, 10 May 1991; Tempo, 22 May 1991. Author interview with Stjepan Jukic´-Peladic´. Slobodna Dalmacija, 12 May 1991. Ibid., 4, 5, 6 May 1991. Ibid., 8 May 1991. Ibid., 5, 9 May 1991. Ibid., 18, 20 May 1991. Tanner, M., Croatia: A Nation Forged in War (New Haven, 1997), 248. Slobodna Dalmacija, 20 May 1991. Neretva Metkovic´ also endured difficulties. Juric´, I., Narona/Neretva 1919.– 1994. (Metkovic´, 1995), 132, 236. Slobodna Dalmacija, 27, 30 May 1991; Dujmovic´, M. & A. Livaja, Nogometni klub Dinara Knin, 1913– 2013 (Knin, 2013), 101. Prnjak, H., Bad Blue Boys – Prvih 10 godina (Zagreb, 1997), 84 –5; Dinamo, May 1991. Author interview with Red Firm members Miroslav, Ognjen and Nebojsˇa. Novi Sad, November 2007. Dinamo, June 1991. Author interview with Predrag Trkulja, Belgrade, March 2007; Todic´, M., 110 godina fudbala u Srbiji (Belgrade, 2006), 181– 5. European Cup Final: Red Star Belgrade v Olympique Marseille, live broadcast, BBC1, 29 May 1991, British Film Institute National Archive. Tempo, 5 June 1991. Zvezda revija, June 1991. Belgrade clubs enjoyed support in Knin throughout the socialist era. Sport magazin, 1 August 1990. Zvezda revija, June 1991; Author interview with Predrag Trkulja; European Cup Final: Red Star Belgrade v Olympique Marseille, live broadcast, BBC1, 29 May 1991; Mills, R., ‘“It All Ended in an Unsporting Way”: Serbian Football and the Disintegration of Yugoslavia, 1989– 2006’, International Journal of the History of Sport 29:9 (2009), 1197– 9. Wilson, J., Behind the Curtain: Travels in Eastern European Football (London, 2006), 107.

354

NOTES

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252 –260

94. ‘Ðurd¯evdan’ (St George’s Day), ‘Marsˇ na Drinu’ (March on the Drina) and ‘Tamo daleko’ (There, far away). Zvezda revija, June 1991; Tempo, 5 June 1991. 95. Zvezda revija, June 1991. 96. Ibid., July 1991. 97. Partizanov vesnik, 8 June 1991; Zvezda revija, June 1991. 98. Tempo, 5 June 1991. 99. Todic´, 110 godina, 177– 81; Tempo, 11 July 1990; Andjelic´, N., ‘The Rise and Fall of Yugoslavia: Politics and Football in the Service of the Nation(s)’, Su¨dosteuropa 62:2 (2014), 122; Janic´, V. (dir.), Poslednji jugoslovenski fudbalski tim (Amsterdam, 2000). 100. Tubic´, M.P., Jugoslovenski sport: koreni, razvoj, razdruzˇivanje (Novi Sad, 2005), 599. 101. Tomas, M., Ivica Osim: The Game of His Life (Zenica, 2014), 132– 6; Tempo, 6 June 1990. See also: Janic´, Poslednji jugoslovenski fudbalski tim; Andjelic´, ‘The Rise and Fall’, 121. 102. Sport, 5 June 1990; Tempo, 6 June 1990. 103. Author interview with Red Firm members; Tempo, 18 July 1990; Janic´, Poslednji jugoslovenski fudbalski tim. 104. Plus sport, 4 July 1990; Topcˇic´, Z., Pape: Romansirana biografija Safeta Susˇic´a (Zenica, 2007), 63, 136– 7. 105. Tempo, 12 September 1990; Politika: The International Weekly, 19 October 1991. 106. Sport magazin, 18 July 1990. 107. Andjelic´, ‘The Rise and Fall’, 121. 108. Sport magazin, 18 July 1990. 109. Plus sport, 4 July 1990. 110. Asanovic´, A. & A. Kacˇic´ Karlin, Vatreni lakat: Sjec´anja Aljosˇe Asanovic´a (Split, 2005), 9 – 22; Sack, A.L. & Z. Suster, ‘Soccer and Croatian Nationalism: A Prelude to War’, Journal of Sport and Social Issues 24:3 (2000), 313– 16. 111. Asanovic´ & Kacˇic´ Karlin, Vatreni lakat, 17 – 18. 112. Brentin, ‘“A lofty battle”’, 998. 113. Tubic´, Jugoslovenski sport, 614. 114. Lampe, J.R., Yugoslavia as History: Twice There was a Country (Cambridge, 2000), 370. 115. Novi list, 1, 2 July 1991. 116. Politika: The International Weekly, 30 March 1991. 117. Dinamo, April 1991. 118. Ibid. 119. Slobodna Dalmacija, 28 May 1991; Tempo, 19 June 1991. 120. Sportski zˇurnal, 13 June 1991; Politika: The International Weekly, 3 August 1991. 121. Politika: The Internaional Weekly, 13 April 1991. 122. Sportski zˇurnal, 1 June 1991. 123. Slobodna Dalmacija, 26 May 1991. 124. Tempo, 19 June 1991. 125. Slobodna Dalmacija, 27 May 1991.

NOTES 126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 138. 139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. 149. 150.

TO PAGES

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355

Duke, V. & L. Crolley, Football, Nationality and the State (Harlow, 1996), 16–19. Sportski zˇurnal, 1, 2, 4 July 1991; Novi list, 2 July 1991. Novi list, 15 July 1991; Sportski zˇurnal, 17 July 1991. Novi list, 20, 21, 22 July 1991. Goldstein, I., Croatia: A History (London, 1999), 228– 9. Sportski zˇurnal, 28 July 1991. Novi list, 29 July 1991. Ibid. Ibid., 28, 29 July 1991; Sportski zˇurnal, 25, 26, 28 July 1991. Novi list, 31 July 1991. Ibid., 5 August 1991. Politika: The International Weekly, 3 August 1991; Sportski zˇurnal, 31 July 1991. Zvezda revija, August 1991; Politika: The International Weekly, 3 August 1991. See also: Cˇolovic´, Politics of Symbol, 264. Zvezda revija, August 1991. Tempo, 21 August, 6 November 1991. Sportski zˇurnal, 2 August 1991; Tanner, Croatia, 248–9. Sportski zˇurnal, 8 August 1991; Novi list, 8 August 1991. Mladina, 6 August 1991; Novi list, 30 July 1991; Sportski zˇurnal, 7 August 1991. Novi list, 11 August 1991; Sportski zˇurnal, 10 August 1991. Sportski zˇurnal, 13 August 1991. Ibid., 9 August 1991; Tempo, 21 August 1991. Sindbæk, ‘“A Croatian champion”’, 1015. Vrcan, ‘Curious Drama’, 63. Slobodna Dalmacija, 13 May 1991. Author interview with Stjepan Jukic´-Peladic´.

Chapter 9 Football on the Frontlines, 1991 –5 1. Author interview with Zlatibor Sladic´, Knin, 29 April 2016; Dujmovic´, M. & A. Livaja, Nogometni klub Dinara Knin, 1913– 2013 (Knin, 2013), 74, 91 – 5. 2. Novi list, 9, 12, 13 August 1991. 3. Ibid., 13, 14, 15, 16, 17 August 1991. 4. Tanner, M., Croatia: A Nation Forged in War (New Haven, 2001), 254– 5. 5. Tempo, 27 November 1991. 6. Ibid.; Novi list, 18 August 1991. 7. Novi list, 25 August 1991. 8. Ibid., 21, 26 August 1991. See also: Novi list, 31 August, 1, 2 September 1991. 9. Novi list, 21, 29 August 1991. 10. Ibid., 10, 14, 23 August 1991. 11. Mladina, 3 September 1991; ‘Naseljena stanovanja po sˇtevilu gospodinjstev in oseb ter stanovanja v druzˇbeni lasti, naselja, Slovenija, Popis 1991’, Republika

356

12. 13. 14.

15. 16. 17. 18.

19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37.

NOTES

TO PAGES

270 –275

Slovenija Statisticˇni Urad, 1991, ,www.stat.si/publikacije/popisi/1991/nas elja/1991_6_10.xls. (Accessed July 2016). Tempo, 2 October 1991; Novi list, 19 August 1991. Olimpija went out of business in 2005. Wilson, J., Behind the Curtain: Travels in Eastern European Football (London, 2006), 136– 45. Novi list, 18 August 1991. Brentin, D., ‘“A lofty battle for the nation”: The Social Roles of Sport in Tudjman’s Croatia’, Sport in Society 16:8 (2013), 993– 5; Brentin, D., ‘“Now You See Who Is a Friend and Who an Enemy”: Sport as an Ethnopolitical Identity Tool in Postsocialist Croatia’, Su¨dosteuropa 62:2 (2014), 194. Novi list, 13 August 1991. Ibid., 18, 23 August, 7 September 1991. Ibid., 10 September 1991. In 1991, refugees in Zagreb founded Vukovar ’91. While Vukovar was on the other side of the frontline, this team competed in the Croatian leagues. During the 1992 –3 season, 16 teams from Slavonia and Baranja competed at the third tier, including a ‘representation of occupied Baranja, that plays its home games in Breznica Nasˇicˇka’. Kramer, F., Hrvatski nogometni savez: 80. obljetnica (Zagreb, 1992), 222. Simultaneously, Croatian sports historians wrote the history of sport in lost Vukovar. Frntic´, F., ‘Pocˇeci organiziranog sˇportskog zˇivota u Vukovaru’, Povijest sˇporta 23:92 (1992), 21 – 7. Tempo, 21 August 1991. Novi list, 4 September 1991. Ibid., 13 September 1991. Tanner, Croatia, 256– 7. Novi list, 14, 24 September 1991. See, for example: Petranovic´, I., ‘Poginuli sˇportasˇi – branitelji u Domovinskom ratu iz Nove Gradisˇke’, Povijest sˇporta 29:116 (1998), 80 – 2. Novi list, 17 September 1991. Vrcan, S. & D. Lalic´, ‘From Ends to Trenches, and Back: Football in the Former Yugoslavia’, in G. Armstrong & R. Giulianotti (eds), Football Cultures and Identities (London, 1999), 176– 85. Lalic´, D., ‘Bad Blue Boys i Torcida’, Erasmus 57 (1995), 51 – 2. Ibid.; Prnjak, H., Bad Blue Boys: Prvih 10 godina (Zagreb, 1997), 94 – 5. Lalic´, D., Torcida: pogled iznutra (Zagreb, 1993), 295– 6. Ibid., 295; Prnjak, Bad Blue Boys, 95. Lalic´, ‘BBB i Torcida’, 51 – 2. Author observation, 2016. Novi list, 16, 18, 19 September 1991. Ibid., 23 September 1991. Brentin, ‘“A lofty battle”’, 998– 9. See also: Sˇimlesˇa, B., Sportske bitke za Hrvatsku (Zagreb, 1995). Novi list, 23 September 1991. Lazzarich, M., Kantrida bijelih snova (Rijeka, 2008), 160; Kramer, Hrvatski nogometni savez, 268; Tanner, Croatia, 266– 9. Kramer, Hrvatski nogometni savez, 218.

NOTES 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47.

48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67.

TO PAGES

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357

Tanner, Croatia, 277– 81. Novi list, 5 February 1992. Ibid., 27 February 1992. Ibid., 9 March 1992. Ibid., 8, 15 March 1992. Ibid., 11, 15 March, 12, 29 April 1992. Lazzarich, Kantrida bijelih snova, 161; Novi list, 11 March, 5, 21 April 1992. Novi list, 6 April 1992. Ibid., 25 February 1992. Lalic´, ‘BBB i Torcida’, 54 – 5; The ‘bastard name’, a combination of the names of two distinct interwar rivals, was dropped in 1993. Its replacement, ‘Croatia’, was no more popular, though Tud¯man was a fierce advocate. Despite the negative publicity that this ill-advised venture generated for the HDZ, the Dinamo name was only reinstated after Tud¯man’s death. Sindbæk, T., ‘“A Croatian champion with a Croatian name”: National Identity and Uses of History in Croatian Football Culture – The Case of Dinamo Zagreb’, Sport in Society 16:8 (2013), 1009– 24; Vrcan, S., ‘The Curious Drama of the President of a Republic Versus a Football Fan Tribe’, International Review for the Sociology of Sport 37:1 (2002), 59 – 77; Vujevic´, M., ‘Semanticˇki profil imena NK “Dinamo” i NK “Croatia”’, Politicˇka misao 37:1 (2000), 141– 7. Brentin, ‘“Now You See”’, 200– 1. Novi list, 10, 27 February, 5 March 1992. Asanovic´, A. & A. Kacˇic´ Karlin, Vatreni lakat: Sjec´anja Aljosˇe Asanovic´a (Split, 2005), 253. Mills, R., ‘Commemorating a Disputed Past: Football Club and Supporters’ Group War Memorials in the Former Yugoslavia’, History 97:328 (2012), 568– 72. Novi list, 10, 11 August 1991. Sportski zˇurnal, 14 August 1991. Novi list, 12 August 1991. Ibid. Lanfranchi, P. & M. Taylor, Moving with the Ball: The Migration of Professional Footballers (Oxford, 2001), 133– 9. Sportski zˇurnal, 19 August 1991; Mills, R., ‘Velezˇ Mostar Football Club and the Demise of “Brotherhood and Unity” in Yugoslavia, 1922– 2009’, Europe – Asia Studies 62:7 (2010), 1117– 19. Atanasovski, I., Nie sme golemo semejstvo na fudbalot (Skopje, 2005), 124. Tempo, 11 December 1991. Zvezda revija, December 1991. Tanner, Croatia, 258. Tempo, 18 December 1991. Ibid. See also: Cˇolovic´, I., The Politics of Symbol in Serbia (London, 2002), 264–5. Tempo, 30 October 1991. Ibid., 11, 18 December 1991. Ibid., 11 December 1991. Ibid., 30 October 1991.

358 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92.

93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100.

NOTES

TO PAGES

284 –293

Ibid., 20 November 1991. Ibid., 11 December 1991. Zvezda revija, December 1991. Ibid., March 1992; Cˇolovic´, I., ‘Od Delija do Tigrova’, Erasmus 57 (1995), 60 – 2; Cˇolovic´, Politics of Symbol, 277– 8. Zvezda revija, December 1991. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., January 1992. Ibid. Tempo, 18 December 1991. Ibid., 20 November 1991. See also: Janic´, V. (dir.), Poslednji jugoslovenski fudbalski tim (Amsterdam, 2000). Tempo, 20 November 1991. Ibid., 11 December 1991. Ibid.; Partizanov vesnik, 2 November 1991. Sportski zˇurnal, 23 March 1992. Atanasovski, Nie sme golemo semejstvo, 123. Another 5.5 per cent were ‘Yugoslavs’. Lampe, J.R., Yugoslavia as History: Twice There was a Country (Cambridge, 2003), 337. Silber, L. & A. Little, The Death of Yugoslavia (London, 1996), 222– 4. Mills, ‘Velezˇ’, 1118. Mills, R., ‘“The pitch itself was no man’s land:” Siege, Zˇeljeznicˇar Sarajevo Football Club and the Grbavica Stadium’, Nationalities Papers 44:6 (2016), 887– 94. Karacˇic´, M., Zlatne godine: Sˇest desetljec´a nogometa u Sˇirokom Brijegu (Sˇiroki Brijeg, 2008), 95 – 9. Sportski zˇurnal, 8 April 1992. Ibid., 21, 30 April 1992. Politika: The International Weekly, 18 April 1992. Their last-minute replacements, Denmark, won the trophy. Tomas, M., Ivica Osim: The Game of His Life (Zenica, 2014), 120, 145– 6; Politika: The International Weekly, 30 May, 6 June 1992; Janic´, Poslednji jugoslovenski fudbalski tim. Oslobod¯enje, 19 July 1992; MacKenzie, L., Peacekeeper: The Road to Sarajevo (Vancouver, 1993), 303. Triumph 5 (1994). FIS, 15 December 1993. Oslobod¯enje, 14 July 1992. Kebo, O., ‘Horde zla i manjaci’, Erasmus 57 (1995), 56; Mills, ‘Commemorating’, 562– 8. Rose, M., Fighting for Peace: Lessons from Bosnia (London, 1999), 134. Oslobod¯enje, 21 March 1994. Rose, Fighting for Peace, 134–5. In Vitez, British peacekeepers used football to fraternise with Croat forces. ‘Vitez’, United Kingdom Land Forces Mobile News Team, 24 July 1993, Imperial War Museum (IWM), /BFA 244.

NOTES 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 138. 139.

TO PAGES

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Oslobod¯enje, 21 March 1994; Triumph 4 (1994). Oslobod¯enje, 21 March 1994. Rose, Fighting for Peace, 136. Kebo, ‘Horde zla i manjaci’, 56. Ibid., 56 – 7; Rose, Fighting for Peace, 136. Author interview with Senad Dizdarevic´, Sarajevo, 25 November 2015. Nasif Gljiva, ‘E moj Hase’. Kebo, ‘Horde zla i manjaci’, 56; Author interview with Senad Dizdarevic´. Oslobod¯enje, 19 March, 5 August 1994; Oslobod¯enje: Evropsko nedjeljno izdanje, 1, 15, 29 December 1994. Oslobod¯enje, 19 March 1994. Triumph 6, 1995. Oslobod¯enje: Evropsko nedjeljno izdanje, 27 July 1995. Mills, ‘Velezˇ’, 1118– 19. Lalic´, ‘BBB i Torcida’, 54 – 5. Topic´, M. (ed.), Hrvatski sˇportski klub (HSˇK) “Zrinjski”, 1905– 1993 (Mostar, 1993), 29. Mills, ‘Velezˇ’, 1120– 5. ‘Refugees in Tomislavgrad’, United Kingdom Land Forces Mobile News Team, 29 July 1993, IWM/BFA 253; Karacˇic´, Zlatne godine, 103– 8. Karacˇic´, Zlatne godine, 99, 106– 7. Oslobod¯enje, 17, 27 June 1994. Ibid., 30 June 1994. Ibid., 16, 25 July 1994. Ibid., 23, 24 July 1994. Ibid., 24 July 1994. Ibid., 7, 13 September 1994. Triumph 5 (1994). Oslobod¯enje, 13 September 1994. Ibid., 16 September 1994. Mills, R., ‘Fighters, Footballers and Nation Builders: Wartime Football in the Serb-held Territories of the Former Yugoslavia, 1991– 1996’, Sport in Society 16:8 (2013), 952– 4. Ibid. Ibid., 964– 5. Derbi, 13 September 1994. Mills, ‘Fighters’, 948; Mrkalj, M., ‘Sto godina nogometa u Glini (1913–2013)’, Ljetopis srpskog kulturnog drusˇtva Prosvjeta 18 (2013), 258–9. Derbi, 5 July 1994. Mills, ‘Fighters’, 948– 51. Ibid., 945, 956– 9. Tanner, Croatia, 298. Dujmovic´ & Livaja, Nogometni klub Dinara, 72. Hudelist, D., Tud¯man: Biografija (Zagreb, 2004). Ostrosˇki, Lj., 1469: Popis stanovnisˇtva, kuc´anstava i stanova 2011. Stanovnisˇtvo prema drzˇavljanstvu, narodnosti, vjeri i materinskom jeziku (Zagreb, 2013), 44.

360

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TO PAGES

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Author interview with Zlatibor Sladic´. Dujmovic´ & Livaja, Nogometni klub Dinara, 107, 391. Ibid., 107– 18. Ibid., 165– 6. Mills, ‘Fighters’, 952. Borkovic´, G., ‘Jedan klub – dvije monografije’, Prosvjeta 127 (2015), 63; Vreme, 20 June 2013. 146. Dujmovic´ & Livaja, Nogometni klub Dinara, 39. 147. Hadzˇialic´, N., Fudbalski klub Zˇeljeznicˇar, 1982. – 2007. (Sarajevo, 2007), 66 – 79, 85 – 7. Discussions over integration began in December 1994. 148. Atanasovski, Nie sme golemo semejstvo, 125. Since the 1990s, the potential of reuniting the former Yugoslavia’s clubs in some form of shared competition has proved a divisive subject. Wood, S., ‘Football After Yugoslavia: Conflict, Reconciliation and the Regional Football League Debate’, Sport in Society 16:8 (2013), 1077 –90.

140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145.

Conclusion 1. Plaque at NK Zagreb Stadium, erected 28 May 1995. 2. Stanislav Galic´ – Transcripts, 2001– 2003, International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), /IT-98-29-T, 2026, 2028, 2752, 2816, 2892– 4, 2900– 1; Dragomir Milosˇevic´ – Transcripts, 2004– 2009, ICTY/IT98-29/1, 2931, 4742. 3. Mladen Naletilic´ and Vinko Martinovic´ – Amended Indictment, 28 November 2000, ICTY/IT-98-34-T; Mladen Naletilic´ and Vinko Martinovic´ – Transcripts, 2000–2003, ICTY/IT-98-34-T, 7251–2, 2926–31; Mladen Naletilic´ and Vinko Martinovic´ – Judgement, 31 March 2003, ICTY/IT-98-34-T. 4. Momcˇilo Krajisˇnik – Transcripts, 2000 –2009, ICTY/IT-00-39-T, 2375, 2385. 5. Momcˇilo Krajisˇnik and Biljana Plavsˇic´ – Amended Consolidated Indictment, 7 March 2002, ICTY/IT-00-39 and ICTY/IT-00-40-PT. 6. Honig, J.W. & N. Both, Srebrenica: Record of a War Crime (London, 1997), 59 – 60. See also: Momcˇilo Krajisˇnik – Transcripts, 2000– 2009, ICTY/IT-0039-T, 2375, 2385, 2388– 90. 7. ‘Report on the State of Human Rights in Bosnia and Herzegovina – Analysis for January – December 2002 period’, The Helsinki Committee for Human Rights in Bosnia and Hercegovina, ,http://www.bh-hchr.org/Reports/ reportHR2002.htm. (Accessed June 2008). A similar banner was displayed in 2005. Miller, P.B., ‘Contested Memories: The Bosnian Genocide in Serb and Muslim Minds’, Journal of Genocide Research 8:3 (2006), 314.

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Vilovac, J. (ed.), F.K. Vojvodina 1914– 1964: Pola veka (Novi Sad, 1964). Vojnovic´, V. (ed.), Almanah Jugoslovenskog sporta, 1943– 1963. (Belgrade, 1964). Vojnovic´, B. (ed.), Zapisnici politbiroa centralnog komiteta komunisticˇke partije Hrvatske, 1945– 1952., Svezak 2, 1949– 1952. (Zagreb, 2006). Vrcan, S. & D. Lalic´, ‘From Ends to Trenches, and Back: Football in the Former Yugoslavia’, in G. Armstrong & R. Giulianotti (eds), Football Cultures and Identities (London, 1999), 176– 85. Vrcan, S., Nogomet, Politika, Nasilje (Zagreb, 2003). ——, ‘The Curious Drama of the President of a Republic versus a Football Fan Tribe’, International Review for the Sociology of Sport 37:1 (2002), 59–77. Vuic´, J., The Sarajevo Olympics: A History of the 1984 Winter Games (Amherst, 2015). Vujevic´, M., ‘Semanticˇki profil imena NK “Dinamo” i NK “Croatia”’, Politicˇka misao 37:1 (2000), 141– 7. Vujnovic´, V. (ed.), NK Rijeka, 1946. – 1976. (Rijeka, 1976). Vukadinovic´, Lj., Vecˇiti rivali (Belgrade, 1943). —— (ed.), Nasˇ sport u 1948 godini (Belgrade, 1949). ——, Jugoslovenski futbal (Belgrade, 1950). ——, “Radnicˇki” 1920– 1955 (Belgrade, 1955). Vukelic´, B., ‘Nogometna utakmica igracˇa 6. licˇke i 13. primorsko –goranske divizije u otocˇcu 1943. godine’, Povijest sporta 6:22 (1975), 2147– 9. Vukovic´, J., Raki: Jedna karijera (Belgrade, 2008). Wagg, S. & D. Andrews (eds), East Plays West: Sport and the Cold War (London, 2007). Wilson, J., Behind the Curtain: Travels in Eastern European Football (London, 2006). Wood, S., ‘Football After Yugoslavia: Conflict, Reconciliation and the Regional Football League Debate’, Sport in Society 16:8 (2013), 1077– 90. Yeomans, R., Visions of Annihilation: The Ustasha Regime and the Cultural Politics of Fascism, 1941– 1945 (Pittsburgh, 2013). Zdunic´, D. (ed.), Enciklopedija jugoslavenskog nogometa (Zagreb, 1974). Zec, D., ‘The Origins of Soccer in Serbia’, Serbian Studies 24:1 – 2 (2010), 137 – 59. ——, ‘Oaza normalnosti ili tuzˇna slika stvarnosti? Fudbal u okupiranoj Srbiji (1941– 1944)’, Godisˇnjak za drusˇtvenu istoriju 3 (2011), 49 – 70. ——, ‘Money, Politics, and Sports: Stadium Architecture in Interwar Serbia’, in J. Bogdanovic´, L. Filipovitch Robinson & I. Marjanovic´ (eds), On the Very Edge: Modernism and Modernity in the Arts and Architecture of Interwar Serbia (1918 – 1941) (Leuven, 2014), 269– 87. ——, ‘Od uzornog omladinca do butovnika bez razloga – popularne predstave o fudbalerima u Jugoslaviji 50-ih i 60-ih godina 20. veka’, in Z. Janjetovic´ (ed.), Istorijska tribina: Istrazˇivanja mladih saradnika instituta za noviju istoriju Srbije (Belgrade, 2016), 115– 37. ——, ‘Kratak osvrt na pojavu fudbalskih navijacˇa u Kraljevini SHS/Jugoslaviji’, Glasnik Etnografskog instituta SANU 64:2 (2016), 217– 38. Zec, D., F. Baljkas & M. Paunovic´, Sport Remembers: Serbian-British Sporting Contacts During the First World War (Belgrade, 2015). Zˇic, I., A Short History of the City of Rijeka (Rijeka, 2007).

INDEX

Page numbers in italics refer to photographs and tables. AC Spalato, 47 Ahmetovic´, Refik, 225 Albania, 47, 81, 174, 295 Albanians, in Kosovo, 157, 173– 4, 176, 177– 8, 192, 193 see also Kosovo Aleksandar I, King of Yugoslavia, 15, 18, 20, 32 Algeria, 113–14 Aljinovic´-Ilijasˇ, Ilija, 49 amateur and professional status, footballers, 17, 97, 122– 3, 131, 139, 149, 151 Andrejevic´, Milhailo, 105 Anti-Fascist Council for the National Liberation of Yugoslavia see AVNOJ ‘Arkan’ (Razˇnatovic´, Zˇeljko), 218, 219, 220– 2, 225, 226, 274, 284– 6, 287, 288, 309 Armada, Rijeka, 194, 213, 238, 273 Arsenijevic´, Milorad, 77 Associated Labour Act, 153 Association of Football Coaches of Yugoslavia see SFTJ Australia, 107, 108, 224, 229– 31 Austria, 140, 170, 257, 274, 286 AVNOJ (Anti-Fascist Council for the National Liberation of Yugoslavia), 52, 74

Babic´, Milan, 204, 236 Bacˇka Subotica, 25 – 6 Bad Blue Boys (BBB), Zagreb, 181, 183–4, 191– 2, 194, 265 during Croatian War (1991– 5), 218, 273, 274 and Maksimir Riot, 202, 206– 9, 210– 11, 212– 13, 225 monument to, 202, 203, 218 nationalist behaviour of, 185– 6, 196, 198, 201 political associations of, 188, 189, 205 Badinter Commission, The, 288 Bakalli, Mahmut, 159 Bakaric´, Vlado, 121 Bali, 112 Banija Glina, 301 Banja Luka, 45, 196– 9, 300, 310 see also Borac Banja Luka; Vultures Banovina Hrvatska (Province of Croatia), 25, 26, 37 Bari, 42, 58 – 62, 60, 65, 251–2 BASK (Belgrade Academic Sport Club), 75 basketball, 51, 113, 159 Beara, Vladimir, 105, 112, 132, 303 Belgrade see also BASK; BSK; Metalac Belgrade; OFK Belgrade; Partizan

INDEX Belgrade; Rad Belgrade; Radnicˇki Belgrade; Red Star Belgrade celebrations in, 106, 252 centralisation in, 11, 12, 18 – 20, 22, 80, 98 – 9 illegal communist activity in, 30, 32, 37 JNA Stadium, 86, 101, 113, 234, 248, 257 Marakana Stadium, 101, 157, 166, 251, 279, 280, 284, 287 during World War II, 27, 46, 69 Belgrade Football Sub-Association, 14 Belgrade Sport Club see BSK Bezˇigrad Stadium, Ljubljana, 9 – 10, 10, 47, 47, 193– 4 ‘Big Four’, 93, 125, 131, 157, 181, 233 see also Dinamo Zagreb; Hajduk Split; Partizan Belgrade; Red Star Belgrade Bijedic´, Dzˇemal, 140–1 Bilic´, Jure, 119, 147, 159 Bilic´, Slaven, 247 Bitola, 47 see also Pelister Bitola Block of Yugoslav Workers’ Clubs see BRKJ Blue Marines, Subotica, 181 Boban, Zvonimir, 188, 203, 257 and Maksimir Riot, 208, 210, 214, 215, 217, 222– 6 Bobek, Stjepan, 77 –8, 85, 101, 104, 114, 140, 144 Olympic Diary, 102, 104 Bogdanovic´, Radmilo, 220 Boksˇic´, Alen, 247 Borac Banja Luka, 197, 300, 302, 305, 310 see also Vultures Borac Glavice, 273 Borac Zagreb, 119, 132 Borba, 116– 18, 128, 147, 209, 211, 240 Borovo selo, 25, 98, 284, 285 massacre in, 244– 6, 248, 249 Bosˇkov, Vujadin, 105, 110– 11, 112, 113

373

Bosnia & Hercegovina, 82, 84, 191, 250, 289, 305 see also Banja Luka; Cˇapljina; Focˇa; Ljubusˇki; Mostar; Republika Srpska; Sarajevo; Srebrenica; Tuzla; Zenica Bosnian War (1992– 5), 288, 289, 290, 291– 4, 292, 295, 296 after ceasefire, 291, 297, 299 Croats of, 16, 191, 197– 8, 288, 295– 6, 303 following liberation, 69 football in, 26, 134 during, 1991– 2 season, 264, 265, 281, 283, 285, 288– 9 Bosnian War (1992– 5), 288– 96, 297– 9 illegal communist activity in, 30, 33 – 4, 34, 39 – 40 independence of, 288 Muslims of, 11, 25, 44, 76, 82, 84, 192, 196– 200, 225, 248, 286, 288, 295 as part of NDH, 44, 76 partisan resistance in, 49 – 50 Serbs of, 16, 139– 40, 191– 2, 197– 8, 288, 299– 301 Yugoslav nationalism in, 197, 199, 255 Bosnian Football Association, 293, 297–8 Branik Maribor, 86 see also Maribor, NK Bratstvo Bratunac, 309 Bratstvo – Jedinstvo Becˇej, 84 Brazil, 116, 156, 160– 1, 179 Brijacˇek, Ivan, 37 British Armed Forces teams vs. Hajduk NOVJ, 53, 56, 59 – 62, 60, 62 – 3, 63– 4, 65, 66, 67 –9, 322n.59 BRKJ (Block of Yugoslav Workers’ Clubs), 31 – 2, 33 Brncˇic´, Marijan, 146 Broc´ic´, Ljubisˇa, 109 ‘Brotherhood and Unity’, 2, 71, 76, 81, 84, 88, 90, 96, 100, 120, 121, 128–9, 148, 156, 159, 160, 165, 167, 198, 209, 309

374

THE POLITICS OF FOOTBALL

BSK (Belgrade Sport Club), 13, 14, 19, 25, 46, 77, 97, 110 see also Metalac Belgrade World War II activities of, 74 – 5, 77 Buduc´nost Titograd, 89, 117, 142, 161, 184, 188 Bukovica Kistanje, 301 Bulgaria, 15, 46 – 7, 81, 102, 140 Buljan, Ivan, 169 Buljanovic´, Vicko, 38 Bum Bum Girls, Titograd, 184 Burma, 111– 13 Cˇajkovski, Zlatko, 78, 140, 144 C´ao tifo, 189, 190, 192, 199, 210, 211, 212 Cˇapljina, 255– 6 Carrington, Peter, 282 Catholic Church, 175, 212– 13 Cˇelebic´, Milan, 84 celebrity status of footballers, 122, 123 Cˇelik Zenica, 296– 7, 310 Cˇetnik movement, 45, 53, 65, 70, 74, 76, 119, 186, 197 see also Delije as alternative name for Red Star, 234 chants featuring, 208, 209, 238, 304 term used as insult, 97 – 8, 130, 244, 249, 274, 304 use of iconography, 252 China, 111, 112, 160 Cibalia Vinkovci, 270, 271, 276– 7 Cindric´, Slavin, 45 City Stadium, Novi Sad see Karad¯ord¯e Stadium Cominform (Communist Information Bureau), 80, 102– 3, 104, 105–6, 121 see also Tito-Stalin Split Commando Girls, Belgrade, 184 commemoration, 15, 27 – 8, 137– 9, 140– 2, 163– 5, 257, 266, 296 of wars of 1990s, 202– 3, 203, 218, 226, 272, 274, 279, 291, 292, 304, 310, 310 of World War II, 45, 49, 70 – 1, 137– 9, 140–2, 141, 159, 160, 257, 266, 304, 310, 327n.49

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YUGOSLAVIA

Communism, 28 – 9 see also KPJ; SKOJ; Soviet Union activity within football clubs contribution to National Liberation Struggle, 48 –50, 56 in the Kingdom, 28 – 40 after liberation, 78, 83 – 4, 85 demonstrations in support of, 37 – 8, 39 – 40 during Nazi occupation, 36 – 7, 43, 48 education in, through football, 30, 31, 35 – 6, 85 after liberation, 69, 70, 73, 74 – 8 purge of football clubs, 74 – 5, 76 – 7 petokraka, 30, 61, 84, 229, 231– 3, 237, 252 purge of communist symbols, 228– 35 and Spanish Civil War, 36, 37, 39 Communist Information Bureau see Cominform Communist Party of Croatia see KPH Communist Party of Yugoslavia see KPJ Concordia Zagreb, 13, 44, 75, 307 contracts, for players, 17, 169 Contributions for a Slovenian National Programme, 193 corruption, 13 – 14, 17, 130, 133–4, 276, 277 see also scandals Council for the National Liberation of Croatia see ZAVNOH Crnogorac Cetinje, 316n.13 Croatia see also Croatian War; Dubrovnik; Glina; Kijevo; Knin; Lika; Osijek; Otocˇac; Pula; Rijeka; RSK; Sˇibenik; Slavonia; Split; Vis; Vukovar; Zadar; Zagreb after, 1990 elections, 203– 5, 206, 210, 215, 226 see also HDZ; Maksimir Stadium flag burning, 236, 238 –42 hostility towards Yugoslav national team, 254– 5

INDEX ‘discrimination’ by Belgrade, 20, 77, 118, 120, 132, 143– 5, 146– 7 independence of, 33, 258, 265 see also NDH recognition of, 276, 278– 9 in the Kingdom, 10, 12, 13, 16, 18, 19 –27 workers’ clubs in, 27 – 9, 30 – 1, 32, 37 – 8 national team of, 26 – 7, 44, 256, 279 purge of communist symbols in, 229– 33, 265– 6 Serbs of, 1, 143, 177, 191– 2, 202, 203– 5, 206, 215, 217, 218, 226, 238, 252, 256 see also Dinara Knin; RSK; Velebit Benkovac Association of Serb Municipalities, 236 Borovo selo massacre, 244– 6, 248, 249 Log Revolution, 236– 7 in socialist Yugoslavia, 82, 85, 86, 103, 112, 127, 128–9, 130, 133, 161 Croatian Spring, 142–9, 230, 239 and disintegration of FSJ see HNS after liberation, 69, 70, 74, 75, 83, 87 – 9, 91, 92 and Marshal Tito Cup see Hajduk Split; Rijeka, NK nationalist politics of, 1980s, 178, 185– 6, 188– 9 see also Bad Blue Boys; Torcida Party intervention in football, 75, 77, 96 – 100, 114– 21, 129– 30, 147– 8 in World War II, 51, 52 – 3 see also NDH; RSˇK Split Hajduk NOVJ see Hajduk Split Croatian War (1991 – 5), 267, 273, 275– 6, 285, 307, 356n.18 football in see HNS Maksimir Riot as start of, 202, 203, 214, 218, 220– 2, 225– 7 Operation Storm, 303– 4, 305 football supporters’ involvement in, 218, 238, 273– 4 violence prior to, 244– 51, 261, 262

375

Croatian Academic Sport Club Zagreb see HASˇK Croatian Democratic Union see HDZ Croatian Football Association see HNS Croatian Football League, 268, 270, 271–3, 275, 276–9 Croatian Peasant Party see HSS ‘Croatian question’, 12, 20, 21, 24 Croatian Republic League, 237 Croatian Second League, 271– 2, 278, 304 Croatian Social Liberal Party, 214 Croatian Sports Harmony see HSˇS Croatian Spring, 142– 9, 230, 239 Crvena zvezda Belgrade see Red Star Belgrade Cullis, Stan, 59, 61 Cvetkovic´, Dragisˇa, 25, 27 Cvetkovic´, Vladimir, 253 Czechoslovakia, 20, 38, 81 – 2 Dabcˇevic´-Kucˇar, Savka, 143, 147 Ðanic´, Svetozar, 50 Dapcˇevic´, Peko, 159 Day of the Uprising of the Serbian People, 84 Dayton Agreement, 305 Dedijer, Vladimir, 50, 51, 74, 83, 105, 123–4, 171, 326n.18 Delije, Belgrade, 181, 186, 238, 251, 252, 279 and Maksimir Riot, 206– 9, 210, 211, 216 nationalist behaviour of, 185, 192, 194, 199, 216 political associations of, 188, 194, 206, 207– 8, 214– 15, 347n.26 paramilitary connections of, 214, 218, 220– 1, 222, 225, 226, 274, 284, 309 see also ‘Arkan’ Dervisˇkadic´, Dzˇevad, 167 Ðilas, Milovan, 86, 118 Dinamo Zagreb, 110, 130, 178, 201, 203, 233, 238, 273, 285, 304 see also Maksimir Stadium; Boban, Zvonimir

376

THE POLITICS OF FOOTBALL

Croatian Spring, 145– 6, 147, 149 after liberation, 77, 82, 89, 91 match fixing, 134 ‘negative types’ in, 78, 91 outlawed clubs, connections with, 77, 78, 144 name change, 233, 265, 278, 326– 7n.42 see also HASˇK– Grad¯anski Zagreb performances of, 93, 125, 126, 145– 6 relations with Belgrade, 95 – 6, 97, 145– 6, 149 supporters, 97, 118, 172, 181, 186, 191, 192, 196, 204 – 5, 251 see also Bad Blue Boys on Tito’s death, 163, 164 Dinara Knin, 126– 7, 237, 249, 250, 251, 267, 272 in RSK, 267, 301– 2, 302, 303– 4 Divjak, Jovan, 290 Djetvai, Karolj Pal, 139 Ðodan, Sˇime, 239 Dragi Jovanovic´ Cup, 75 Drasˇkovic´, Milorad, 28 Drasˇkovic´, Vuk, 186, 205 Drazˇic´, Darko, 248 Dubrovnik, 54, 123, 271, 273, 277, 296 Dugonjic´, Rato, 38, 82 Ðukanovic´, Branislav, 188 Dzˇajic´, Dragan, 123, 137, 140, 141, 155, 283 Egypt, 63 – 4, 109– 10 England, 59, 107, 180– 1, 183 ‘Eternal Derby’, Belgrade, 280, 287 Ethiopia, 108– 9, 110 European Championships, 107, 155, 160, 254, 290 see also UEFA 1992, 286– 7, 290 European Community, 276, 288 European Cup, 123, 125, 126, 160, 172 1991, 248, 251– 4, 253

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YUGOSLAVIA

fans see spectators February Tournament, 160 Federal Institute for International Technical Cooperation, 113 Ferhatovic´, Asim ‘Hase’, 121, 294 FIFA, 44, 137, 300 and recognition of republics, 259, 260– 1, 262, 264, 278– 9 suspension of FSJ, 290 Filipovic´, Niko Stojan, 139 Finland, 104– 6 Finney, Tom, 61 First Dalmatian Brigade, 53, 67 First Federal League, 93, 121, 125, 126, 137, 156– 7, 161, 312– 13 see also Second Federal League during disintegration of FSJ, 257– 65 establishment of, 87 – 94, 89 final season of, 235, 236– 44, 243, 251 following departure of Croat and Slovene clubs, 279– 81, 283– 4, 285, 287, 288 –9, 306 and 1952 Olympics, 104 professionalised, 123, 132 scandals within, 115– 21, 132, 134– 5, 146– 8, 153– 6, 168– 9, 171– 2 First Split Detachment, 48 flag burning, Poljud, 236, 240, 241–2 Focˇa, 50 folk music, 185, 188– 9 Football Association of Slovenia see NZS football associations for the Kingdom see JNS; VNSJ for socialist Yugoslavia see FSJ see also Bosnian Football Association; HNS; NZS; Republika Srpska Football Association; ZNS Football Championship of HercegBosna, 296 Football Group, NOVJ, 53, 56, 57 foreign transfers, 146, 155– 6, 255 Fortuna Du¨sseldorf, 295 Franusˇic´, Niko, 126– 7, 303 ‘Free Croatia ’91’, 275

INDEX Front slobode, 154 FSJ (Football Association of Yugoslavia), 92, 203, 238– 9, 243 and Boban suspension, 217 disintegration of, 195, 237– 8, 243, 246, 258– 65, 267 establishment of, 82, 85, 91 ‘50th anniversary’, 136, 137–40, 138 following departure of Croatia and Slovenia, 266, 271, 274, 279– 80, 281, 282– 3, 287, 290, 300, 305 and foreign tours, 133– 4 and match fixing, 171– 2 and professional football, 122– 3, 131– 2, 132–3, 156 relations with republics, 82, 99, 100, 118, 132, 143, 144– 5, 146– 8, 257 and self-management, 151– 2 Fukare, Tuzla, 199 Garber, Mario, 243 genocide, 177, 226, 241, 297, 309, 310, 310 Germany, 133, 160– 1, 276, 295 see also Nazi Germany Gestapo, 50, 57, 78 Giler, Franja, 50 Glina, 45, 301 Grabovac, Dusˇko, 261 Gracˇanin, Branko, 145 Grad¯anski Skopje, 316n.13 Grad¯anski Zagreb, 77, 149 dissolution of, 75, 77, 144, 149 see also Dinamo Zagreb; HASˇK– Grad¯anski Zagreb in the Kingdom, 13, 16, 17, 18, 24 –5, 26, 39, 40 during World War II, 44, 50, 56, 78 Graficˇar Belgrade, 136, 137 Granicˇar Zˇupanje, 98 Grbavica Stadium, Sarajevo, 289, 291, 300– 1, 307– 8 Green Dragons, Ljubljana, 181, 194 Grnja, Ivica, 269– 70 Grobari, Belgrade, 181, 188, 192, 212, 238, 274, 279

377

Grubisˇic´, Ivica, 119 Gvero, Milan, 300 Hadzˇiabdic´, Enver, 290– 1 Hadzˇiabdic´, Mili, 248 Hadzˇibegic´, Faruk, 255, 286 Hajduk Sarajevo, 76 Hajduk Split, 16 – 17, 29, 89 see also Poljud Stadium; Stari plac in Croatian War (1991 –5), 268, 270, 273, 274– 5, 276, 277, 278, 279, 304 emblems of, 16, 229– 33 as Hajduk NOVJ demobilisation, 70 – 1 in Egypt and Middle East, 63 – 4, 66 – 7 formation of, 53 –6 in Italy, 58 – 62, 59, 60 in Malta, 62 – 3, 64 – 5 return to Split, 67 – 9, 68 on Vis, 55 – 8 and Italian occupation, 47 – 8 in the Kingdom, 13, 14, 16 – 17, 20, 21, 24 – 5, 27, 29, 39 in socialist Yugoslavia, 79, 89, 90, 145, 172 foreign tours, 80, 81, 81, 107, 108, 110, 229– 30 1990– 1 season, 228, 229– 33, 238– 43, 259, 265– 6 Marshal Tito Cup, 244, 245, 246– 9 Party intervention against, 114– 21 performances, 82, 93, 125 relations with Red Star Belgrade, 95, 116, 132 scandals involving, 114– 21, 132, 133– 4, 134– 5, 146– 8 association with Tito, 88, 162–5 supporters, 17, 18, 24 – 5, 146– 8, 165, 172, 173, 174– 5, 184, 191, 192, 204– 5, 207, 209, 238–43, 278, 296 see also Torcida HASˇK (Croatian Academic Sports Club) Zagreb, 13, 44, 48, 50, 56

378

THE POLITICS OF FOOTBALL

HASˇK – Grad¯anski Zagreb, 265, 268, 274– 5, 278, 357n.47 see also Dinamo Zagreb; Grad¯anski Zagreb HASK Sarajevo, 76 Hasanagic´, Mustafa, 123 ‘Hase’ (Ferhatovic´, Asim), 121, 294 HDZ (Croatian Democratic Union), 197, 203– 4, 224, 229, 236, 241, 242, 256, 276 see also Tud¯man, Franjo and Croatian War (1991 – 5), 263, 265, 276, 278 and Maksimir Riot, 205, 208, 211, 214, 215, 220 Herceg-Bosna, 296, 305 Hercegovina, 160, 255, 295– 6 see also Velezˇ Mostar; Zrinjski Mostar Hitler, Adolf, 47 HNS (Croatian Football Association), 132, 133 in Croatian War (1991– 5), 271–3, 276, 277, 278, 279, 356n.18 see also Croatian Football League and disintegration of FSJ, 246, 247, 250, 257, 258– 64 in the Kingdom, 24, 26 Hodzˇa, Fadilj, 159 hooliganism see spectators Horde zla, Sarajevo, 181, 197, 199– 200, 291, 294 House of Flowers, Belgrade, 163, 196 Hoxha, Enver, 174 HSS (Croatian Peasant Party), 16, 18, 20, 24, 28, 37 – 8, 119, 241 see also Macˇek, Vladko; Radic´, Stjepan HSˇS (Croatian Sports Harmony), 24 Hu¨gl, Bernard, 78, 134 Hungary, 27, 46 –7, 72, 77, 81, 105, 106, 321n.17 Hungarians, 46 – 7, 72, 139 Ilesˇicˇ, Marko, 238, 260– 2 Ilirija Ljubljana, 9, 16, 25 Illik, Antun, 45 Independent State of Croatia see NDH India, 101, 108, 109, 113

IN

YUGOSLAVIA

Indians, Zrenjanin, 181, 187 Indonesia, 111, 112 Inter-Cities Fairs Cup, 126, 145 Inter-Republic League, 249– 50 International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, 218, 307–10 Islamovic´, Muhamed, 298– 9 Israel, 108, 109 Istra Pula, 271, 273, 276, 277 Istrian peninsula, 89, 91, 98, 157, 159, 270, 271, 275, 321n.18 Italians, 56, 84, 87, 89 – 92, 98, 128– 9, 180, 257, 321n.18 Italy, 21, 47, 52, 78, 107 see also Bari Hajduk NOVJ in, 47, 56, 58 – 62, 59, 60 territorial disputes with, 20, 87, 89 – 92, 128– 9, 161– 2 World Cup 1990, 254– 5 Ivanisˇevic´, Ante, 62 Ivanovski, Trajan, 139 Ivesˇa, Mihajlo, 34 – 5, 43 Ivkovic´, Milutin, 39, 50, 140 Izetbegovic´, Alija, 290 Japan, 160, 281– 3 Jarni, Robert, 247 Jasenovac, 45, 49, 226, 241, 242 Jedinstvo Ogulin, 278 Jedinstvo Susˇak, 88, 89, 91, 97 Jedinstvo Zagreb, 98 Jeslinek, Jiri, 246 Jewish communities, 16, 45, 46, 72, 75, 84 JNA (Yugoslav People’s Army), 124, 127, 146, 189, 241 see also Partizan Belgrade in Bosnia, 288, 295 in Croatia, 236, 244, 246, 247– 8, 269, 273, 275, 284– 5, 288 in Kosovo, 173 in Serbia, 244 in Slovenia, 193, 194, 257 JNA Stadium, Belgrade, 86, 101, 113, 234, 248, 257

INDEX JNS (Yugoslav Football Association) amateurism and payment of players, 17 contested relocation of, 12, 19 – 20 corruption and scandals within, 13 –14, 20, 21 – 2 dissolution of, 26 dominance of Serbs and Croats in, 12, 13 establishment of, 12 expulsion of Croatian clubs from, 24 national championship of, 12, 13, 17, 21, 24, 25, 35, 40 reform of, 22 –4, 26 worker’s clubs in, 32, 34 – 5 Jones, Bryn, 59 Jovanovic´, Arso, 50 Jovic´, Borisav, 282 Juda Makabi Novi Sad, 16, 72 Jug Split, 16– 17, 28 – 9, 30, 32, 35 see also RNK Split; RSˇK Split Jugoslavija Belgrade, 13, 14, 15, 18, 19, 25, 39, 46, 75 Jukic´-Peladic´, Stjepan, 228, 229, 238– 9, 240– 1, 246, 247, 249, 266 Junak Sinj, 273 Jurisˇic´, Ivan, 217 Jurjevic´-Baja, Ante, 53, 56, 116, 118, 119, 321n.23 Jutarnji list, 221– 2 Kajan, Dzˇevad, 125 Kantrida Stadium, Rijeka, 91, 268, 268, 273, 276 Karad¯ord¯e Stadium, Novi Sad, 14, 46 – 7, 72 – 3, 73 Karad¯ord¯evic´ dynasty, 12, 14 Aleksandar I, King of Yugoslavia, 15, 18, 20, 32 Karadzˇic´, Radovan, 1, 293 Kardelj, Edvard, 63, 84, 122, 129, 160, 171 Kidric´, Boris, 126 Kijevo, 244, 248, 249 Killers Girls, Tuzla, 184 Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes, 11

379

Kirc´anski, Dragoljub, 139 Knin, 1, 126– 7, 191– 2, 204– 5, 236, 238, 241– 2, 250–1, 252, 256, 267, 285, 301– 4, 302 see also Dinara Knin Kohorta, Osijek, 213 Kokeza, Ljubomir, 35, 36, 39, 48, 56, 61, 66, 70, 79 Koncˇar, Rade, 49 KOS (Counterintelligence Service), 124 Kos, Mile, 212 Kosˇevo Stadium, Sarajevo, 109, 125, 291, 308, 309 Kosi, Vladimir, 139 Kosovo, 13, 241– 2, 306, 309, 328n.74 see also Pristina; Pristina, FK; Trepcˇa Kosovska Mitrovica 1978 Cup Final, 157– 9 1981 riots, 173– 4 impact on football of, 174 autonomy in, 82, 177, 178 ‘Kosovo question’, 175– 6, 177 nationalism in, 174, 178, 195 Slovene support for, 193– 4 in World War II, 47 Kosovo League of Communists, 159, 174, 178 Kosovska Mitrovica see Trepcˇa Kosovska Mitrovica Kovacˇevic´, Mirko, 37 KPH (Communist Party of Croatia), 48, 49, 52 –3, 77, 78, 96, 97 – 100, 118–21, 143, 144, 147– 8, 157, 188, 233, 346n.10 KPJ (Communist Party of Yugoslavia) see also Kosovo League of Communists; KPH; League of Communists of Serbia; League of Communists of Slovenia; Soviet Union; Tito, Josip Broz in the Kingdom, 5, 27 – 30, 33 – 40 in socialist Yugoslavia, 148– 9, 159 disintegration of, 178– 9, 195, 203 education on, 85 football as embarrassment to, 91, 154– 5, 169– 70

380

THE POLITICS OF FOOTBALL

intervention into football, 97–100, 114–21, 124–5, 129–30, 130–3, 152–3, 169–70 legacy of National Liberation Struggle, 136– 42, 160, 167 after liberation, 74, 76, 79 – 80, 84 reforms of, 103, 121– 2, 127, 129, 130, 135, 142– 3, 152– 3, 167– 8 renamed SKJ, 103 Tito –Stalin Split, 102– 3, 104, 105– 7 in World War II see National Liberation Struggle see also RSˇK Split Hajduk NOVJ see Hajduk Split Kragujevac, 30, 34, 35, 38 – 9, 42 – 3, 46, 123, 174 see also Mladi Radnik Kragujevac; Radnicˇki Kragujevac Krajina, 236, 301, 303 see also RSK Kraljevic´, Ivo, 22 – 3 Kramer, Fredi, 233 Kreacˇic´, Miroslav, 97 Kreso, Sead, 153 Krizˇevic´-Drina, Andrija, 232 Krstulovic´, Vicko, 53, 56, 321n.23 Kucˇan, Milan, 177 Kuwait, 113, 114, 160 Kuzmic´, Cˇedomir, 30 Kvarner Rijeka, 91, 92, 128– 9, 133 see also Rijeka, NK Kvarnerska Rivijera, 160, 257 Lalic´, Drazˇen, 183, 186, 273 languages, 11, 114, 143, 181, 183, 193 League of Communists of Croatia see KPH League of Communists of Serbia, 176, 177, 178– 9 see also Milosˇevic´, Slobodan League of Communists of Slovenia, 178, 192, 193– 4 League of Communist Youth of Yugoslavia see SKOJ

IN

YUGOSLAVIA

League of Communists of Yugoslavia see KPJ leagues, football see also Bosnia & Hercegovina; Croatia; Slovenia Croat – Slovene League, 25, 26, 133 Inter-Republic League, 249, 250 in the Kingdom, 12, 13, 17, 21, 24, 25, 35, 40 in socialist Yugoslavia see First Federal League; Second Federal League Leskovac Roma Football Club, 16 Levi’s HNL see Croatian Football League Lika, 51 Ljubljana, 9 –10, 11, 12, 18, 139, 171, 193–4, 207, 212, 223– 4, 254 see also Ilirija Ljubljana; Ljubljana Sport Club; Olimpija Ljubljana Bezˇigrad Stadium, 9 – 10, 10, 47, 47, 193– 4 Ljubljana Sport Club, 9, 16, 25 Ljubusˇki, 255– 6 Log Revolution, 236 Lokomotiva Zagreb, 89, 128 Lovcˇen Cetinje, 127– 8 Macˇek, Vladko, 20, 25, 26, 56 Macedonia, 11, 15, 82, 126, 139, 248, 252, 259, 279 see also Skopje; Bitola 1961 Cup Final, 125 Albanians of, 173, 174 crowd disorder in, 281 football in, 13, 15, 26, 125, 316n.13 independence of, 288, 305 match fixing scandals, 172 Serbianisation of, 15 – 16 Socialist Republic of, 82 in World War II, 47 Mackenzie, Luis, 290 Magazzini Generali, Rijeka, 91 Makedonija Skopje, 47 Maksimir Stadium, Zagreb, 140, 141, 163, 164, 207 riot, 201, 202, 203, 205– 9 see also Bad Blue Boys

INDEX media coverage of, 209– 18 myth, 218– 27 Malta, 62 – 3, 64 – 5 Manchester United, 125– 6 Maniacs, The, Sarajevo, 181, 200, 291, 292, 294 Mao Zedong, 112 Marakana Stadium, Belgrade, 101, 157, 166, 251, 279, 280, 284, 287 Maribor, NK, 170– 1 see also Branik Maribor Maric´, Enver, 153, 167 Maricˇic´, Milan, 269 Marjanovic´, Blagoje, 78 market socialism, 122 Markovic´, Ante, 199, 241 Markovic´, Radivoje, 88, 106 Marshal Tito Cup, 77, 94, 124, 125, 137, 159, 244, 245, 338n.81 1978 Final, 156– 9 1980 Final, 164 1981 Final, 166– 7 1991 Final, 246– 9 proposed reorganisation of, 258, 262 Martic´, Milan, 301 Marusˇic´, And¯elko, 17, 61, 169– 70 MASPOK (Mass Movement) see Croatian Spring match fixing, 17, 130, 134– 5, 151, 169, 170, 171– 2, 276, 281, 287 see also scandals Matica Hrvatska, 143, 148 Matosˇic´, Frane, 52, 68 –9, 118, 120, 140, 232 violence of, 25, 117, 332n.76 Matosˇic´, Jozo, 25, 52, 133–4 Mazzieri, Ettore, 92 Medaric´, Ivica, 38 Memorandum, 177 Mesic´, Stjepan, 246, 247, 249, 251, 260 Metalac Belgrade, 77, 89 see also BSK; OFK Belgrade Metalac Zagreb, 36, 49, 78 Middle East, The, 64, 66, 110 Mihailovic´, Drazˇa, 45, 74, 186, 206, 221, 252 see also Cˇetnik movement Mihajlovic´, Sinisˇa, 248, 284, 285–6

381

Milanovic´, Milan, 30 – 1, 35, 49 Milosˇevic´, Slobodan and Arkan, 218, 220 and breakup of Yugoslavia, 193, 195, 200, 220, 244 chants featuring, 188, 194, 205, 252, 347n.26 media support of, 187– 8, 210 as peacemaker, 275 rise of, 177, 178, 203 support of football, 253– 4, 282 Milutinovic´, Milosˇ 240 Misˇic´, Todor, 37 Mitic´, Rajko, 46, 83, 102, 104, 123, 124 Mladi boljsˇevik, 32 Mladi Radnik Kragujevac, 30, 34 see also Radnicˇki Kragujevac Mladic´, Ratko, 300 Mladina, 193, 194 Mladost Sˇiroki Brijeg, 296 Monopoli, 58, 59 Montenegro, 11, 13, 18, 26, 39, 79, 82, 127–8, 177, 217, 250, 259, 261, 279– 80, 306, 316n.13, 334n.114 monuments see commemoration Mosor, NK, 49 Mostar, 26, 30, 33, 40, 69, 70, 160, 248, 295– 6, 309 see also Velezˇ Mostar; Zrinjski Mostar Mrkusˇic´, Srd¯an, 123 Mulahasanovic´, Fuad, 149– 51, 150, 154–6 Muslim communities see Bosnia & Hercegovina see also Kosovo; Sandzˇak Nada Split, 49 Napredak Krusˇevac, 141 –2 national championships see leagues National Liberation Army of Yugoslavia see NOVJ National Liberation Struggle, 48 – 52, 71, 79, 82, 84, 85, 88, 96, 116, 129, 138, 167 see also commemoration Hajduk NOVJ see Hajduk Split

382

THE POLITICS OF FOOTBALL

Nazi Germany, 21, 27, 44, 70, 321n.17 occupation of Yugoslavia, 42 – 52, 64, 74, 75, 128– 9 NDH (Independent State of Croatia), 44 – 5, 46, 48, 54, 57, 75 – 6, 204 chants featuring, 208, 239, 248 football in, 44, 45, 48, 50, 70, 321n.18 nationalist use of, 234– 5, 241 Nedic´, Milan, 75 Neretvanac Opuzen, 250 Nesˇovic´, Branko, 109, 110 Nisˇ, 37, 69, 327n.48 see also Radnicˇki Nisˇ; Zˇeljeznicˇar Nisˇ Non-Aligned Movement, 107– 14, 160, 161, 294 Novi Sad, 16, 46, 76, 77, 86, 143, 166, 199 see also Karad¯ord¯e Stadium; Vojvodina Novi Sad NOVJ (National Liberation Army of Yugoslavia), 50, 51, 57 – 8, 62, 67, 69, 70, 74 Hajduk NOVJ see Hajduk Split NZS (Football Association of Slovenia), 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 264, 305 OFK Belgrade, 146, 168– 72 see also BSK; Metalac Belgrade Okuka, Dragan, 153 Olimpija Ljubljana, 9, 10, 171, 181, 193, 194, 257 following Slovene independence, 258, 264, 270, 280 Olympic Games, 12, 102, 104– 6, 107, 235, 287 Olympique Marseille, 251– 2 Operation Storm, 303– 4 Orel, Slovene Christian Social Union, 9, 18, 33, 315n.2 Orijent Susˇak, 87 Orkan Dugi Rat, 250 Osijek, 20, 24, 133, 134, 206, 246, 272, 275, 285 see also Osijek, NK

IN

YUGOSLAVIA

Osijek, NK, 192, 246, 251, 262– 3, 268–9, 270, 275, 275, 276, 277 ‘Osijek Affair’, 134 Osim, Ivica, 134– 5, 254, 255, 286, 289–90 Oslobod¯enje, 155, 293 Otocˇac, 51 Pajevic´, Nikola, 50 Panadic´, Andrej, 222– 3 Pancˇev, Darko, 203, 222, 252, 285 Pancˇevo, 46, 84 paramilitaries, 214, 218, 222, 225, 269, 285, 288, 309 see also ‘Arkan’; SDG Partisan Olympics, 50 partisan resistance see National Liberation Struggle Partizan Belgrade, 80 – 1, 82 – 3, 85, 132 see also JNA Stadium 1990– 1 season, 238, 239– 40, 243, 289– 90 1991– 2 season, 257, 258, 274, 281, 287 controversial establishment of, 77 – 8, 80 – 1, 82 – 3, 88 – 9, 144 and Franjo Tud¯man, 124, 129– 30 military foundation of, 80 – 1, 83, 124, 131, 234, 239 performances, 93, 94, 123, 125, 126, 171– 2 proposed changes of identity, 129– 30, 233– 4 supporters, 125, 181, 191– 2, 217 see also Grobari, Belgrade female supporters, 184 hooliganism, 172, 186 as symbol of Yugoslav unity, 82, 94, 129– 30, 257 youth team, 257 Party of Democratic Action see SDA Paul, Prince Regent, 20, 22 Pavelic´, Ante, 44, 144, 189, 208, 216, 229, 234– 5, 259, 351n.7 see also NDH; Ustasˇa regime Pavicˇevic´, Strahinja, 134

INDEX Pavletic´, Nikola, 137– 8 Pazinka Pazin, 271 Pehacˇek, Rado, 90 Peja/Pec´, 47 Pele´ 160 Pelister Bitola, 279, 281 Peter II, King, 20 petokraka, 30, 61, 84, 229– 34, 237 Petrinovic´, Ivo, 241, 247, 265– 6 Petrovgrad, 69 see also Zrenjanin Petrovic´, Bosˇko, 39 physical culture, 9, 71, 75, 82, 83 – 4, 86, 88, 94, 96, 103, 125, 163, 257 shortcomings of, 83, 95, 97, 99, 100, 131 Soviet inspiration for, 74, 80, 103 Pirker, Pero, 148 Planinic´, Ranko, 134 Plecˇnik, Jozˇe, 9 Plitvice National Park, 244 Plus sport, 211, 224 Podgorica, 39, 79 Poduje, Sˇime, 54, 55, 59 – 60, 62, 63 – 4, 66, 81, 95 Pogacˇnik, Toni, 78, 112 Politika, 22, 210, 224 Poljud Stadium, Split, 162, 165, 236, 238– 40, 239, 242, 243, 258–9, 274 see also Hajduk Split Ponziana Trieste, 90 –1, 94 Popovic´, Bogdan, 284 Popovic´, Jovo, 195, 196, 238– 9 Pralija, Mladen, 230 Prilep, 47 Pristina/Prishtina, 47, 176, 177, 178 Pristina, FK, 168, 173, 174, 176, 178 Prizreni/Prizren, 47, 252 professional and amateur status, footballers, 17, 97, 122– 3, 131, 139, 149, 151 Proleter Osijek, 134 Proleter Pula, 98 Proleter Zrenjanin, 181, 187 Puhovski, Zˇarko, 225 Pula, 91, 94, 98, 271, 273 Pusˇina, Jusuf, 293

383

Quarnero Rijeka see Kvarner Rijeka Rabotnicˇki Skopje, 139 Racˇic´, Punisˇa, 18 Rad Belgrade, 269, 289 Radic´, Stjepan, 16, 18, 189 Radinovic´, Dusˇko, 283 Radnicˇki Belgrade, 30, 32, 37, 48, 49, 50, 84, 142 Radnicˇki dom, Mostar, 33, 34 Radnicˇki Kragujevac, 37, 42– 4, 46, 49, 70, 122, 123, 153, 161– 2, 168, 174 see also Mladi Radnik Kragujevac illegal communist activity in, 34 – 5, 37 Radnicˇki Nisˇ, 269, 327n.48 Rajkovic´, Ljubisˇa, 150 Rankovic´, Aleksandar, 50, 52, 127, 135 Rapid Maribor, 16 –17 Rasˇkovic´, Jovan, 236, 238 Razˇnatovic´, Zˇeljko see ‘Arkan’ Real Madrid, 126 Red Army, Mostar, 181, 196– 7, 255, 296 Red Firm, Novi Sad, 166, 167, 179, 180, 181, 196, 200– 1, 251 Red Star Belgrade, 126, 220 see also Marakana Stadium and Arkan, 218, 220, 221– 2, 284– 6 celebrity players of, 123, 127, 155, 187, 203, 210 European Cup (1991), 251– 4, 253 Intercontinental Cup (1991), 281– 6 after liberation, 69, 70 as national symbol, 130, 193, 194, 247, 252, 254, 279, 282 and non-alignment, 109–10, 112, 113 performances, 82, 94, 125, 251– 4, 281– 6 proposed change of identity, 234, 235 relations with Croat clubs, 95 – 6, 98, 116– 18, 120– 1, 164 and Serbian politics, 221, 234, 253– 4

384

THE POLITICS OF FOOTBALL

supporters, 95 – 6, 173, 174– 5, 176, 181, 186, 206, 210, 235, 248 see also Delije outside Serbia, 191– 2, 206, 238, 252 political affiliations of, 186 on Tito’s death, 162, 164, 165 transfer scandals, 83, 132, 340n.5 and wars of 1990s, 283, 284– 6, 289 referees abuse and violence towards, 17, 18, 96, 97, 117, 127, 128, 169, 250, 298 corruption by, 17, 134, 168, 169, 170– 1, 277, 287 impartiality of, 96, 120, 145, 270, 304 and politics, 45, 125, 152, 195 Reic´, Zdravko, 231, 232, 246 ‘reprezentacija’ see Yugoslavia (national team) Republika Srpska see RS Republika Srpska Football Association, 299 Republika Srpska Krajina see RSK Ribar, Lola, 50 Ribicˇic´, Mitja, 171 Rijeka, 87, 89, 91, 92, 94, 126, 133, 157, 159, 160, 185–6, 214, 243, 257, 261, 268, 270 see also Kantrida Stadium; Kvarner Rijeka; Rijeka, NK Rijeka, NK, 156– 9, 243, 264, 268, 270, 276, 277 see also Armada; Kantrida Stadium; Kvarner Rijeka Ristic´, Pavle, 146 Rivetti, Orlando, 263, 274, 276, 277, 280– 1 RNK (Workers’ Football Club) Split, 27 – 8, 273 see also Jug Split; RSˇK Split Robijasˇi, Zenica, 310 Rodin, Janko, 54, 55 Roma communities, 16, 46 Ronkulin, Velimir, 121 Rose, Michael, 291, 292– 3

IN

YUGOSLAVIA

Rous, Stanley, 137 RS (Republika Srpska), 299–301, 302, 305 RSˇK (Workers’ Sport Club) Split, 35– 6, 37, 38, 40, 48 – 9, 53, 55, 57, 69 see also Jug Split; RNK Split RSK (Republika Srpska Krajina), 236, 267, 272, 301– 5 RSZ (Workers’ Sports Union), 34– 5, 40 sˇahovnica, 16, 58, 147, 229, 230– 3, 236, 237, 239, 303– 4 Sˇalja, Kujtim, 203 Sandzˇak, 192 Sarajevo, 16, 25, 26, 38, 44, 75 – 6, 79, 106, 108, 109, 121, 125, 199, 254, 261 see also Sarajevo, FK; Zˇeljeznicˇar Sarajevo siege (1992– 5), 288– 95, 297, 298, 307– 8, 308, 309– 10 Sarajevo, FK, 121, 125, 133–4, 243 Bosnian Serb incarnation, 300– 1, 305 and non-alignment, 110 and siege (1992 – 5), 288– 9, 290, 294, 308, 309 –10 supporters, 173, 181, 192, 199 see also Horde zla wartime tour, 294– 5 Sˇasˇic´, Jefto, 124 SASˇK (Sarajevo Amateur Sport Club) Sarajevo, 26, 44, 75, 76 Savic´evic´, Dejan, 203, 283– 4, 340n.5 scandals, 95 – 8, 151, 153– 5, 168– 72, 184, 281, 340n.5 corruption, 13 – 14, 17, 130, 133– 4, 276, 277 match fixing, 17, 130, 134–5, 151, 169, 170, 171 –2, 276, 281, 287 SDA (Party of Democratic Action), 197, 200 SDG (Serbian Volunteer Guard), 220, 221, 226, 284, 285, 288 see also ‘Arkan’ SDS (Serbian Democratic Party), 204

INDEX Second Federal League, 94, 132– 3, 161, 170– 1, 173, 174, 261, 262– 3, 279, 289, 335n.149 Sˇekularac, Dragoslav ‘Sˇeki’, 123, 128 Sekulic´, Bane, 96 Selassie, Haile, 108, 110 Self-management socialism, 103, 122, 149– 56, 161, 170 Serbia, 1, 306 see also Belgrade; Kosovo; Kragujevac; Nisˇ; Pancˇevo; Sandzˇak; Uzˇice; Valjevo; Vojvodina; Zemun in the Kingdom, 10, 11, 12, 14– 16, 18 –19, 20, 22, 23 – 4, 25 –6 workers’ clubs in, 30, 32, 34 –5, 36 – 7, 38 – 9 in socialist Yugoslavia, 161, 255 and Borovo selo massacre, 244, 246 and disintegration of FSJ, 258, 259– 65 and ‘Kosovo question’, 173– 7, 178, 193– 5 after liberation, 69 – 70, 74, 75, 76, 77, 82, 84, 88, 92 nationalism of, 127, 129– 30, 148, 172, 185, 186– 8, 199, 200, 201, 252– 4 see also Delije; Grobari; Maksimir Stadium recentralisation of, 177, 178– 9 and relations with Croatia, 95– 6, 97 – 100, 118, 145– 6, 149 replacement of communist symbols, 234, 235 rise of Milosˇevic´ see Milosˇevic´, Slobodan in wars of 1990s, 269, 275, 279– 88, 280, 288– 9, 289– 90, 300, 301, 304, 305, 306 in World War II, 42 – 4, 45 – 7, 48, 49 –50, 57 see also Cˇetnik movement Serbian Academy of Arts and Sciences, 177 Serbian Democratic Party see SDS Serbian Renewal Movement see SPO

385

Serbian Volunteer Guard see SDG see also ‘Arkan’ Sˇesˇelj, Vojislav, 186, 205, 234 SFTJ (Association of Football Coaches of Yugoslavia), 113– 14 Shala, Kujtim, 178, 203 Sˇibenik, 49, 276, 277 Sˇibl, Ivan, 144 Simin, Milan, 50 Sinj, 48, 63, 66, 69, 217, 273 Sinosich, Carlo, 156, 158– 9, 160 SK 1913, 46 see also Jugoslavija Belgrade SKH (League of Communists of Croatia) see KPH SKJ (League of Communists of Yugoslavia) see KPJ SKOJ (League of Communist Youth of Yugoslavia), 30, 31, 33, 39, 48, 56 Skopje, 23, 89, 126, 252, 288 see also Vardar Skopje; Rabotnicˇki Skopje; Grad¯anski Skopje; Makedonija Skopje Sˇkoric´, Zlatko, 145– 6 Sladic´, Zlatibor, 267, 303 Slavonia, 98, 244, 246, 251, 260, 262, 265, 269, 270, 276, 277, 284, 285, 302, 356n.18 Sloboda Tuzla, 49, 70, 84, 149, 165 financial and political scandal, 153– 5 supporters, 184, 199 Sloboda Uzˇice, 30, 37, 79, 84, 85, 86– 7 see also Uzˇice Slobodna Dalmacija, 52, 57, 240, 246 Sloga Borovo, 98 Sloga Novi Sad, 76, 86 see also Vojvodina Novi Sad Sloga Pancˇevo, 84 Slovene Homeguard, 47 Slovenia, 11, 18, 33, 82, 130, 244 see also Bezˇigrad Stadium; Ljubljana and disintegration of FSJ, 238, 258– 65 following independence, 270, 280, 286, 305

386

THE POLITICS OF FOOTBALL

football in the Kingdom, 13, 17, 19, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 31 attitude to football, 9, 10, 17 in socialist Yugoslavia, 70, 86, 89, 90, 92, 133 match fixing, 170– 1 in World War II, 47, 139, 322n.53 nationalist politics of, 1980s, 178, 192– 5, 233 ‘Ten-Day War’, 257 Smajlovic´, Misˇo, 134–5 Socialist Alliance of Working People, 176 Sokol, 9, 14, 15, 17, 18, 33, 315n.2 Sˇosˇtaric´, Franjo, 131 Soviet Anti-Fascist Youth Trophy, 87 – 8 Soviet Union, 2, 33, 107, 259 see also Stalin, Joseph club tours to and from, 64, 80 –1, 81 fraternal relations with, 87 – 8 Helsinki Olympics, 104–7 as inspiration, 74, 79, 80, 93 purge of clubs, 75 Red Army, 69, 80, 105, 331n.28 Tito-Stalin Split, 101, 102– 3 Spanish Civil War, 36, 37, 39, 84, 142 Spartak Subotica, 89, 181 spectators disorder featuring in the Kingdom, 17, 18, 24 – 5, 32, 37, 39 in socialist Yugoslavia, 96, 97 – 8, 114– 21, 128, 145– 6, 146– 8, 168– 9, 172– 3, 174, 178, 227, 238– 43, 254, 255, 256, 257, 264 Maksimir Riot, 201, 202, 203, 205– 9 in wars of 1990s, 278, 281, 287, 294, 299 female, 184, 342n.86 media on, 180, 189– 92, 209– 18 multi-ethnic groups, 192, 196– 201

IN

YUGOSLAVIA

in socialist Yugoslavia, 82, 90, 123– 4, 126, 144, 157, 159, 161, 248, 249 sociologists on, 183– 4, 185, 186, 240, 273 soldiers as, 46, 51, 60, 61, 67 support for Tito, 88, 106, 159, 162, 167 supporters’ groups, 167, 179– 92, 182, 195– 6, 238, 273– 4 see also Bad Blue Boys; Delije; Grobari; Maksimir Stadium; Torcida in wars of 1990s, 268, 270, 273, 276, 277, 282, 283– 4, 287, 291– 3, 299, 308 see also paramilitaries in World War II, 44, 46, 51, 60, 63, 70 Sˇpiljevic´, Dragic´, 153 Split, 12, 16, 20, 27, 32, 37 – 8, 47, 49, 67, 125, 133, 228, 233, 247– 8, 254, 268, 270, 277 see also Hajduk Split; Jug Split; RNK Split; RSˇK Split; Stari plac National Liberation Committee of, 54, 55 Split Football Sub-Association, 12, 16, 20 SPO (Serbian Renewal Movement), 186, 187, 214 sponsorship, 122, 271, 276 Sporazum (Agreement), 25, 26, 37, 44 Sport magazin, 210, 212, 214, 216, 217, 224, 234 Sports Company of the Croatian National Guard, 273 Sportske novosti, 189, 209, 211, 213 Sportski zˇurnal, 210, 211, 212, 234 Sprint, 204– 5 Srebrenica, 309, 310, 310 stadiums, 1, 297 see also Bezˇigrad Stadium; Grbavica Stadium; JNA Stadium; Kantrida Stadium; Kosˇevo Stadium; Maksimir Stadium; Marakana Stadium; Poljud Stadium; Stari plac

INDEX as cemeteries, 309–10 construction of, 9 – 10, 14, 17, 86 –7, 109, 309 as detention camps and execution sites, 296, 309 political use of, 46– 7, 92, 101, 113, 141, 162, 164, 167, 173, 178, 185, 188, 190, 255, 256, 274, 293, 301, 303, 304, 307 war damage to, 44, 67, 275, 281, 289, 291 Stalin, Joseph, 2, 80, 84, 102– 3, 106, 107, 235, 326n.34 see also Soviet Union Stanisavljevic´-Milutovac, Raka, 23 Stankovic´, Branko, 117, 120, 140, 332n.76 Stari plac, Split, 67, 115-16, 115 see also Hajduk Split State Security Administration see UDBa Sˇtiglic´, Zˇarko, 121 Sˇtimac, Igor, 231, 237– 8, 247, 248 Stojadinovic´, Milan, 20 –1, 22 Stojkovic´, Dragan, 187, 210, 251 Stojkovic´, Nenad, 159 Subotica, 25, 26, 181, 259– 60, 295, 315n.6 Sˇuker, Davor, 224 Summer Cup of Serbia, 46 Supertifo, 180 supporters see spectators Supreme Football Association of Yugoslavia see VNSJ see also JNS Susˇak, 87, 88 – 9, 91, 92, 97 Susˇic´, Safet, 255 Sutjeska, Battle of, 49, 83 Sutjeska Niksˇic´, 279, 280 Sˇuvar, Stipe, 188 Takacˇ, Artur, 130 Tanjug, 169, 170 Tartalja, Hrvoje, 51 television, 10, 122, 162, 165, 177, 180, 206, 208, 211, 212, 224, 252, 257 Tempo, 178, 189– 90, 198, 210, 211, 213, 215, 224, 252, 282 support for Milosˇevic´, 187– 8

387

Tigers, The see SDG Tito, Josip Broz, 38, 48, 52, 170 abusive chants about, 206 association with football, 42, 50, 51, 81, 83, 84, 92, 105, 106, 123– 4, 137, 161– 2 see also Marshal Tito Cup at, 1945 championship, 88 and, 50th anniversary of FSJ, 137– 8, 138 and Hajduk (NOVJ), 53, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 71, 120, 164– 5 honorary president of Metalac Belgrade, 77 Velezˇ Mostar’s admiration for, 141, 165, 167, 196– 7 and Croatian Spring, 143, 148– 9 death, 162– 5, 166, 167, 177, 232 following liberation, 74, 78 – 9, 87 foreign policy of, 107 –10 see also Tito – Stalin Split international reputation of, 111, 112 in National Liberation Struggle, 48, 50, 51, 52 Tito-Stalin Split, 101, 102– 7, 287 Titograd, 79, 217, 284 see also Buduc´nost Titograd; Podgorica Tomasˇevic´, Kosta, 96, 98 Torcida, Split, 120, 239 1950, 116– 21, 179– 80 1980s revival, 179, 181, 183– 4, 185, 186, 188 –9, 191, 192, 205, 213, 238 during Croatian War (1991 –5), 273– 4 and Poljud flag burning, 236, 238– 43 and removal of communist symbols, 230, 231 Torcida Novi Pazar, 192, 344n.127 Tottenham Hotspur, 173, 274 Traore´, Moussa, 113 Trepcˇa Kosovska Mitrovica, 157, 158 Tresˇnjevka Zagreb, 134 Trieste, 89 – 91, 94, 102, 129, 161, 328n.77 Tripalo, Miko, 82, 127, 130, 143, 147

388

THE POLITICS OF FOOTBALL

Trogir, 49, 127 Trophy Novi List, 268– 70 TsDKA (Central House of the Red Army) Moscow, 80, 326n.34, 331n.28 Tud¯man, Franjo, 188, 195, 203, 204, 206, 210, 220– 1, 226, 232, 249, 259, 304 see also HDZ association with football, 256 and Croatian national team, 256 during Croatian War (1991– 5), 271, 275, 278 and Dinamo Zagreb, 215, 205, 251 name change, 233, 265, 278 at Partizan Belgrade, 124, 129–30 following Borovo massacre, 244– 6 chants featuring, 199, 208, 256, 207, 209 Zvonimir Boban’s support for, 224, 226 Tupurkovski, Vasil, 164, 248 Tuzla, 69, 71, 251, 297, 298 see also Sloboda Tuzla U Nu, 112, 113 UDBa (State Security Administration), 116, 117, 119, 124, 129 UEFA, 137, 173 and recognition of republics, 259, 260– 1, 262, 264, 278– 9, 281 suspension of FSJ, 290 treatment of ‘Serbian’ clubs, 282– 3, 300 ´ jvide´ki AC, Novi Sad, 72, 73, U 76, 77 Union of First Federal League Football Clubs, 146, 148, 151, 262 Unione Sportiva Fiumana, Rijeka, 87 Unione Sportiva Operaia, Pula, 91 United States of America, 60, 160, 256 UNPROFOR (UN Protection Force), 290, 291– 4, 297, 299 USAOH (United League of Anti-fascist Youth of Croatia), 70 USAOJ (United League of Antifascist Youth of Yugoslavia), 52 USSR see Soviet Union

IN

YUGOSLAVIA

Ustasˇa regime, 44 – 5, 70, 74 see also NDH chants featuring, 98, 128, 189, 208, 238 communists target ‘Ustasˇa’ clubs and players, 56, 57 – 8, 76, 78, 118, 119 politicised memory of, 204, 220– 1, 226, 259, 263, 264, 269, 285 term used as insult, 98, 128, 189, 220– 1, 229, 256 within football, 45, 48, 50, 70, 78, 119 Uzˇice, 30, 36 – 7, 48, 78, 86 – 7 see also Sloboda Uzˇice Val Kasˇtel, 249 Valjevo, 50 Vardar Skopje, 125, 126, 127–8, 134, 172, 281 Vasiljkovic´, Dragan, 285 Vecˇernje novosti, 177, 211 Vedrisˇ, Mladen, 258, 259– 60, 261, 272, 273 Velebit Benkovac, 237, 249, 251 Velezˇ Mostar, 84, 160, 283, 309 see also Red Army admiration for Tito, 165, 166– 7, 196– 7, 238 and Bosnian War, 288, 295–6 communist activity in, 30, 33, 34, 39, 40, 140– 1 and National Liberation Struggle, 49, 166– 7 and non-alignment, 113 self-management of, 152– 3 and socialist Yugoslav identity, 281, 295– 6 Velika Srbija Belgrade, 15 see also Jugoslavija Belgrade Victoria Zemun, 44 Vidjak, Branko, 119 Vis, 42, 43, 52, 55, 62 Vitez Zemun, 46 Vllasi, Azem, 178, 193, 194, 344n.135 VNSJ (Supreme Football Association of Yugoslavia), 26 see also JNS

INDEX Vojvodina, 50, 69, 74, 82, 88, 132, 139, 146, 177, 178, 199, 200– 1 see also Novi Sad; Subotica; Zrenjanin Vojvodina Football Committee, 132 Vojvodina Novi Sad, 125, 134, 166, 167, 177, 180, 201 see also Karad¯ord¯e Stadium; Sloga Novi Sad; Red Firm in the Kingdom, 14 – 15, 39 following liberation, 76, 77, 79 in World War II, 46, 50 ‘voluntary’ youth brigades, 85 – 6 Vranican, Borka, 119, 120 Vrcan, Srd¯an, 233 Vrdoljak, Ante, 242, 256 Vukadinovic´, Ljubomir, 5, 46 Vukas, Benard, 127, 303 Vukmanovic´-Tempo, Svetozar, 38 – 9, 83 Vukovar, 98, 252, 270, 273, 275, 281, 284, 356n.18 Borovo selo massacre, 244– 6, 248, 249 Vukovic´, Sˇpiro, 262 Vultures, Banja Luka, 197– 8, 200 War, football in see Croatia; Bosnia & Hercegovina; World War II Wiederkehr, Gustav, 137 women’s football, 159–60 women’s supporters’ groups, 184 workers’ organisations, in the Kingdom, 27 –33, 34 –5, 40 Workers’ Sports Union see RSZ World Cup, 107, 116, 179– 80, 160– 1 1930, 20, 39 1962, 107, 123 1990, 254– 5 World War I, 11 World War II, 2, 27, 40 – 1, 42, 74 see also Nazi Germany football in annexed territories, 46 – 7 NDH, 44, 45, 48, 321n.18 ‘Serbian residual state’, 45 – 6 liberation and football, 69 – 71

389 National Liberation Struggle Hajduk NOVJ see Hajduk Split partisan football, 50 – 2, 52 – 3 workers’ clubs and footballers in, 49 – 50

Yugoslav Cup, 290 see also Marshal Tito Cup Yugoslav Football Association see JNS Yugoslav People’s Army see JNA Yugoslav People’s Army Stadium, Belgrade see JNA Stadium Yugoslav Physical Culture Committee, 75, 88 Yugoslavia (national team) of the Kingdom, 12, 20, 21, 24, 38, 39, 50 of socialist Yugoslavia, 81 – 2, 101, 107, 118, 140, 155, 160– 1, 203, 258, 282 European Championships 1992, 286– 7, 290 Helsinki Olympics 1952, 102, 104– 7 non-alignment, 108, 109, 110– 12 World Cup 1990, 254– 6 World Youth Championship 1987, 202–3 Yugoslav Socialist Patriotism, 7, 129, 167, 197– 8 Zadar, 94, 277 Zagreb see also Borac Zagreb; Concordia Zagreb; Dinamo Zagreb; Grad¯anski Zagreb; HASˇK Zagreb; Lokomotiva Zagreb; Metalac Zagreb; Zagreb, NK in Croatian War (1991 –5), 268, 272, 273, 278, 307 in the Kingdom, 10, 11, 12, 13, 16 – 7, 18, 38 relocation of JNS from, 19 – 20, 22 and restructure of the JNS, 22 – 4, 25 workers’ clubs in, 30 – 1, 36, 49

390

THE POLITICS OF FOOTBALL

in National Liberation Struggle, 49, 140, 141 in NDH, 44, 50, 55, 57, 70, 140 in socialist Yugoslavia, 70, 78, 80, 88 –9, 97 –8, 116, 118, 119, 133, 134, 137, 142– 4 in Croatian Spring, 142– 5, 149 relations with Belgrade, 77, 96, 98 – 9, 144, 145, 211 spectators in, 97 – 8, 172, 183, 184, 186, 189 see also Bad Blue Boys Yugoslav national team reception in, 255, 256 Zagreb, NK, 128, 307 Zagreb Football Association see ZNS Zagreb Football Sub-Association see ZNP Zajec, Vladimir, 260 Zambata, Slaven, 146 ZAVNOH (Council for the National Liberation of Croatia), 54, 67 Zebec, Branko, 132, 146 Zecˇevic´, Konstantin, 139

IN

YUGOSLAVIA

Zekic´, Milosˇ, 124 Zˇeljeznicˇar Nisˇ, 1, 46, 84, 92, 321n.20, 327n.48 Zˇeljeznicˇar Sarajevo, 49, 163, 181, 285, 307 see also Maniacs, The ‘Planinic´ Affair’, 134– 5 and siege (1992 – 5), 288– 9, 290– 1, 291, 307– 8 Bosnian Serb incarnation, 300– 1, 305 Zeljkovic´, Branislav, 176 Zemun, 44, 46, 215, 243 Zenica, 123, 250, 296– 7, 298– 9, 310 ZNG (Croatian National Guard), 273 ZNP (Zagreb Football Sub-Association), 12, 19, 21–4, 26 ZNS (Zagreb Football Association), 142, 143, 144, 146 Zrenjanin (Petrovgrad), 69, 181, 187 Zrinjski Mostar, 44, 296 Zˇuvela, Vjenceslav, 121 Zˇujovic´, Sreten ‘Crni’, 51 Zˇujovic´, Zoran, 50