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ULTRAS LEADER

By Adam Parsons, Europe correspondent

It's one of the biggest games in the Italian football season and hundreds of Inter Milan "ultras" are ready to fight.

There are no rules except one: you can use fists, rocks, knives but not guns, says Marco Ferdico, the leader of a diehard group of supporters which follows Inter home and away.

The essence of being an ultra, he says, is "being willing to die for each other".

CELEBRITY STATUS

Among Inter's ultras, Marco is as much a celebrity as any of the millionaire players on the pitch.

He shakes hands with fans outside the Stadio Olimpico, where the club is playing fellow Italian giant AS Roma. He kisses one man on the cheek and poses for a selfie with another.

The 38-year-old is an imposing figure. On either side of his neck he has tattoos of Al Pacino - one depicting Scarface; the other from Carlito's Way. On his face, a small teardrop tattoo, with the word "guilty" underneath it.

Marco wears a rain jacket marked with the insignia of "Curva Nord" - the name of his ultra group. Other fans have the same insignia on their clothes or in their tattoos.

"It's not good weather for fighting," Marco says as the rain pours down in Rome.

"If we do have a fight, it won't be here anyway. There are too many cameras, too many police. It'll be a kilometre from the ground.

"Roma-Inter is the sort of game that gets a lot of attention from the police."

Marco pulls out his phone to play a video of a violent confrontation at Inter's home stadium, the San Siro, the previous weekend. The ultras were trying to attack rivals from Juventus but were stopped by police.

Fifty people were detained during that incident. Almost all of them have now received banning orders, known as DASPOs, that stop them going to matches.

Fighting and football - the two sides to the ultras' coin. But it is not just Italy that is witnessing a surge in violence.

RISING VIOLENCE

Ultras are often linked to extreme fighting, racism and organised crime - and they're being blamed for a surge in violence across Europe's football grounds.

Two Brighton fans were stabbed in the Italian capital on Thursday after being attacked by a group of masked men ahead of the club's Europa League match against Roma.

But violence is also happening across the continent - in France, Greece, Turkey, Denmark, Poland and beyond.

In France, there were more than 600 arrests at Ligue 1 and Ligue 2 matches last season - a 94% increase on the previous year, according to the nation's anti-hooligan body, the DNLH.

And in the UK, the number of arrests at football matches in England and Wales reached a nine-year high in 2022-23, with a total of 2,264, according to Home Office figures.

But it is in Italy that the idea of the ultra seems most deeply embedded into both sports and society.

Marco liaises with Inter Milan club officials and the police on behalf of fans. Yet this is also the man who places himself at the centre of violent confrontations - the very things that the Italian police are so intent on stopping.

Marco says the ultras movement is coming back after a low period. "We are in a good way," he adds.

As he approaches the turnstile, the crowds part and it's opened to let him through. Presumably he has a ticket but even here in Rome, he doesn't appear to need it.

At the match, bottles are smashed and the ultras seek to intimidate but thanks to a huge police presence, clashes between rival fans are avoided.

FIGHT CLUB

The day after the match - which Inter won 4-2 - Marco returns to his boxing club on the outskirts of Milan, where his regulars include ultras who want to learn how to fight.

For Marco, the battle lines are clear - and it's about territory. "It's like religion," he says. "This is our city. We don't like you and we don't want to see you if you come."

But Marco insists there is a difference between ultras and football hooligans.

"We are ultras. We are not hooligans," he says. "Hooligans are more eastern, like Russian and Polish... they have got hooligans' mentality.

"In the park, out of the stadium... they have fighting. Real fighting. Ultras is a little bit different... you find the supporters who like to fight."

The door to the fight club swings open and in comes a towering, broad-chested man who approaches the boxing ring. This is Andrea, Marco's deputy - somebody he calls his "minister of war".

Except Andrea doesn't go to matches now because he's serving an 18-year banning order from all football stadiums.

He's not even allowed into the city of Milan so has to live in the suburbs. To all intents, he's been banished from both club and city.

He says his ban was the result of a litany of violence - accidentally punching a policeman, unapologetic fighting and then deliberately breaking the leg of a rival fan.

"Honestly, maybe it would have been better for me not to go and do that," he says. "I acted too hastily. I screwed up because now I cannot enter Milan and I cannot watch matches at the stadium. I can't be with my brothers."

The remorse is that he is missing life with the Curva Nord ultras. There is no apology for the people he hurt.

DONNY THE ULTRA

In a backstreet bar not far from a police station, Donny looks emotional as he describes his life as an ultra.

"It is like going to war. It's the best," he says.

"There will be consequences, but that's normal. You take responsibility for what you do."

"I have always been on the frontline, because I like fighting. The adrenaline rushes up. There's no hiding it," he says.

He received his first banning order after a series of conflicts at AS Roma. He obeyed it for one match, then spent a year pushing his way into the ground at every game.

But, inevitably, one day he was stopped and his past caught up with him.

His latest banning order is more onerous - obliging him to sign in at the police station just before the game, and then again just after.

Donny has another trial looming and is expecting to be banned from all stadiums for another five years. "But I tell you, I'll never regret what I did," he says. "I would do everything I did again."

Marco acknowledges many ultras - who are often from poorer backgrounds - have committed offences but denies there is a link to organised crime.

"There are people who have criminal records - even many of them - but these do not form a criminal organisation," he says.

"We are people who have had a difficult life on the streets, which has led us to make mistakes throughout life.

"As far as my Curva is concerned, I absolutely dissociate myself from organised crime."

But police inspector Carmine Massarelli says there is "definitely a common thread" between ultra groups and organised crime.

"There tends to be a direct line between the ultras, which serves the criminal organisations and therefore their ability to extend their power over the territory through all illicit activities, such as drugs and extortion," he adds.

"This is because the ultras fans essentially dominate the territory through violent actions."

RACIST ABUSE

It isn't just about violence for some ultras - they are also linked to racism.

Racist incidents have blighted Italian football for many years. There were 130 cases of discrimination recorded at matches last season - 50% of which were linked to racism, according to the country's interior ministry.

AC Milan's players walked off the pitch during a match in January after goalkeeper Mike Maignan was racially abused by Udinese fans.

Joseph Minala can empathise. Originally from Cameroon, he spent a decade playing professional football in Italy.

He has experienced racism on and off the pitch - Minala is presently taking legal action against a coach for comments made on social media.

Minala admits it's difficult to pay attention to what's happening on the pitch when racist abuse is being shouted from the stands because football no longer seems "the important thing".

"Your fellow players hear it and try to comfort you, but it's a mental challenge - and it's not nice," he says.

He was involved in a game that was stopped because of abuse. "The fans of the other team took it out on me," he says.

"I had scored a goal, we'd won the game and so I had objects thrown at me. The police had to come and pick us up, escort us and take us away from the stadium.

"We are in 2024. It is absurd that we are still talking about these topics today. People need to be educated.

"But people come to the stadium to let off steam. It has nothing to do with the world of football. In my opinion, it will never end."

CHALLENGING RACISM

One ultra tries to justify why he hurls racist abuse from the stands. He doesn't want to use his real name, or say which team he supports, but says he has spent two decades as an ultra.

"Nine out of 10 times, it's done to disorientate the opponent," he says. "Most people don't use racist insults because they believe those things - but there are those who do actually think that way."

Asked whether he's ever used racist abuse to upset an opponent, he replies after a pause: "Yes. Yes, it happened."

"And how do you feel about doing that?", I ask.

"At that moment, I thought it was normal, that it was part of the way of doing things," he says.

He says things have changed now and insists he is not a racist. But asked if he has any regrets, he replies: "No," with a shrug. "Repentance is not part of the way I live life."

Meanwhile, Marco believes the ultras "definitely have to do something" to stop the incidents of racism.

"But it's not easy," he adds. "I can try to stop it if I see somebody doing something wrong. But it's not just about me. It's about me and my side, and our Curva Nord."

POLICE SURVEILLANCE

Carmine Massarelli often looks like the football fans he's surrounded by.

At our first meeting, he is wearing jeans, a jacket and trainers - the only clue that he's not at the ground to watch the game is the earpiece that's discreetly hidden away - and the fact he has a parking space so near to the stadium.

Now dressed in uniform, the inspector in Rome's elite police unit is tasked with overseeing the ultras.

In a surveillance operations room in the Italian capital's police headquarters, his team can monitor what's happening at the football ground.

Footage filmed from a helicopter shows images of people amassing in herds - and heavy walls of police splitting up the groups.

Material filmed on the ground shows bottles and rocks hurled at officers. Tear gas, water cannon and other riot paraphernalia are used in return.

A large group dressed in black gather beneath a bridge.

"How dangerous are some of these people?", I ask.

"The ultras - the hard core - in that passage, they are very dangerous," says Carmine.

He adds: "The number is important because we are talking about 500, maybe even 600 people who are packed together, and they are determined to commit violence."

Carmine says one of his colleagues ended up in hospital last year after being hit in the head by a glass bottle. And he says the trouble is getting worse.

"We have noticed that since last year there has been a resurgence in the violent attitude of ultras fans," the inspector says.

BANNING ORDERS

The answer is often to impose a banning order. There are now more than 6,300 people in Italy who are restricted by a DASPO - a number that is rising rapidly.

Some 40% of those orders were issued in 2023 alone - an increase of nearly 70% on the number given out in the previous year.

There's also been an increase in the number of injuries among bystanders, police officers, stadium staff and fans.

Carmine says some of the fighting is "a social phenomenon", a habit passed through generations. Others, he believes, are using violence to get rid of frustration and anger that built up during the COVID pandemic.

But there are also enduring links to extremism, including organised far-right groups. The clearest example of this is Lazio, whose ultras are "notorious for being ideologically aligned to the extreme right and so they often act on a racist basis", says Carmine.

Banning orders help but the police inspector knows there is a glaring problem. "If the ultras groups were to organise hostile action far from the stadium, the DASPO clearly doesn't reach those places," he says.

None of the ultras we spoke to regretted taking part in violence. It feels like a rite that those involved never back down.

That, perhaps, is the key to being an ultra - the visceral sense of camaraderie that is at its menacing core. Because if people don't feel they're doing anything wrong, how do you make them stop?