Very brief report: One of the best days out I've had. Despite the sub-zero temperatures, the atmosphere in the ground was nothing short of electric. Chaos reigned at certain points in the game, but order was generally maintained just enough to hold a footbal match.
Man of the match for me was the Partisan player who celebrated the second goal by stealing the corner flag and hurling it into his own fans, then running around with a flare that had been thrown onto the pitch. Amazing. At the final whistle (which signalled an impressive win by the visitors) the whole Partisan team ran to their fans, threw their shirts and shorts at their fans, then posed for team photos in their underpants.
Both sets of fans, and particularly Red Star's Delija, are trully impressive. Not just for the massive noise levels, flares, bangers and other fireworks, but also for the huge amount of organisation and discipline that must go into their antics. Dozens of banners are unfurled, one at a time (obscuring the view of about half of them, in some cases), held aloft for long enough for everyone to read them, then folded away for next week. The Delija produce a Partisan banner and set it alight. Suddenly everyone is holding a scarf aloft then, as one, put them away. The Partisan boys link arms and turn their backs to the crowd. The Deliga produce a banner bearing the names of all the European teams they've beaten (up?) It's really really impressive to see.
The walk away from the ground was a little more traumatic, especially when we found ourselves in the middle of a bit of good-natured rock-throwing. It was all over in a couple of minutes and the very well-equipped riot police seemed to get on top of things quite quickly.
The list of friends of FAC383 has grown on this trip - Red Star Marketing treated us like lords; insisting on giving us expensive scotch at 11am, giving us the tour of the ground and trophy room and getting us into the sold-out basketball game in the evening (which Red Star won). Bane the photographer was an absolute star, despite making an awful job of putting a brave face on the absolutely disasterous football result ("Colin, I feel like shit!"). Away from the football, we fell into the company of a great crowd of lads in a local bar who took us to a nightclub that we would never have found and certinaly wouldn't have got into and made us feel very safe and welcome until the early hours. Twice.
Special Viking mentions: Gordy for not remembering how he got his breakfast (as he was still eating it), Roy for always finishing his breakfast and anyone who made it to the airport in time for this morning's flights. Oh, and me for the worst bank job in history.
Me and the Glasgow lads have one more day in Belgrade, and intend to spend it very quietly. I've caught a nasty hangover and will not be drinking again. Ever.
So, who's coming next year?