For those of us of a certain age, the term ‘pitch invasion’ conjures images of 1980s football hooliganism: Millwall supporters clashing fiercely with neighbouring London clubs; mounted bobbies on horses galloping around and tearing up the pitch in a desperate effort to stop the rioters from tearing up the stadium.
A starting point in the history of hooliganism occurred 50 years ago when in April 1974 Denis Law’s backheel for Manchester City contributed to Manchester United’s relegation. A pitch invasion followed. The match was abandoned but the score stood and down United would go.
A faction within the club’s support base – a Red Army – decided that United’s reputation could only be restored by fighting (literally) their way out of the Second Division.
A particularly ferocious riot took place in Cardiff in August 1974 and from then on fences and pens began to be erected within the football grounds of England. For the next decade or so hooliganism stalked the English game both at home and abroad.
In May 1985, the same day as the Bradford fire disaster, Brimingham and Leeds fans clashed at an end of season game at St Andrews. Hundreds were injured and a teenage boy, Ian Hambridge, died when a wall collapsed on him as he sheltered from the rioters. The judge overseeing the subsequent inquiry compared it all to the Battle of Agincourt.
Later that month, a wall collapsed in the then decrepit Heysel Stadium in Brussels during the European Cup final between Liverpool and Juventus. Thirty-nine, mainly Juventus, fans died when, under attack and fleeing for safety, a wall collapsed.
In the aftermath, English teams were banned from Europe and Thatcher’s government reinforced football-specific legislation. Although the truth of Hillsborough lay not, of course, in hooliganism; the reinforced pens and fences of Sheffield, as with the negligence of the police on the day, contributed to the loss of 97 lives.
The Taylor report that followed changed the way England watched football. There was a push for all-seater stadiums. Ironically, the first one to be purpose-built under the Taylor regulations was Milwall’s New Den.
Hooliganism still flickers in English football – the Wembley final at Euro 2020 coming very close to disaster. By and large it is now well policed and ticketed. Safe standing areas are returning. The enthusiasm to get on the pitch is often now good-natured following a promotion or an escape from relegation.
There can still be an edge. Last year when several pitch invasions marred the play-offs in the Championship, the Professional Footballers Association sought legal advice as to whether players could use reasonable force to defend themselves if attacked.
In late 2022, the Sheffield United striker Oli McBurnie was cleared of assault after an allegation that he had stamped on a pitch-invading fan. United had just lost out to Nottingham Forest on penalties and although the judge described McBurnie as having a “stern resting face”, he was not convicted.
Pitch invasions have occurred in the GAA in recent months. Cork fans thoroughly enjoyed their recent win over Limerick. Offaly U20 hurlers are now so good that their fans invaded the pitch twice on winning Leinster.
Offaly hurling supporters are of course credited with the world’s first ever passive aggressive pitch invasion when in 1998 they sat down on the Croke Park pitch to stand up for the right to a semi-final replay against Clare. They won in 1998 and if they win the U20 All-Ireland on Saturday, a phalanx of Spartans not to mind stewards may be needed, though it is hoped that no one will trip on a divot at Nowlan Park and join Springsteen on the sidelines.
With any crowd there is a risk and in recent times the GAA has had to settle insurance and occupier liability claims.
The law recognises however that as a supporter you must take a certain amount of personal responsibility. You generally have a choice as to whether you wish to go onto the pitch after the game and if you do, sometimes the risk should lie with you. If you are unreasonably exposed to injury by poor stewarding or poor stadium design, then liability may fall on the sporting organisation.
An increasingly annoying ‘invader’ on GAA pitches recently is the ‘embibbed’ maor foirne, that is a team’s hurley carrier. Their repertoire seems to consist of engaging in a Punch and Judy routine with their opposite number; racing onto the field to replace a broken hurley as if supplying ammo to the front; or, best of all, melodramatically pulling a flag from the ground if their team get a sideline cut 15 meters within the vicinity.
Occasionally, the hurley carrier creates such a fuss that the referee must, like a weary parent with an over-sugared child at a party, send them to squat on the naughty step. A yellow card is flashed – one of those pointless GAA disciplinary routines that everyone knows is just for show; time is wasted.
The best way to stop this charade is to take a strict liability approach: any disturbance and the carrier is banned to the stand, and the players must collect their own hurleys and water. At the next training session, the players will quickly tell the carrier exactly what they think.
More seriously, the most vulnerable person at the final whistle of the game is the person holding that whistle. We do not know what Davy Fitzgerald said to Liam Gordon after the recent Clare v Waterford game, though it looks like he will be disciplined for it; what we do know is that Gordon was surrounded by officials. In club matches, referees are often on their own.
In May last year a Wexford mentor was jailed for assaulting a referee after a junior football game. The mentor’s clenched fist struck the referee from behind. The vast majority of GAA people who ‘invade’ a pitch after a game open their palm to slap a player on the back or to hold their child’s hand as they seek a hero’s autograph.
The psychology of crowds is now a branch of social psychology, but you do not need much insight to know that what happened in Wexford last year was nothing more than a cowardly act.
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