I approached Fraser MacDonald as to whether he could write an article for the CDB's Section, relating to his travels to Serbia.
I'm sure all who read what follows, will agree, it sounds like a trip we should all be envious of.
One year ago, a man named Ivano Bonetti arrived at Dens Park and promised to make Dundee the third force in Scottish football within 3 years. Even then, before any new signings had been made, I knew that a return to European football was around the corner for Dundee FC. I had never seen the Dees play abroad, but had travelled to Euro 92, Euro 96 and France 98 to watch Scotland, and decided that I would follow Dundee wherever their European adventure took them.
Of course, when I told myself this, I did not expect us to be playing in war-torn Smederevo, but my mind was made up. No foreign office warnings, alarming press coverage or jibes about “nice knowing you” from the boys in Bert’s Bar could sway me from my course.
Getting there was easier said than done, though. First the club were going to charter a plane, then they weren’t. Although many of the staff at Dens Park and Global Travel were helpful, they didn’t actually have that much information to give. It was a posting on the Dundee website, for example, which informed me that a visa was required. And it was a visit to the Dundee Social Club after the first leg which put me in touch with three of the Smederevo Eight. Numerous phone calls and emails between myself and Allan Kettles of Dees Down South, who had previously travelled with me to such far flung destinations as Kidderminster, Southport and Grimsby, led to some semblance of a plan of action.
Firstly, book a flight. By some stroke of fate, rather than design, all eight fans who travelled independently to Belgrade booked the same flights with British Airways. Secondly, the hotel – you need proof of accommodation to get a visa. Dees Down South member Milan Rasevic (yes, he lives in Belgrade) recommended the Park Hotel, so a few calls and faxes later, I was ready to brave the bureaucracy of the Cyprus High Commission (Yugoslav Interests Section). Allan had already obtained application forms, so I just had to send off and hope my passport came back, and duly stamped, within the next two weeks.
It took them just 3 days. Not many people want to go to Serbia, it seems. But I was going…
Seven Dundee fans on a plane might sound like a rowdy proposition, but the early hour and the lack of beer for in-flight breakfast kept us sober until we got in to Gatwick. Allan would be joining us in around an hour, at 9am, so we headed for the JD Wetherspoons and tucked into that traditional English breakfast of bacon, toast and Stella Artois. By my reasoning, I’d been up since 4 o’clock, so it was actually lunchtime and a pint or two was perfectly acceptable, in between stocking up in the airport shops for US Dollars (you need a few different currencies to survive in Serbia) and the last Argentina top on sale in the sports store.
Our sesh was rudely interrupted by the first fire alarm I’ve ever experienced at an airport. We were ushered outside, worried that we might miss Allan and that someone would drink our beers. We did cheer up when we found the fire assembly point was at the back of the pub, but unfortunately all the beer barrels lying around were empty. However, we needn’t have worried and were soon united with Allan and on our way to Belgrade (on a surprisingly full flight). “Beer!” cried an impatient Colin at the stewardess, as we taxied down the runway.
I won’t bore you with the in-flight details, as they were mostly alcoholic in nature. When we got to Belgrade, we were reminded that passengers from the UK are still condsidered a Foot and Mouth risk. Not only did we have to step through disenfectant, but wash our hands as well. I tried to explain that we were not St Johnstone fans, but it didn’t seem to make any difference.
As our taxi drove into Belgrade, the driver would cheerily point out the window from time to time and attract our attention: “NATO Bomb!” What were we getting ourselves into? In fact, the bombing seems to have been very accurate. Every building which was damaged was apparently an army or police building, and those next door were left unscathed. There didn’t seem to be any resentment towards us for the actions of the NATO forces, and we were soon in our respective hotels. Due to the lack of official coordination by Dundee FC, we had booked in to three different hotels, but agreed to meet at the Intercontinental at 5 o’clock to welcome the players and perhaps find out such minor details as where and when the match was taking place, and whether we would need tickets.
The Intercontinental Hotel is in New Belgrade, and is famous for being the scene of the murder of Arkan, the one time warlord and friend of Giovanni di Stefano. This was where the official Dundee FC party were based, and as we waited for their coach to arrive, we were alarmed to notice a sign in reception asking guests to deposit their firearms with the staff for safe keeping. Presently the team coach arrived and we greeted Ivano, Barry and the rest of the boys. Strangely, though, the Social Club boys didn’t appear – something to do with a lack of travellers cheques facilities, apparently. Then, as the team headed off to FK Obilic’s ground for an evening training session, we joined the board, staff, friends and journalists in the hotel bar for a few beers. Unlike the rest of Belgrade, this hotel charged western-style prices for its alcohol, so after a few rounds we independent travellers made our way to the Three Carrots, the Irish pub which Allan and I had discovered that afternoon. We were made most welcome by the locals, and this was quickly established as our home from home in Serbia.
We went out to explore Belgrade and quickly became concerned that the players might be in trouble tomorrow if the temperature of around 30°C continued. Belgrade is a pleasant city, and very few buildings show evidence of the recent war. We spotted a large church dome in the distance, and headed that way, noticing on the way a car license plate bearing the words “Sa-ra Sport.” A good omen? Better, certainly, than the only violence we experienced as an elderly beggar woman took exception to our refusal to give her money and gave me a thump on the back – in a church courtyard of all places!
Unlike the old USSR, Serbia has plentiful stocks of local and foreign goods in its shops, although some are piled high behind counters and not all the branded goods are genuine. In fact, it’s really just a few decades behind us, with most shops offering very specialised produce – such as the shop which sells and repairs irons. There are also many street stalls, from the very useful pirate CD stalls at £1 a time, to the not so useful woman who sells pants outside a restaurant for 20p each!
Travel around Belgrade is quick and cheap – taxi meters start at 14p and a trip across town costs around 65p. Figuring out what things cost was easy once we had worked out that 100 dinars equals £1. Not so easy was the fact that shops accept deutschmarks and give change in dinars, or if you’re short of exact money, might ask for a combination of both – 20 marks and 120 dinars please! And to further confuse matters, the hotels only accept dollars.
After lunch, as Allan and I strolled along the street, two young men at a pavement café called out to us. “Hey, Dundee! Come, sit with us. Have a beer!” Yes, our tops had given us away. Now, the Sartid game was no big event in Belgrade – of about as much significance as a Forfar match would be in Glasgow. But as we sat with our new friends Sasha and Martin, they were keen to show us how much they knew about Scottish football. With them, quite by chance, they had an Aberdeen season ticket application form, a sheet of Celtic players’ signatures, and Panini SPL stickers featuring Billy Dodds and Andy Dow among others!
In fact, most of the locals know a lot about Scottish football. I mean, I don’t know who’s sixth in the Yugoslav league, but these guys regularly bet on Scottish third division games! They knew who Forfar and Brechin were, and were keen to talk to us and buy us beers.
Dees Down South sponsor the Dundee U-15 team, and Allan was keen to donate a set of strips to a local youth team in a gesture of international amity which might also get DDS some good publicity. We asked if our new friends could help us find a home for the 17 tops, shorts and socks which Allan had brought over. It turned out that Sasha and Martin, and Zoran, who soon joined us, all worked for the local newspaper agency and played in a football team called Borba (which means “fight”). We offered them the kit, and to be honest, they couldn’t believe it – especially when we explained that all we wanted in exchange was some publicity. Borba FC were already in the quarter finals of the local 64-team league, and if they got to the final, they promised to wear their strips on the front page of the newspaper. We duly arranged to meet them at six o’clock at Obilic’s ground to present the strips, but had a hard time convincing them we were genuine!
Now Obilic, you may remember, were owned by Arkan. Rising from lower division obscurity, they ploughed cash into the team and stadium, and were crowned Yugoslav champions in 1997-98. I know, because the banner outside the ground still proudly tells all passers by! We planned to meet here with Borba and watch Dundee train, but when we arrived we were told by the official at the main entrance that they were training in Smederevo tonight. “Could we have a look around then?” “Yes, sure,” he said.
But a minute or two later, he had a change of heart. We were looking at the pitch and impressive new stands, and Mr Obilic came rushing out – “no photos!” We weren’t taking any, but he seemed very worried. He left us alone again, and we decided to visit the museum indicated by a sign on the main stand / office block. No sooner had we entered a small room filled with penants and trophies was our friend back, shouting “come out, it’s closed.” We didn’t think we were doing any harm, just looking around, but the official soon demanded to see our passports! We refused, but Allan did show a Dees Down South membership card as proof of ID! This was quite the opposite of the warm welcome the Ellenbank boys had received at Sartid that day, we learned, but we made our way outside and were met by the delighted Borba players, who still could hardly believe that we hadn’t been having them on.
At a nearby bar, we shared more beer and pizza, and presented Sasha and Martin with their new white Dundee shirts, and Zoran with his DFC goalkeeper’s jersey, plus the rest of the kit. We would see more of these guys later, but left them after getting some photos for the Dees Down South website. Now OK, we didn’t present them with a new car like the Capital Dark Blues gave Fab Cab, but then no-one in Belgrade has a new car.
Later that night, we joined Billy, Colin and Bruce in the Irish pub. They had done a good job on the décor, with the bar now sporting a large Dundee / Argentina / Italy / Scotland / Spain flag, and the loudspeakers blaring out the refrains of “The New Johnny Scobie!” It was here that we met Ivan, who quickly became a Dundee fan, with Hydro Electric top and all, and made friends with more of the locals and even a TV crew. With a round of beers costing just over two pounds, this was a great place to spend out evenings. Colin, however, made other plans later that evening, while Paul, Neil and Alan were again conspicuous by their absence. Not that we really noticed very much by 2am…