If
25-odd years ago you’d asked what my favourite book was, with complete
sincerity I would have told you this: The
Football Grounds of Europe by Simon Inglis. My reading then was more
usually a means to an end – school work, which bored me – but this book was
something else: it satisfied both my appetite for sport (football in the main)
and a passing interest in architecture.
A
substantial hard-backed tome, it covers in great detail the stadia selected, built
or modified for the 1990 World Cup, held in Italy, and many more besides (but
not British football grounds – Mr Inglis had written a separate book on that
subject a few years before). No mere glossary, the history, architectural
detail, and cultural and social relevance – where it applies – are all explored,
and there is substantial photographic coverage too. It really is a wonderful
thing, and its author invoked great jealously in me. As research, I do believe
Mr Inglis toured Europe extensively, making notes, taking pictures, asking
questions. He would go on to write a column for World Soccer magazine, and he now stewards a website called Played in Britain that concerns itself
with chronicling, and where possible preserving, sporting sites of historical
and cultural significance and interest – these aren’t the sort of jobs you’ll
find advertised anywhere much.
My interest in stadia persists and I make a point of journeying to them when I travel abroad: am
often thwarted by geographical limitations, time constraints, and the lack of
interest on the part of whoever accompanies me. I should try harder, but many a
ground can be found on the periphery of its host, involving convoluted and time
consuming journeys to reach them, although I have travelled farther for less.
Other more normative and diminutive stadia have been chanced upon: the Stadio Artemio
Franchi in Siena, and Prague’s FK Viktoria Stadion for instance. Where I have
made the effort I’ve only sometimes gained entrance, normally at football
grounds deemed worthy of being granted entrance to: Barcelona’s Nou Camp, Madrid’s
Santiago Bernabéu, Valencia’s Estadio Mestalla. (Does this say more about the
nature of Spanish football or my personal touring habits?). With others I’ve
had to make do with inspecting their exterior, with varying degrees of
satisfaction: Bulgaria’s Vasil Levski National Stadium is barely discernible as
being such; the San Siro in Milan could be little else; Istanbul’s Şükrü
Saracoğlu Stadium appears like an industrial building of the sort found near
motorways and airports. The fact of the matter is that a lot of football
grounds aren’t very pretty, and were never intended to be. That is not to say they
don’t have character or charm, but sometimes it can be hard to
tell from the outside. Like I said, I’ve not often gained entrance to find out
either way.
