STADIA: ESTADIO SAN MAMES, BILBAO

In 1986, the Everton manager Howard Kendall was earmarked as a potential replacement for Terry Venables, who was at the time considering his position in the wake of Barcelona’s defeat to Steaua București in the European Cup final. Ultimately Venables decided to stay put, and in an ironic twist then paid Everton £2.8 million for the services of their star striker, Gary Lineker. The following season Kendall won a second First Division championship with Everton, after which Athletic Bilbao sent a delegation over to Liverpool to offer him a job. With English clubs banned from competing in Europe for the foreseeable future, the lure of managing abroad was too much for him to resist.

It is difficult, though not impossible, to imagine Kendall holding court at Camp Nou, but Estadio San Mamés seems his more natural habitat. It was, in many ways, comparable to Goodison Park: hemmed in, dominated by a large grandstand, irregularly joined up at the corners, of a similar size. Indeed, the old San Mamés was atypical of Spanish stadia, which is not something that can be said of the present one.
 
The original San Mamés – known to its regulars as La Catedral – was built in 1913 and consisted then of a wooden grandstand on one side, a rudimentary crescent-shaped terrace on the other and shallow lines of terracing behind each goal. Its capacity varies depending on where you get your information. Simon Inglis reckons 10,000, Estadios de Espana concurs, StadiumDB say 3,500, while The Stadium Guide and Athletic Bilbao’s own website stipulate 7,000, which by 1920 had risen to 9,000. Regardless, the most significant structural augmentation was implemented in 1953 with the construction of a massive two-tiered grandstand on the ground’s western perimeter. Bookended by two five-storey towers, acting as buttresses, the roof was suspended from a huge steel arch spanning 115 metres. As a standalone structure it must have seemed immense, contributing 12,000 seats towards a total capacity of 47,000, dwarfing the more modest stands that surrounded it.

The southern end of the stadium – the Tribuna de Capuchinos – was rebuilt in 1956, the northern – Tribuna de Misericordia – in 1962. Both had two tiers, propped roofs and irregular footprints, the metropolis having encroached upon San Mamés in the intervening years. In an effort to maximise this diminishing space, the south-eastern corner was filled in with a bank of rudimentary boxes. The east stand was then built up in 1971, retaining its distinctive crescent shape, and now also comprised of two covered tiers.

The next significant changes were a direct result of the 1982 World Cup, to be held in Spain. The east and west tribunas remained as they were, while the northern and southern ends were knocked down and replaced with matching stands, providing a degree of uniformity. The towers either side of the grandstand were removed to allow the newly built ends to join up with it, which involved inserting cantilevered brackets to support the weight of the arch. The roofs over these remodelled stands were also cantilevered, with rear windows running along the top of their curved outside edge. The southern end retained its awkward shape, angled to accommodate the road behind it (rather like Everton’s Goodison Road Stand). The ground now held around 46,000 of which 36,000 was seated. By the end of the 1990s the corners between the north, east and south stands had been filled in and seating implemented throughout, reducing the overall capacity to just under 40,000.

 

South and East stands with corner section.

In 2006, Athletic Bilbao announced its intention to build a new stadium. Because the site of the new build overlapped with the old, it was to be assembled in two stages. Work began on the stadium’s first three quarters in 2010 and was completed in September 2013, by which time the original one had been demolished, leaving a gap where it once stood.

In his book The Football Grounds of Europe, Simon Ingles says of Dusseldorf’s Rheinstadion that: ‘Had the stadium been completely enclosed, instead of being left open at the south end, the effect would have been far less appealing.’ He is referring to the development of the stadium between 1968 and 1972, and the reason it was left open was because of the open-air swimming pool contiguous to it. It wasn't an aesthetic choice but a practical one. The National Stadium in Cardiff used to be similarly breached, in that instance to allow light into the adjacent buildings. Oxford's Kassam Stadium, on the other hand, looks like it does because the club didn't have enough money to finish the job. There's nearly always a reason. Estádio Municipal de Braga, built into the side of a quarry, is the only ground I can think of where the effect is intentional and permanent. It has also won numerous architectural awards.

Needless to say, San Mamés didn't remain in this intermediate state for very long – just under a year. Once complete, the predictability of the design revealed itself. Consisting of two continuous tiers, with a smaller 'club level' between them, it resembles a scaled down version of Munich's Allianz Arena. It differs in that the leading edge of the upper tier undulates, sweeping downward towards the ground's corners. Arsenal's Emirates Stadium and Benfica's Estádio da Luz employ the same strategy, but whereas those stadia leave their corners open, here they've been filled in with 'sky boxes'. Whatever you think about high-end corporate facilities, these suites have the satisfying effect of sealing the ground in, literally and metaphorically. Unfortunately, Bilbao have followed Arsenal and Benfica's example in decking out the interior in toytown red (my description), which isn’t so obvious on match days but is an affront to the senses when the ground is empty.

From the outside, things are a little different. The site of the stadium is elevated, overlooking the River Nervión, the district of Deusto on the opposite side, and the river’s southern bank. It is visible from a number of angles and can be seen as another building in a long list of them that have proliferated in and around the district of Abando. Abando is not the city’s heart, Casco Viejo is, but it used to be its industrial centre. Nowadays, it is where you’ll find much of Bilbao’s modern architecture: the Isozaki Atea towers, Euskalduna Conference Centre and Concert Hall, La Salve Bridge, the Guggenheim Museum. Bilbao has long been in the process of reinventing itself, and buildings are its means. With this in mind, San Mamés had to walk a fine line; it needed to impose without being imposing.

It does and it isn’t. The façade is composed of five rows of twisted, white, vertical louvres made out of Ethylene Tetrafluoroethylene. Each row reaches out slightly farther than the one beneath and is capable of being backlit (another thing in common with Munich’s Allianz Arena).  Four large rectangular LED screens break the monotony, neatly encased within red-coloured frames. The roof is impressive too, although all that can be seen of it from street-level is a dark grey mantle angled inwards. It is enough to convey a sense of solidity, that there’s something substantial behind the permeable veneer.

And that was supposed to be that, but it rains a fair amount in Bilbao and it turned out the roof didn’t afford complete protection. Rather than live with it, like football fans used to, the canopy was extended in 2016 at a cost of €12.6 million. The visual quality of this extra coverage is debatable, and it has necessitated the use of artificial lighting to maintain the condition of the pitch, but at least everyone can keep dry.
 

On balance, Estadio San Mamés must be deemed a success. The old stadium was very old, and as interesting as it was from within it held little interest from without. The new stadium, although very much like other new stadiums, looks all right, is clean and comfortable, has excellent viewing angles (the stands are steeper than those at Arsenal) and can generate a good atmosphere. It’s that last point that really counts.

STADIA: STADIO RENATO DALL 'ARA, BOLOGNA

Like Turin, Bologna is loaded with porticoes. Unlike Turin, Bolognese architecture is traditionally Italian Gothic and medieval, as opposed to Baroque. It is the older city, or appears to be. Bologna's stadium is also older than Turin's, but not by much – just six years. Looking at it, you'd think at least 60. This disparity is all the more striking when one considers that both grounds were part of the same initiative. Stadio Olimpico Grande Torino began life as the Stadio Municipale Benito Mussolini, while the Stadio Renato Dall'Ara was originally known as Stadio Littoriale – ‘Littoriali’ being the name of the annual events organised by the Partito Nazionale Fascista to celebrate itself. Yet one is built in the International Style, and was thus architecturally contemporary, whereas the other is neoclassical, looking to the past.

The discrepancy is in part explained by the projects' respective architects. The stadium in Turin was designed by Raffaello Fagnoni (also responsible for Stadio Porta Elisa in Lucca) who was loosely connected with Italian Rationalism. Stadio Littoriale's architect, Giulio Ulisse Arata – working under the direction of Umberto Costanzini – is harder to pin down. Mannerism, Eclecticism, Neo-Baroque and Art Nouveau have all been used to describe his work, but none of these really apply here. The greater consideration may well have been born of the city itself, the preponderance of red brick, the site of the stadium, and its connection – physically, literally – to the Portico di San Luca.

On Bologna's formation in 1909, they went about their business at Prati di Caprara, which was little more than a field, or parade ground, rented off the local military. After a couple of years the club relocated to Cesoia outside Porta San Vitale, which offered more in the way of amenity: changing rooms, a fence demarcating the perimeter, fixed goalposts. By 1913 Bologna were playing at Stadio Sterlino, outside Porta Santo Stefano, which had a sloping pitch but was otherwise well appointed – more fencing, an open terrace, a covered grandstand.

Bologna moved to their current home in 1927. The ground was actually part of a much broader scheme instigated by Bologna’s mayor, Leandro Arpinati, who also happened to be the president of the Italian Football Federation, vice-secretary general of the National Fascist Party, a citizen of Bologna and a supporter of its team. As well as including the obligatory athletics’ track, tennis courts and swimming pools (one outdoor, one indoor) were constructed to the rear of the tribuna. In 1929, the six-storey Marathon Tower was added, overlooking the terrace opposite, serving as a platform from which Mussolini could spew Fascist propaganda. Both sides were straight, the ends semi-circular – conventional and inexpensive.

Perhaps the most significant feature was a pre-existing one: the incorporation of the Portico di San Luca along the stadium’s eastern perimeter, beneath the Marathon Tower, running south and upwards towards the Santuario Madonna di San Luca. The façade of the ground itself was comprised of a series of arched windows and doors on two levels, mirroring the arches of the portico and finished in the same terracotta brick. I say ‘finished’ because the external brickwork was not structural; reinforced concrete lay behind it.

The stadium was deemed a success. Architecturally it was an anachronism. The aforementioned Stadio Municipale Benito Mussolini in Turin, Fiorentina’s Stadio Giovanni Berta, even Napoli’s Stadio Partenopeo, all had cantilevered roofs. Stadio Littoriale's was flat and propped up by twelve posts. Where Raffaello Fagnon and Pier Luigi Nervi's structural endeavours were left on show, Costanzini's were hidden away. Of all the grounds selected for the 1934 World Cup, only the Stadio Nazionale PNF in Rome was stylistically comparable, and that dated back to 1911.
 

Renamed Stadio Renato Dall'Ara in 1983 (in memory of the club’s longest serving and most successful president) the ground underwent very little in the way of change until it was chosen as a venue for the 1990 World Cup. In fact, plans to modernise the ground had been tentatively drawn up as early as 1984 and would form the basis for its subsequent overhaul.

Overhaul is the right word. As with the Bentegodi in Verona and the Artemio Franchi in Florence, the standing structure of the Dall’Ara remained pretty much intact. An increased, all-seated capacity was achieved by adding three rows at the bottom, where the parterre was, and twelve at the top. The question was simply how to support those extra twelve rows without obfuscating what it was that defined the Stadio Renato Dall'Ara: the neo-classical façade and the colour of the bricks that comprised it.

The solution was both ingenious and brave. An exposed steel framework supported by 120 columns was aligned with the existing pilasters, supporting the extended terrace and providing access to it via a series of stairwells running around the stadium’s perimeter. That the external brickwork was partially obscured is undeniable, but the colour of the steel supports – somewhere between teal and turquoise – complemented the terracotta masonry rather than overwhelming it. As did the yellow railings and the raw concrete of the extended terrace. The effect is that of a Victorian-era train station turned inside out.

The steel roof is a continuation of the exoskeleton, but more refined. It is a cantilevered structure reaching backwards 5 metres from the rear of the tribuna and seems to float above it. Laterally, it covers more ground than the previous canopy, following the curve of the terrace before stopping abruptly, as if satisfied that more than enough protection has been afforded to the spectators below. Finally the tower, which was built around and scrubbed up – the extended terrace drops down as it gets closer to it – and yellow seating throughout.

Not much has changed since, save for new seating – red and blue, placed randomly – and improved corporate facilities within the tribuna.

In 2016 Bologna Football Club began the process of redeveloping the Renato Dall'Ara. By 2019 they had a plan. Should it ever get off the drawing board, this will involve demolishing everything other than the original brickwork, which includes the tower, removing the running track and putting a roof over the whole thing. Capacity will be reduced, from something like 36,000 to around 30,000. The whole scheme is more than likely contingent on the ground’s selection as venue for the 2032 European Football Championship.

         Is the venture worth pursuing regardless? Probably. Despite its architectural interest, Stadio Renato Dall'Ara is at the very least in need of a heavy paint job. But that won’t solve the problem of the weather. The climate of Bologna is not that of Palermo (whose stadium is similar), and those northern Italian winters can be a real drag.

THE SARTORIAL ELEGANCE OF SERIE A: PALERMO, 1990-92 [ABM]

Same old story: Palermo got their colours after a laundry incident turned their football shirts pink. The club had previously worn a combination of red and blue, so it's doubtful that such a mutation is even possible. In any case, the more widely accepted explanation is based upon a letter sent to the club's president, Joshua 'Giuseppe' Whitaker, in 1905 suggesting the change to pink and black to represent the rosolio and amaro produced by Whitaker's family business, which was drunk after a game in accordance with the result: rosolio – which is pink, sweet – after a win, and amaro – black, bitter – in defeat. (It is not known what was consumed in the event of a draw.)

The new colours weren't in fact implemented until 1907, the same year the club changed its name to Palermo Foot-Ball Club. Hitherto, they'd identified as the Anglo-Palermitan Athletic and Foot-Ball Club, reflecting the team's English ties: the aforementioned ornithologist Joseph Whitaker, Viceconsul Edward De Garston, Norman Olsen, George Blake, who had previously been involved in the establishment of Genoa Cricket and Football Club, as well as Ignazio Pagano, a local Italian who had been introduced to football during his two years spent studying in England.

The opportunity to actually play football was scarce and centred around matches against the crews of passing British ships. Indeed, the only other team in Sicily at the time was Messina FC, founded in 1900 by Alfredo Marangolo, who had studied alongside Ignazio Pagano in London. In 1901, the two of them would get together and organise a match between their respective teams, and again in 1904, before the arrangement was solidified with the creation of the Whitaker Challenge Cup in 1905. This annual fixture ran for four consecutive years (honours even) before the 1908 Messina earthquake put a terrible stop to it.

In its place, and quite independent from it, came the Lipton Challenge Cup. One of the crews Palermo had played against had been that of the Erin, a privately owned yacht belonging Sir Thomas Lipton. Palermo had won, and the tea-magnate rewarded them with a formidable trophy. Unable to commit to a rematch, Lipton stipulated that teams from Sicily and Campania should compete annually for the cup, which effectively meant Palermo playing against either Naples Foot-Ball Club or Unione Sportiva Internazionale Napoli. This competition ran until 1915, cut short by Italy's entrance into the First World War.

In the wake of the conflict, a number of smaller clubs emerged: Trinacria, Itala, Esperia, and Racing FBC. Valentino Columbo, who'd played for Palermo prior to the war, purchased Racing FBC, who played in blue and white halved shirt, and rebranded them Unione Sportiva Palermo. Within a year, he changed the colours to pink and black, facilitating a sense of continuity between the new club and the older one. More mergers were to follow – with Unione Sportiva Leoni in 1922, Sport Club Libertas Palermo in 1923, and 'Vigor' in 1927 – and another name change, to Palermo Football Club. Meanwhile, the team muddled along in Lega Sud, struggling financially.

By the time of Serie A's inauguration in 1929, Palermo were playing in Group D – the 'Southern Directory Circle' – and came top of it, gaining promotion into Serie B. Coincidently, that same year the club commissioned a new badge, which is worthy of note because it was designed by the Italian painter and futurist Giuseppe 'Pippo' Rizzo. Comprised of a horizontally inclined rhombus set against a stylised, brown leather football, it was replaced as early as 1932 after Palermo won promotion into Serie A. This was the moment at which the club adopted the symbol of the golden eagle, derived from the city’s coat of arms, which remains in place to this day.
 
Like so many other Italian football teams, Palermo would soon fall foul of Fascist initiatives. First they were obliged to ‘Italianise’ their name, and not long after were pressured into taking on the colours of municipal Palermo – red and yellow. In the midst of all this, they were relegated. If that wasn’t bad enough, in 1940 the FIGC kicked them out of the league due to insolvency.

Not for the first time, Palermo were forced into affiliation with a lesser but more economically stable local rival. The team in question was Juventina Palermo, who just so happened to wear the same colours that Racing FBC had. The partnership was retitled Unione Sportiva Palermo-Juventina and within a couple of years were playing in pink and black; within four, they were called more simply Unione Sportiva Palermo.

The 1950s and 1960s would represent a period of relative stability for Palermo. Flitting between series A and B, the most dramatic thing that happened to them was another change of name, to Società Sportiva Calcio Palermo, a by-product of the club listing itself as a joint-stock company. At some point during this period – probably the late 1960s – Palermo started experimenting with stripes. By the 1970s, this trend seemed to have passed, a decade that was spent almost entirely within the confines of Serie B.
 

1979-80

The idea that the football shirt, and sportswear in general, is something other than utilitarian came about in the 1970s. If you wanted to identify a 'year zero' then 1972 might do, when Adidas launched their trefoil logo in the run up to the Munich Olympics. Up until then, branding in football had been low key, often non-existent. By the end of the decade it would be ubiquitous, thanks to the efforts of firms such as Admiral, Umbro, Puma and, of course, Adidas. In Italy, the company that led the charge was Pouchain.

This golden age of footballing couture would last until the end of the century, whereafter sports kit started to become more technical – or would pretend to be. Even though the notion of the football shirt as high performing sportwear is slightly disingenuous, it is fair to say that the invention of manmade fabrics has been of some benefit to the game, has it has for many other sports. When Pouchain were active, acrylic was the material of choice, which had itself superseded wool and cotton. Ennerre favoured acrylic, before eventually getting on board with polyester in the early 1990s, while ABM liked to mix polyester with cotton.

Palermo have had gear manufactured by all three: Pouchain from 1979-80, Ennerre from 1980-86, and ABM from 1990-96. Designed by Pierro Gratton, Pouchain’s shirt had by far the best badge: the silhouetted profile of an eagle's head framed within the outline of a diamond. The problem with it was that the fashion of the day dictated that the jerseys were tightly fitted. The Ennerre shirts were more forgiving but suffered from the fact that they didn’t incorporate the club’s insignia, which wasn’t so unusual back then (see also Como, Avellino, even Juventus). After two years with Ennerre’s offshoot company Ennedue, who were equally negligent, Hummel stepped into the fold. Again, the Danish firm didn’t see fit to incorporate a badge, but otherwise showed promise. Finally, ABM took over, and knocked the ball out of the park.

Palermo’s 1990/91 shirt might be their best. For one, it had a badge, although not Gratton’s, which the club had got rid of in 1987. Instead, a Iberian style shield, of the type Inter used throughout the 1980s, with an oblique pink and black stripe running through the middle and the basic outline of an eagle’s head over the top. The template itself was the same that was being used at Fiorentina, Piacenza, Messina and Ternana: collar, trimmed V-neck, ABM's logo running in vertical micropatterned lines within the fabric of the shirt. The sponsor was ‘Citta di Palermo’ in what I can only assume was some sort of tourism initiative, which let it down a bit.

For the next season, the minimal club crest was dropped for a more complicated rendering of an eagle almost in flight. The collar was now black, while the new sponsor – consumer electronics producer Sèleco – was printed in blue. ABM also produced a pink and black striped third version with diagonal micropatterning, which hardly seemed necessary but looked good all the same.
 

1991-92

The 1990s saw Palermo – or Unione Sportiva Città di Palermo, as they were known from 1994 onward – yo-yoing between series B and C. The new century brought with it a revival of fortune, with the club qualifying for the UEFA Cup/Europa League on three separate occasions. The bubble finally burst in 2019, whereupon Palermo were forced to reregister as Palermo Società Sportiva Dilettantistica and ply their trade in Serie D. Upon promotion into Serie C in 2020, they were permitted to restitute the name Palermo Football Club, and are currently playing in Serie B wearing gear supplied by Puma.