On soccer violence:The policeman was struggling to make himself heard over the wail of sirens and the thundering of the helicopter circling overhead. "This has been a terrible night, the worst I have seen," he murmured. "We weren't prepared for the ferocity of the attack. It was far beyond anything we imagined. Paving slabs, bricks, fireworks and other missiles were being thrown at us, it was sheer hell. And this is all in the name of football."
It sounds like a grim closing scene to the Italian tragedy played out in Sicily 10 days ago, a speech to be read while the credits roll and the camera pans back to reveal the ruined streets around the Stadio Massimino, still strewn with debris hurled by hooligans from FC Catania and Palermo. In the foreground, perhaps, is the body of Filippo Raciti, the officer who died after his liver was splintered by a blow to the stomach.
As it happens, chief superintendent Mike Humphrey saw nothing of the riots which dragged the name of Italian football back into the gutter. He was describing the equally shameful events which followed Millwall's English League Championship play-off semi-final with Birmingham City in May, 2002, which saw 47 police officers and 26 riot horses injured, two cars set on fire and a local children's playground ripped up and used as ammunition.
It is worth remembering that night, and not just because it proves English hooliganism, rather than being stamped out by the advent of the squeaky-clean, mass-marketed Premiership, still lurks - shrunken and shrivelled, but poisonous - in the dark corners of the lower leagues.
More importantly, it serves as a reminder that when clubs accept responsibility for the actions of the lunatic fringe, the battle against organised football thuggery is not hopeless.
Those chaotic scenes in south-east London prompted Millwall, who had for so long revelled distastefully in their reputation for violence and intimidation, to instigate a radical review of how to combat their hooligan element.
A members-only scheme was introduced for all matches, restricting the sale of seats to those registered on an official database and banning away fans from attending at all, and results were spectacular. The season after the Birmingham riots, just 18 supporters were arrested at Millwall matches, compared to 109 the previous year.
There were caveats, of course. Several thousand law-abiding fans were deeply resentful at being made to produce up to five different forms of identification in order to buy tickets and many vowed never to return to the New Den. Attendances slumped sharply and the club - financially crippled by the loss of gate revenue - struggled to compete in the Championship. They have still not fully recovered and currently languish in League One obscurity.
And yet if the men now faced with the monumental task of restoring pride to Italy's national game fancy picking up a tip or two, they could do worse than head down the Old Kent Road. Millwall might have alienated a section of their support with their draconian measures, but they rightly deemed it a price worth paying if they safeguarded their long-term future.
What is beyond doubt is that Italy needs help. The immediate response of the Italian Football Association - to cancel all fixtures and close all stadiums - was predictable and, to an extent, unavoidable. To have recommenced Serie A before officer Raciti had even been granted a funeral would have been callous in the extreme and might have provoked another violent backlash.
But it is ludicrous to suggest that shutting down grounds will cure what should now be known as "the Italian disease". Similar measures have been implemented in the recent past, and they serve merely to postpone tragedy and turmoil.
More incisive action needs to be taken. The rebuilding of many dilapidated council-owned stadiums and clubs taking a more proactive stance regarding the training and employment of stewards are essential long-term goals, but work must begin now, while the need is most pressing.
A more immediate priority is the abolition of the cosy relationship the clubs share with their ultras, the hardcore fans who play such a prominent role in organising and co-ordinating violence with rival gangs. These groups should have no say over ticketing issues and no say over the way stadiums are policed: the current arrangements are akin to handing the jailhouse keys to the longest-serving lags.
Such a move would be met with outright hostility and might even provoke more trouble. But Millwall proved what could be achieved if clubs stand up to the Neanderthals who continually soil the name of the clubs they purport to love and it is a time for brave decisions. They have been flunked before and the consequences were meted out in blood and bullets in Catania.
