Millwall must own their horror tackles and vile chanting rather than shooting the messenger by banning the Press, writes OLIVER HOLT

The last time I went to The Den, as an away fan, was 15 years ago this month. I’m a stadium dork so I keep records. I remember it fairly clearly anyway, especially the walk from South Bermondsey station to the away turnstiles.

Not that there were any problems. It was just that it felt like a scene from Escape from New York or some other dystopia: the sparse band of Stockport County fans who had made the journey south was directed to the ground through a long wire mesh cage that seemed to have no end.

I didn’t see a single Millwall supporter all the way to the ground but the precautions felt almost amusing. It was like a journey into football’s zombie apocalypse. The cage brought visions of fans hurling themselves at us in demented fury and missiles raining down like fire. Neither materialised.

Once inside, I was, I confess, slightly taken aback by the ferocity of the hatred that the Millwall fans in the adjoining stand exhibited towards the slightly bedraggled and dispirited band of away supporters. I’m not a naif, but it seemed unusually visceral. I mean this was Stockport in freefall, not a full-grown enemy such as Chelsea or Leeds. County lost 5-0.

The last time I went to The Den, as a reporter, was eight years ago when Millwall’s FA Cup fifth round victory over Leicester City was followed by a pitch invasion from home fans. Missiles were thrown and four police horses rode on to the turf in an attempt to restore order.

Afterwards, I asked the then Millwall manager Neil Harris, who I continue to hold in high regard, what he thought of the home fans’ behaviour. He circled the wagons and said he would not allow journalists like me to put words in his mouth.

Maybe my experiences have been untypical. And maybe much has changed in the Millwall fan base in the last eight years. For many years, they were the closest thing English football had to a pariah club, a fan-base that came with a reputation.

I know that the club’s community arm has done a lot of admirable work. And I accept that, aside from regular flirtations with racism, a fondness for homophobic taunts, an affinity for violent confrontation, the booing of players taking the knee and the odd bout of tragedy chanting, there may be much to admire about the club’s support-base.

What I find increasingly odd and increasingly sad, though, is the club’s aggressive reluctance to hold itself accountable. That applied all those years ago following the pitch invasion after the Leicester game and it applies now after goalkeeper Liam Roberts’ horrific red card challenge on Crystal Palace’s Jean-Philippe Mateta early in Saturday’s FA Cup fifth round tie between the two teams at Selhurst Park.

I do not think that the kung-fu kick flying tackle on Mateta was intentional but lack of intent does not change what happened. Let’s not be shy about describing the effects of Roberts’ recklessness: Mateta needed oxygen, a stretcher to leave the field, a visit to the hospital and 25 stitches as a result of the Millwall keeper’s actions.

It was not quite in the same league of horror as Harald Schumacher’s notoriously brutal challenge on Patrick Battison during the 1982 World Cup but it was the closest thing I’ve seen to that. 

I didn’t blame Crystal Palace co-owner Steve Parish for saying, at half-time, ‘he’s endangering a fellow professional and maybe even his life with a challenge like that’.

Tony Cascarino, who could hardly be accused of being a shrinking violet as a player and has been, for a long time, an excellent and astute observer of the game was unequivocal in his response, too.

‘The challenge,’ he wrote in The Times, ‘was like something you would see in the UFC, or in a Bruce Lee film. It was a kung-fu kick. But it was even more dangerous than MMA because of the studs Roberts had on and the momentum he carried into the challenge.’

Then, there was the spectacle of Millwall fans chanting at Mateta ‘let him die, let him die, let him die’. Now any English football fan knows that that chant is part of the lexicon of the game. It is not peculiar to Millwall. 

What is peculiar, however, is that it is a chant fans normally sing when a player has rolled around after being tripped and is being treated for something generally considered insignificant. 

It is not something you sing when a player is being given oxygen. You don’t sing ‘let him die’ when there is a faint possibility that the player might actually die.

And yet Millwall’s response, ironically, has been to lash out and try to turn themselves and Roberts into the victims. They used to be proud of the motto No One Likes Us, We Don’t Care. Now it seems to be No One Likes Us and We Care Deeply, How Dare You Criticise Us for Our Goalkeeper’s Kung-Fu Kick, There’s Nothing To See Here.

The Daily Mail, have received letters from the club complaining about coverage and banning us from The Den. I’m not sure what Millwall expected. Sympathy? Flowers? Chocolates? Free tickets for the entire squad to a special screening of Enter the Dragon?

Own it. Admit that even if Roberts’ challenge was without intent, it could easily have been life-changing for Mateta. Accept that a challenge like that has no place in football and that the goalkeeper deserves the criticism, the condemnation and the six-match ban that is the minimum that should be coming his way.

Accept that the club deserves criticism for its fans’ vile chanting, which spread into homophobic abuse of Ben Chilwell. Don’t try and spread the blame. Take responsibility. Don’t dig yourselves in even deeper when one of your players has just committed one of the worst fouls on an opponent in recent memory.

Don’t shoot the messenger. Take a look at yourselves. And maybe reflect that if you’d taken responsibility a bit more during the last 25 years, instead of deflecting, circling the wagons and covering your ears like a kid, then maybe you might have rid yourselves of the reputation that you are earning anew.

A mad hair day for sport

I’m not sure if Sports Illustrated magazine runs any sort of successor to its feature that used to be called This Week’s Sign of the Apocalypse.  If it does, I think I know what will be the favourite. 

During his WBA lightweight world championship fight with Lamont Roach Jr, Gervonta Davis, one of the best pound-for-pound fighters in the world, took a knee after he took a shot during the ninth round because and said hair product had got into his eyes after he had a hairdo two days earlier. 

The referee, to general consternation, did not rule the incident a knock-down and Davis escaped with a draw. 

Some may make comparisons with the first Ali-Liston fight in Miami but if that episode smelled of dirty tricks from Liston’s corner and quick-thinking from Ali’s, this looked like vanity, or cynical opportunism, gone mad.

Hughes’ ‘fun’ focus is a breath of fresh air 

I had a brilliant night at Holker Street last week, watching the Cumbria derby between Barrow and Carlisle United. 

The atmosphere at the ground was raw and visceral, the club staff were friendly, the farm shop next to the touchline sold great steak pies, the football was honest and committed and the Carlisle winner came from a move that was just like watching Brazil. 

Mark Hughes, the new manager of Carlisle, who are rock bottom of the Football League, smiled as he did his press conference on the pitch after the match and thought of the disbelief that greeted his acceptance of the job. 

‘People scratch their heads and wonder why I’m doing it,’ Hughes said, looking across the grass to where the Carlisle fans had been standing. ‘But it’s this. It’s great fun, isn’t it.’ 

Great fun? It brought me up short hearing that. When did you last hear anyone in the top flight of our game saying they had fun? 

The stakes are so high, the abuse is so great, the players so separate from the fans, that fun is often the last thing on anyone’s mind. In Barrow, it was a delight to rediscover it.