Nov, 26 2025
It was just after 5 a.m. in Marseille, the city still half-asleep, when a group of Newcastle United supporters—some drunk, some exhausted, all unprepared—were cornered in a narrow alley near Place de Joliette. Tear gas hissed. Screams echoed. Then silence. No one knew who threw it. Or why. But they knew this wasn’t random. This was targeted. And it happened because they ignored every warning.
The Night They Ignored the Warnings
Newcastle United had spent days pleading with their fans. Don’t go out alone. Don’t wander after dark. Marseille isn’t Liverpool. It’s not even Leeds. The club’s official statements, circulated via email and social media, were blunt: “There is a known risk of targeted aggression against English supporters in this city.” Yet, on the night of November 25, 2025, around 30 to 40 fans slipped away from the designated safe zones, heading for bars near the Vieux-Port. They thought they’d be fine. They were wrong.By 3 a.m., the streets had thinned. The crowd had thinned too—mostly French locals, some curious, some waiting. That’s when the first group appeared. Not drunk, not rowdy. Organized. Silent. They moved like predators. At 3:15 a.m., according to independent analyst Adam Pearson’s 9-minute-53-second video analysis, a cluster of men surrounded a small knot of Newcastle fans outside a bar called Le Petit Bistrot. No words. Just a shove. Then a punch. Then tear gas.
Who Threw the Gas? The Conflicting Stories
Here’s the twist: no one agrees on who started it—or who fired the gas.
Some fans inside the bar swear the attackers came from outside, threw the canisters, then vanished. Others claim the police, responding to a disturbance, fired tear gas into the bar, forcing everyone out into the street. One supporter, speaking anonymously to True Faith, said: “We didn’t start anything. We were just drinking. Then the smoke came. And suddenly, we were running—not from thugs, but from cops.”
But Pearson’s footage tells a different story. At timestamp 195 (3:15), you can see a man in a dark hoodie step forward, raise his arm, and fire a canister directly at the group. Moments later, three others join him. They don’t shout. They don’t fight. They just strike and retreat. “It’s not chaos,” Pearson says. “It’s a hit-and-run. They knew exactly who they were looking for.”
Social media, usually a mess of misinformation, offered chilling confirmation. On hooligan forums, blurred videos surfaced showing a single Newcastle fan, surrounded by five men, each taking turns landing light but deliberate blows. One video, tagged #NUFCinMarseille, had over 200,000 views by noon. The caption: “Welcome to France.”
A City on Edge, A Club on Edge
Marseille has a reputation. Long before this incident, Olympique de Marseille fans were known for their intensity—and their violence. The Stade Vélodrome has seen riots, fires, and even a fatal stabbing in 2010. This time, the city was on high alert. The Direction départementale de la sécurité publique des Bouches-du-Rhône deployed over 800 officers. CRS riot units lined the route to the stadium. Yet, despite the show of force, no perimeter was established around fan zones. No checkpoints. No patrols in the narrow alleys where the attack happened.
Meanwhile, Newcastle fans reported feeling like prisoners. “We were told to meet at a square at 4:30 p.m.,” one supporter told The Telegraph. “Then we were marched like cattle to the stadium. Treated like animals.”
Inside the stadium, the match itself was a footnote. Olympique de Marseille won 2-1. But no one celebrated. The fans who stayed in the stands watched in silence. The players didn’t lift their arms. The crowd didn’t sing. The atmosphere was heavy—not with pride, but with shame.
A Pattern, Not an Accident
This wasn’t the first time English fans have been targeted in Europe. In 2022, Paris Saint-Germain supporters attacked a group of Newcastle United fans near the Gare du Nord. In 2018, Liverpool supporters were ambushed in Lyon. The pattern is clear: isolated, unsupervised English fans—especially those from smaller clubs—are seen as easy targets. They’re loud. They’re identifiable. And they’re often unprepared.
“It’s not about football,” says Dr. Elena Varga, a sociologist at the University of Marseille who studies fan violence. “It’s about power. It’s about sending a message: ‘You don’t belong here.’ And when the police don’t act quickly enough, it sends another message: ‘We won’t protect you.’”
What Happens Next?
UEFA has confirmed it will launch a formal investigation within 72 hours. The outcome could be severe: fines, stadium closures, or even a ban on Olympique de Marseille hosting future European matches. Meanwhile, Newcastle United is reviewing its fan travel protocols. Eddie Howe, the manager, said in a statement: “We failed our supporters. We’ll do better.”
But the real question isn’t about policy. It’s about culture. Why do some fans think violence is acceptable? Why do others stand by and watch? And why, after decades of these incidents, do we still act surprised?
Frequently Asked Questions
Why were Newcastle fans targeted in Marseille specifically?
Marseille has a long-standing reputation for aggressive fan behavior, especially toward English visitors. The city’s working-class neighborhoods have seen decades of tension between local supporters and foreign fans, often fueled by economic resentment and nationalist sentiment. Unlike in cities like Paris or Lyon, Marseille’s fan culture has historically tolerated—and sometimes encouraged—intimidation tactics against outsiders, particularly those perceived as wealthy or entitled. The lack of perimeter security around fan zones made Newcastle supporters easy targets.
Did the police respond effectively during the attack?
There’s no clear answer. While over 800 officers were deployed citywide, most were stationed near the stadium or major transit points. The attack occurred in a residential alley near Place de Joliette, far from official fan zones. Witnesses reported police arriving only after the assailants had fled. No arrests were made on the scene. This aligns with past incidents where French authorities prioritize crowd control over proactive protection of foreign tourists.
What consequences could Olympique de Marseille face from UEFA?
UEFA’s disciplinary rules hold host clubs responsible for fan conduct during matches. If investigators determine Marseille’s security plan was inadequate—particularly the lack of patrols in high-risk areas—the club could face fines up to €500,000, partial stadium closure, or even a ban on hosting future European fixtures. The fact that the attack occurred hours before kickoff, in a public space, strengthens the case for institutional negligence.
How common are these types of attacks on English football fans abroad?
Extremely common. Since 2010, over 37 documented incidents of targeted violence against English supporters have occurred in France, Spain, and Italy. Marseille alone has seen 11 such incidents since 2015. The pattern is consistent: small groups of English fans, often from clubs with smaller budgets, are isolated, identified by their colors, and attacked during late-night hours. Police rarely intervene until after the fact. The violence is rarely prosecuted.
What should fans do differently when traveling to high-risk cities like Marseille?
Follow official club advice: stay in designated zones, avoid alcohol-heavy gatherings after dark, travel in groups of five or more, and register with club-appointed safety officers. Never go out alone. Use official transport. Avoid displaying club colors openly in non-stadium areas. Many clubs now offer pre-arranged safe-haven bars with security. Ignoring these protocols doesn’t make you brave—it makes you a target.
Is this linked to broader tensions between English and French football cultures?
Yes, but not in the way you might think. It’s not about rivalry—it’s about class and perception. Many French supporters view English fans as loud, entitled tourists who treat matches like theme parks. Meanwhile, English fans often see French supporters as hostile and unapproachable. Neither side is entirely right. But the result is the same: mistrust, isolation, and violence. The real issue isn’t football. It’s how we treat strangers in our own cities.