The fans of Beitar Jerusalem can be found at Beit Wagan, the club’s training ground. Here in west Jerusalem, the players prepare for the match ahead under the watchful eye of their supporters. Among them is Guy – a diehard fanatic.

Like all fans of Beitar, Guy is filled with a burning passion for his team. Nothing comes between him and his club. Not even the military, though sacred in Israel.

“Before signing up for the army I explain, ‘I’m a mad fan of Beitar Jerusalem,’” he says from beneath a rigid cap, enshrouded in hood. “You want me with you? Ok, no problem, but remember that on match-days I go mad. I have to see the match.”

“Bomb Tel Aviv!”

Historically linked to the ultra-nationalist right and the Beitar political movement, created in 1923 by Ukrainian Vladimir Zeev Jabotinsky, the club’s supporters are reputed for their extreme – often violent – behaviour and their anti-Arab chants, as well as their ardent hatred of rival team Hapoel Tel Aviv.

“Hapoel Tel Aviv are Jews in the Arab camp,” says Guy as his comrades look on approvingly. “You remember when Saddam Hussein bombed Tel Aviv in the first Iraq War in 1991? Well, we Beitar fans still sing ‘Ya Saddam habibi, roudrou roudrou Tel Aviv!’ It means ‘O dear Saddam, unleash your bombs on Tel Aviv!’” They truly hate their rivals' club.

Match-night, Teddy Kolek Stadium

Sunday April 13. The Teddy Kolek Stadium writhes with the yellow and black of Beitar Jerusalem, as supporters cram into the stands to welcome their team home. Before the match kicks off, the club’s 20,000 supporters, scarf and flag raised heavenward, take up the Hatikva, Israel’s national anthem. Russian-Israeli billionaire and team-owner Arcadi Gaydamak joins in on the act.

On the northern wing, in the heart of the Mizrahi stand, or ‘east’ stand in Hebrew, is Guy with all the supporters. The crowd jumps and sways in all directions, singing with full voice. The ambiance is positively electric. “This here is my family,” says the number one fan. “This is my house.” Guy has already just about lost his voice.

The Beitar Jerusalem crowd is sometimes openly racist. “These supporters are the best supporters in Israel,” shouts Shlomo, a young enthusiastic fan. “You see all this here? Yellow and black – it’s life, it’s Beitar, it’s the number one club in Israel. We hate Hapoel, we hate Sakhnin (Arab- Israeli rival club), we hate Arabs. We are Jews. We live in Jerusalem and we’ll stay in Jerusalem.”

Down on the pitch, the Beitar players open the score with a penalty. The fans have waited almost 70 minutes. Their jubilation is explosive. If Beitar win, the Israeli championship is theirs. The fanatics crowd around the barriers. The clock ticks into the 80^th minute. “They all want to invade the pitch, can’t you see?” explains Shlomo. “They want to celebrate!”

Police overrun

Tensions are at boiling point. The crowd is building up and is about to spill onto the pitch. Suddenly, four minutes from the end of the match, thousands of supporters burst onto the ground, chasing the players. Anarchy tears across the field and the police are overpowered. The fans with their flags – some bare-chested – are in control of the stadium.

This chaotic outburst of joy would cost the club dearly. Beitar were to lose several points and be forced to play out their path to the championship without their supporters, banned for their misdemeanour. As for the fans, they had once more hit the headlines.