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The excesses between supporters have reminded us that the two big cities have a relationship that is more of reciprocal contempt than frontal opposition.
This is a game that is not about to end. Sunday August 22, the meeting between the Olympic gymnast club of Nice (OGCN) and the Olympique de Marseille (OM) did not come to an end. Throwing bottles, invading the field, chases, competition throws, attacked players, etc. Let’s say it all flew very low. After a long break in the game, the Marseillais packed their bags. It was 11:48 p.m. at the Allianz Arena. The time for controversy had come. And, for its part, the sports justice was to deliver its verdict on Wednesday, September 8.
According to the Professional Football League (LFP) schedule, this Southern derby started at 8:45 pm Some local historians say it started much earlier. Between the 3rd and 2nd centuries BC (well before the invention of football in its modern version, on October 26, 1863, in London). A rivalry as old as Herod. We better understand the extent of the problem. At that time, Greek sailors settled in Massalia (Marseille) would have founded Nikaïa (Nice), in Ligurian soil, in order to guarantee a little better the safety of their cabotage in this corner of the Mediterranean. But colonial adventures usually end badly.
The colony will continue to free itself from the colonizer, and the former colonist, at first mocking, will end up annoying the success of the decolonized, willingly boastful. The Marseille writer Olivier Boura, author, among others, of Marseille or the Bad Reputation (Arléa, 1998), remembers: “When I was a child, in the 1970s, our teacher told this story. We were like, “We’re the bosses after all!” We were proud. “The Nice novelist Patrick Raynal, former director of the Série noire, affirms:” Nice is a city that prances. She got rich. Sometimes she’s arrogant. Marseille stagnated for a long time and still stagnates. She is jealous. »In the South-East, nothing new.
200 kilometers away, each camp in its positions, on either side of the Var department, which acts as a bumper. The Marseille accent sings. The Nice accent drags on. In the Old Port, we love pizza. In Old Nice, we prefer the pissaladière. The coat of arms of Marseille bears a lion and a bull, that of Nice an eagle. Here, we are on the left but we elected a senator from the National Rally (Stéphane Ravier), over there, we are on the right but we experienced a communist moment (1945-1947). The Marseillais speak maritime Provencal, the Niçois the Nissart. Enough not to understand each other?
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