My last stop in Prague was at one of my favourite grounds, and one of my favourite teams, in Europe. Viktoria Zizkov’s “Viktoria Stadium” offers a rare chance to see a ground left virtually unchanged since the Communist era. It would hardly be surprising to see the players run out in 1930s-style long shorts and Brylcreemed hair, greeted by a support base in flat caps, smoking the Czech equivalent of Woodbines.
The area is dominated by the enormous Soviet-style TV tower, which looms over the ground and can be seen from almost anywhere in Prague. It’s worth a look after the match: next door is a partially demolished Jewish cemetery, largely destroyed during construction, while a series of curious statues by David Černý depict children crawling up the tower’s tubular pillars.
Eccentricities abound
Zizkov itself is named after the famous medieval warrior Jan Zizka, whose enormous statue on the adjacent Vitkov hill forms part of the Czech national monument. The area was originally a separate town before becoming part of Prague, with a reputation as both a tough working-class district and a Bohemian quarter. That character lingers today: around the ground are battered blocks of flats and old-fashioned pubs, but the higher you climb, the more gentrified this fascinating place becomes. Cafes, pubs and restaurants abound and it is probably my favourite residential district of Prague alongside nearby Karlin.
Not much had changed around the ground since my last visit in 2022, apart from promotion to the second division. Eccentricities abounded in the little park outside the stadium. Young fans are driven around in vintage model cars in Zizkov colours, while alcoholics mix with bodybuilders using the outdoor gym. The back of the only covered stand is covered in graffiti and murals telling the club’s history, but the real delights are inside.
What you see is what you get
The ground is nestled into a hidden valley, with a steep wall of flats and houses overlooking the pitch. That side clearly used to be open terracing and, on my first visit in 2005, was seated. Today, one section is still used by the Ultra groups, while the rest lies derelict apart from a superb mural of a boy and his grandad watching a game. Opposite the entrance is open seating for away fans, backed by a huge concrete hulk of a building, now boarded and shuttered. Other than the antiquated main stand and a flat end with portacabins for toilets and other facilities, that is pretty much it.
It’s clear that there is no room for expansion and that the facilities are only just meeting safety requirements but that is also part of the place’s charm. As with Dukla, there is a non-league feel to the crowd: local long-term fans, Czech hipsters and people who want to drink at 10.15 in the morning, the traditional kick-off time for the team’s home fixtures. To have seen the ground packed when Viktoria won one of their seven Czech cups, or when they pushed Slavia for the championship in the early 2000s, must have been to witness an intimidating and raucous venue for away sides. They even have a title to their name, though it was won in 1927-28, when they used a different ground.
Vitorka’s (as they are affectionately known) recent history has been more troubled: forced relegation due to financial problems then battles in the lower divisions, though successive mid-table finishes in the second division have brought some stability.
A season of struggle?
On the morning of my visit, they were due to face another B team: the youthful reserves of Banik Ostrava, who had yet to win in their three previous outings that season. Zizkov had had one win and had also progressed in the Czech Cup, so a home victory looked a reasonable expectation.
This proved wishful thinking within a few minutes of kick-off. Viktoria, despite the noisy but harmless looking Ultras roaring them on, looked disjointed and leaden-footed, while the well organised opposition began ripping through them almost at will. A disastrous back pass from the Ecuadorian captain Batioja was seized on and coolly finished for 1-0. Ten minutes of incessant pressure from the visitors brought a second, before they added a third on 34 minutes. Viktoria huffed and puffed but never looked like responding.
The second half brought more of the same: Ostrava extended their lead, Zizkov pulled one back, and the game could easily have ended 7-1 if the visitors had taken their chances.
A long season of struggle may await Viktoria, but despite the disappointment of this defeat, nothing can detract from the charm and atmosphere of this shabby but wonderful arena.
This still feels like a genuine local community club, punching above its weight and barely keeping its head above water, yet remaining the pride of the “people’s republic of Zizkov”, as proclaimed on banners and stickers around this throwback of a place. Above all, it illustrates the loyalty of the locals, whose reward, unlike the Sparta supporters, is not going to be numerous trophies but the simple pleasure of seeing their district represented bravely and stubbornly on the football map.
CLICK HERE TO DONATE TO OUR CROWDFUNDER
HELP US BECOME STRONGER SO THAT WE CAN CONTINUE TO DELIVER POWERFUL CITIZEN JOURNALISM!
