FLORENCE, Italy — While the rest of Europe is glued to the Euro 2016 football championship, Florentines are spending June bellowing support for bands of bare-chested ruffians engaged in bouts of brawling, bruising and bare-knuckle bashing in what’s probably the world’s most brutal ball game.

It goes by the name of calcio storico.

That translates as historic soccer, but this muscle-bound mayhem from the Renaissance era is the ancestor of modern football in all its forms — American, Association, Aussie rules and both forms of rugby.

For Florentines, it’s as deeply engrained in the culture of their city as Michelangelo, Machiavelli or snacking on tripe-filled panini.

“It’s the soul of Florence,” explained Giorgio, hawking T-shirts for the blue team ahead of last Sunday’s semi-final, declining to give his full name as he cast an eye over cops strolling past his cash-only stall. “This is about us giving the finger to those who wanted to f--k us over.”

Calcio storico’s status as a symbol of Florentine civic pride and bravado dates back to 1530, when the city was under siege by the army of Emperor Charles V. Despite food shortages and outbreaks of plague, Florence’s city leadership went ahead with a match in full view of the enemy troops.

“We showed them we weren’t bothered,” said Alessandro Pippolo Livi, a brawny IT manager, hoping to make the blue team for next year’s games. “We mocked them, we made fun of them, we showed them we Florentines were the strongest. It also kept our soldiers in form.”

One person very familiar with that tale of Florentine defiance is the city’s most prominent modern-day politician — Prime Minister Matteo Renzi, who is currently battling to reform Italy’s constitution and persuade EU leaders to grant his country some budgetary slack. Florence-born Renzi presided over calcio storico contests during his stint as mayor from 2009 to 2014.

Settling scores

Today's matches are still prefaced by a pageant of trumpet blasting, flag waving and parading about by folk in Renaissance garb, but any illusion that this is a folksy reconstruction to amuse tourists is quickly dispelled when the teams take the pitch.

Each side has 27 players. Most are naked above their baggy striped britches, displaying heavily tattooed musculatures pumped up to make Michelangelo’s David look like a wimp. Shaved scalps are preferred, although there are some occasional mohawks.

Seconds into last Sunday’s semi-final between the reds and blues, a dozen fist-fights raged.

Within 10 minutes, two players had been stretched off. Another was hobbling with what looked like a serious leg injury, two soldiered on after bloody head wounds were bandaged. A player staggered back into the fray after a furious argument with a paramedic who suggested his blow to the head was cause for an early retirement.

'Games used to start and end on the pitch, but these days things spill over' — Lorenzo Meiattini, supporter

“I’ve been wanting to see this for years,” said Joe, a beefed-up native of New Jersey, who flew to Florence from his workplace “somewhere in the Balkans” especially to watch. “The history behind it, the grit behind it, you know, 27 guys just going at it, just beating the hell out of each other … I’m excited to finally be here.”

Things were worse the previous Saturday at the game between the whites and the greens, when a mass punch-up erupted after the final whistle. Dozens of fans pitched in and fighting spilled over into surrounding streets.

“Things have gotten a bit ugly over the years,” acknowledged blues supporter Lorenzo Meiattini. “Games used to start and end on the pitch, but these days things spill over. Things are said and done before the games that leave scores to be settled.”

The rules are simple. Teams representing Florence’s four historic neighborhoods can use almost any means to get a ball into nets run along the end of the pitch guarded by their opponents.

Just three games are played each year, on a sand-covered pitch laid out in the piazza beneath the magnificent marble facade of Santa Croce church and a towering statue of medieval poet Dante Alighieri.

'In the blood'

In last weekend’s semi-finals, the whites of the Santo Spirito district overcame the Greens of San Giovanni; and the blues of Santa Croce defeated red-shirted Santa Maria Novella. The blues and whites face off in the final on June 24.

The games unleash seemingly contradictory passions — a collective pride in the city and fierce rivalries between the historic neighborhoods, or quartieri.

“The rivalry between quartieri will always be there,” said Meiattini. “But calcio storico represents common values for all Florentines. It’s something they carry within them wherever they go in the world, it’s something that transcends divisions, a shared identity.”

In the blue section of the bleachers in Sunday’s game, fan passion was as intense as at any soccer derby. Santa Croce supporters hurled colorful insults at their red-clad rivals, ignited smoke bombs to release acrid blue clouds, chanted “whack them, blues” throughout the game.

When the red fans unveiled a banner suggesting Santa Croce’s blue-with-a-yellow-cross flag had been borrowed from IKEA, blues fans unleashed a torrent of abuse inviting the reds to partake in some potentially uncomfortable sexual activity.

After some particularly violent encounters, the rules were adjusted by city hall in 2008, notably to exclude anybody recently convicted of murder, kidnapping or certain other serious crimes; and outlawing kicks to the head, stamping on players while they are laying on the ground or holding an opponent while your teammates beat him.

Apart from that almost anything goes. “Too small for what we usually call a war, too cruel for a sport,” was the verdict of French King Henry III after watching a match in 1575.

It may be a long way from what soccer fans call "the beautiful game," but in may ways calcio storico harks back to a nobler sporting age.

This game has no substitutions. Wounded warriors struggle on.

There’s no intrusive corporate sponsorship. Players are dedicated to their neighborhood rather than switching clubs for the highest bidder. Instead of multi-million euro contracts, participants risk broken bones — or worse — for free. Traditionally the winning team’s only reward is to share out meat from a calf raised in Tuscany’s famed cattle country.

“Motivation comes from inside. It’s in the blood, it’s carnal,” said Meiattini. “It’s about living together, shared experiences, neighborhood identity.”

On the sand of Piazza Santa Croce, there’s none of the histrionics, diving and faked injuries that mar modern soccer. This game has no substitutions. Wounded warriors struggle on.

Among the fans, opinion is divided over whether victory for their ‘hood in calcio storico means more than Italy continuing its winning ways in Euro 2016, following Monday’s success against Belgium.

"You can’t compare, it’s something completely different,” said factory worker and blues fan Jacopo Brazzini.

Aspiring player Pippolo Livi, however, has no doubts: “Florentines don’t feel very Italian, above all we’re proud to be Florentine.”

“Calcio storico is up here,” he said, reaching above his samurai-style topknot. “Fiorentina, here,” he added, placing the city’s Serie A soccer club roughly at the level of his bushy beard. “Italy” was around the hem of his Santa Croce blue shirt.