Euro 2000 final - Rotterdam... or anywhere.

July 2 2020.  The day of the Euro 2000 final in Rotterdam.  A tournament that I was lucky enough to have tickets for.  Games in Bruges and Amsterdam for the group games whetted the appetite but tickets for the final was a once in a lifetime opportunity.  As the tournament progressed and Italy went further it crossed my mind that I could actually see the Azzuri in a major international tournament, and the final would be the icing on the cake.  

Just the small matter of beating the host nation Holland stood in the way, and the odds were heavily stacked against them.  It went to a penalty shootout and the Azzuri had done it... they were in a major final and I would be there.

A flight into Amsterdam then a train to Rotterdam gave enough time to spend the day soaking up the atmosphere in the city centre. The day had such a buzz about it and fans mingled all over the city, not many people asked about my Wigan Athletic shirt.  This was the pre Premier League era and  'Little Wigan' were still relatively unknown in Italian and French homes.

On the quest for food my mate and I walked past restaurant after restaurant until we literally reached the ‘Other Side of the Tracks’.  We had hit the roughest part of Rotterdam and hastily retreated before anyone spotted us, and made it back to the relative safety of the French fans.

We then took the tram to De Kuip ( and sat behind ex Arsenal striker Alan Smith), and went into the stadium to find our seats were in the Italian end. It was written in the stars...

France ,who had beaten Italy on penalties two years before in the World Cup quarter-finals on the way to winning the World Cup, once again stood in the way.

When the opposition is Italy, however, with their revolving door of gifted players and steely resolve, it was never going to be easy.

Managed by Dino Zoff, this Azzurri side was efficient and compact, staying true to the old-school Catenaccio tactics, having conceded only two goals so far in the tournament.  They weren’t about to roll over for anyone. 

Finals are often nervous affairs with neither side wanting to make an early mistake. The fear of losing can far outweigh the desire to win. Italy were underdogs, but they produced a far more expansive display than had been anticipated and dominated possession for large spells.  

The game started furiously. Italy had plenty of early pressure with Roma’s Marco Delvecchio proving a nuisance up-front. Henry provided the French threat, unleashing a couple of trademark snapshots before being on the receiving end of several friendly tackles from the Italian midfield, the chief culprit among them being Luigi Di Biagio. 

But in truth, the final didn’t come alive until the second half when, in the 53rd minute, a moment of genius blew the final wide open.   Delvecchio – who was selected by manager Dino Zoff at the expense of both Alessandro Del Piero and Filippo Inzaghi - broke the deadlock.

The goal was orchestrated by the man who had provided Italy’s offensive creativity throughout the tournament - Francesco Totti.  With his back to goal just outside of the penalty area, and with seemingly little in the way of passing possibilities, Totti paused and drew in two French defenders before executing an inch-perfect backheeled through-ball that set Gianluca Pessotto free on the wing with France’s offside trap completely fooled. Pessotto’s accurate cross was guided in on the volley by Delvecchio.

Now, Italy had to protect their lead for 35 minutes – and injury time – to win their first European Championship for 32 years.  Zoff sent on Del Piero to act as a focal point for counter-attacks, and his plan proved effective as the substitute was sent clear on goal twice in the closing minutes. 

The striker, however, was somehow unable to hit the net on either occasion, putting one shot wide and hitting the other straight at Fabian Barthez.  He was left to rue those misses when, 15 seconds from the final whistle, substitute Sylvain Wiltord slid a 94th-minute equaliser underneath a despairing Francesco Toldo.

With 13 minutes of extra time played, the Italy defence was caught uncharacteristically playing around with possession deep in their own half.   Robert Pires nipped in and danced past two tackles on the left wing before dinking in a cross from close to the byline.   Striker David Trezeguet, who had recently signed for Juventus to become Del Piero’s new team-mate, was to be the man who crashed home to win the match and break Italian hearts.

For many, this was unfairly heralded as a victory of good over evil due to Zoff’s reliance on conservative tactics – ones that had been so successful in getting the Azzurri to the final. 

20 years on, Del Piero himself still says “Losing in the final really hurts, but that’s how life goes, We then played against France [in the final who we’d played] on a number of other competitions, where we had the opportunity to get even. Losing that match certainly hurt."

Del Piero says that the defeat still rankles and remains at a loss to explain how Italy threw the match away.

“I don’t know, even now,” he says. “When you lose matches like that, and the opposition scores the equaliser in the last minute, and then scores the golden goal, it blows your mind. It is really awful, you don’t want to believe it.

"From then on we had to face reality: we came really close to realising a dream, which did not come true. You wake up the day after, and try to be the best because, despite the previous match, you have to think about the future."

The Euros haven't been kind to Italy since then.   They failed to get out of the group stages in 2004, losing out on goal difference to Denmark.  In 2008 they lost on penalties in the Quarter finals to eventual winners Spain and faced the Spanish again in the 2012 final, but lost 4-0 in Kiev.

Italy gained a smidgen of revenge on Spain by eliminating them from the 2016 tournament in the Round of 16, but a quarter final defeat on penalties to Germany sent the Azzuri home early again.

21 years on from the despair in Rotterdam, can Italy finally go one better and be called the Best Team in Europe?  It will be a very tough task but one which always brings the best out of the Azzuri.

Ultras by Tobias Jones

I have just finished reading this comprehensive book which focuses on the Italian Ultra scene and sheds light on the whole Ultra phenomenon.  


Ultras are often compared to punks, Hell’s Angels, hooligans or the South American Barras Bravas but they are a truly Italian entity.

In the late 60s and early 70s, teenage football fans rebelled against Italy’s sedate supporters’ clubs and went to stand, and sing, behind the goal. 

The word “ultra” implies “extreme”, “beyond” or “other”.  At its foundation, the movement was largely far-left, with names inspired by global partisan struggles. Petty criminals and political extremists were drawn to the terraces’ carnival atmosphere and the huge customer base. Most ultra groups are now fascist in inspiration and many have overlapped with organised crime. 

Ultras are comparable to, but different from, British football hooligans. They relish drinking and fighting, but are much more hierarchical and disciplined, with a sober strategic analysis of the group’s sporting, and economic, interests. Despite their reputation, there are ultra groups that are inspiring, charitable and inclusive.

Italy’s ultras are the most organised and violent fans in European football. 

Many groups have evolved into criminal gangs, involved in ticket touting, drug dealing and murder. The book identifies two of the biggest clubs in Italy as being the main players. The Irriducibili (The Die – Hards) of Lazio and The Drughi (taken from the Droogs of A Clockwork Orange) of Juventus.

In August 2019, the death of Fabrizio Piscitelli, the notorious former boss of Lazio’s Irriducibili, ended a 30-year career of thuggery, crime and extremism . He was nicknamed “Diabolik”, after a cartoon thief and assassin.

A man dressed as a jogger – wearing a cap and neck-scarf – ran past the bench and fired a 7.65 calibre pistol into Piscitelli’s left ear. He died almost instantly, sliding off the bench as the murderer ran off. It had all the hallmarks of a professional hit.

The murder brought to a close one of the most incredible careers in the history of Lazio’s ultras. The club’s fanbase has always been very politicised: during Italy’s “years of lead” (its extremist terrorism) in the 1970s, it was very common to see, among the white-and-sky-blue colours of Lazio supporters, many of Benito Mussolini’s symbols. It was an era in which Lazio Ultras became both victims and perpetrators of political assassinations.

The purist ultras, however, say they are insurgents fighting against a police state and modern football.  Only amongst ultras, they say, can you find belonging, community and a sacred concept of sport.  They champion not only their teams, but their forgotten suburbs.

Telling the story through the ultras, Tobias Jones crafts a compelling investigation into Italian society and its favourite sport. He writes about not just the ultras of some of Italy’s biggest clubs – Juventus, Torino, Lazio, Roma and Genoa -  but also about its lesser known ones from Cosenza and Catania.

The main thread throughout the book is the author going in search of a rounded picture, and Jones immersed himself in the world of the Cosenza ultras of Calabria, chiefly because they were a group that had always rejected fascism. The Cosenza ultras, cheerfully named I Nuclei Sconvolti (The Deranged Nuclei) are a riveting read. With nicknames like Drainpipe, Boozy Suzy, Chill and Skinny Monica they are colourfully portrayed.

But all are eclipsed by Padre Fadele, the monk who takes them all under his wing and encourages them to help immigrants and the homeless in soup kitchens.  He even leads the chanting at most home games. 

While the Cosenza ultras continue to dish out soup, the ‘Ndrangheta (Calabrian mafia) controlled Juve ultras, I Gobbi (the hunchbacks) are busy touting tickets received from the club in a blackmailed fuelled deal, threatening ground closing riots and supporters’ strikes if their demands are not met.

In a sinister nod to neo-fascist politics, the Gobbi banner is inscribed with its Bs back to front, so as to resemble 88, fascist code for HH (Heil Hitler).  

Quite a journey of fandom but a riveting read nonetheless.  

S.P.A.L. on the march

 

I wrote an article last year about the possibility of Crotone getting promoted to Serie A, which they did, and the trend of ‘unfashionable’ clubs earning the right to play against the big boys. Well, it looks like it may happen again this season as one team are currently in the automatic promotion places in Serie B as we approach the business end once again.

S.P.A.L. 2013, better known as Società Polisportiva Ars et Labor (or simply SPAL) are based in Ferrara, Emilia-Romagna. They have played there home matches since 1928 at Stadio Paolo Mazza, named after Paolo Mazza (chairman of the club from 1946 to 1977).

The club was founded in 1907 as Circolo Ars et Labor by the Salesian priest Pietro Acerbis, then was renamed in 1913 as Società Polisportiva Ars et Labor.

They are the club that gave legendary Italian coach Fabio Capello his first taste of professional football at the tender age of 18 during a halcyon period when the club had a regular place in the top flight of Italian football. Under the stewardship of President Paolo Mazza, the Biancazzurri finished fifth in Serie A in the 1959-60 season and contested the Italian cup final in 1962 narrowly losing 2-1 to Napoli, having crushed Juventus 4-1 in the semi-final.

Former players reads like a who’s who of Italian football - Edy Reja, Carlo Mazzone, Osvaldo Bagnoli, Armando Picchi, Ottavio Bianchi and Luigi Del Neri have all plyed their trade with the Biancazzurri.

Reja and Capello were an intrinsic part of the team’s midfield during the mid sixties and both were later honoured for their achievements at the club’s centenary celebrations in 2007.  Bianchi was the man who brought Maradona to Napoli and centre-half Carlo Mazzone coached Ascoli, Roma and Brescia.  Osvaldo Bagnoli on the other hand, will forever be remembered as the tactician who masterminded the glorious 1985 scudetto winning team from Verona , the last time a provincial side got their hands on Italian football’s biggest prize.
 

Stadio Paolo Mazza

 

 

But as the 1970’s began, SPAL’s fortunes took a turn for the worse and the club suffered successive relegations to find itself cut adrift in the barren wastelands of Serie C.  Towards the end of the decade and Mazza’s reign at the helm, SPAL managed to claw back up to Serie B but by the start of the eighties it had returned to the lower reaches where it has stayed ever since, apart from an all too brief return to Serie B in 1992. By now financial mismanagement was starting to catch up with the club from Ferrara and in 2005 it was declared bankrupt.

The saviour came in the shape of businessman Gianfranco Tomasi and the club was renamed SPAL1907. By the time of their centenary in 2007, the club’s very existence was again in jeopardy and as former players returned to Ferrara to mark the special occasion, it served as a harsh reminder to their loyal followers of just how much the club had given to the game in Italy and just how bad things had become.

In the summer of 2012, after suffering a second bankruptcy, the club was refounded for the third time as Società Sportiva Dilettantistica Real S.P.A.L. and would begin life in Serie D.

In July 2013, SPAL merged with the other local club in Ferrara, Giacomense, owned by the Colombarini family.

The new team, born from the merger, was named S.P.A.L 2013, with the Colombarini’s transferring the structure of Giacomense to SPAL with Walter Mattioli stepping in as the new club president.

Under the new management, the Biancazurri quickly found their feet and, with two promotions in three seasons, they restored the football pride in the city of Ferrara as new ambitions arise with fans already dreaming big.

Coach Leonardo Semplici enjoys an attacking brand of football and, along with President Mattioli, has stated that the club’s strategy doesn’t involve big spending, but rather developing certain ideas and programs to make a competitive team with a humble identity that relies on, above all, teamwork.

Promotion from Lego Pro was secured last season and the club’s first campaign in Serie B for over 25 years was meant to be one of consolidation.  Little did they know that, with goals from ex Leeds man Mirco Antenucci, Milan loanee Gianmarco Zigoni and veteran ex Lazio man Sergio Floccari then the dream may well become a reality.

The Story of Calcio Storico

 

 

Calcio fiorentino (also known as calcio storico "historic football") is an early form of football that originated in 16th-century Italy. Once widely played, the sport is thought to have originated in the Piazza Santa Croce in Florence. Here it became known as the giuoco del calcio fiorentino ("Florentine kick game") or simply calcio; which is now also the name for association football in the Italian language. The game may have started as a revival of the Roman sport of harpastum.

Calcio was reserved for rich aristocrats who played every night between Epiphany and Lent. Even popes, such as Clement VII, Leo XI and Urban VIII were known to play the sport in Vatican City. The games were known to get violent as teams vied with each other to score goals. In a historically famous occasion, the city of Florence held a match on February 17, 1530, in defiance of the imperial troops sent by Charles V, as the city was under siege. In 1574 Henry III of France attended a game of "bridge fighting" – put on in his honour during a visit to Venice; the king is recorded as saying: "Too small to be a real war and too cruel to be a game".

Over the centuries, there have been numerous sources that testify to the presence of the Calcio Storico Fiorentino as early as the 15th century. The Florentines usually found themselves in the streets of the city or in the main squares starting matches like the ones you can see today during the re-enactment. The occupation of public spaces by young people was regulated, later, to avoid disturbances and problems in the organisation of the city; in this way the squares became the officially designated places to play football. The balls were often handmade with the outside made of leather and the interior filled with rags or sometimes with animal bladders filled with air.

Throughout the Medici age, what had been a popular pastime was reorganised and became a discipline practiced by the noble classes. Florence began to be the scene of numerous clashes between the people, often divided into teams, and headed by the most illustrious personalities of the Florentine families. The noble character gave rise to the term of Football in Livery, referring to the livery and elegant clothes worn by the players. The official rules of calcio were published for the first time in 1580 by Giovanni de' Bardi, a Florentine count.

The period designated for the games was generally that of Carnival; the famous game on 17th February 1530 in particular went down in history, when Florence was besieged by the army of Charles V. The Florentines, despite the seriousness of the situation, started nonetheless the Calcio Florentino game in Piazza Santa Croce!

The Calcio Storico Fiorentino players could, therefore, take revenge on those nobles who lived the game as an aesthetic moment in which to show off their precious clothes thereby losing the recreational and authentic aspect from which this street sport was born. The citizens of the aristocratic families, in fact, organised the games in the most important parts of Florence and added that a procession in honour of the race. Residents were invited to attend as spectators to watch from the stands built around the city square. All the districts of the Calcio Storico Fiorentino participate in the parade, although the final only includes two teams.

 

Piazza Santa Croce

Interest in Calcio  waned in the early 17th century. However, in 1930 it was reorganized as a game in Kingdom of Italy under Mussolini. The game was widely played by amateurs in streets and squares using handmade balls made of cloth or animal skin^. Today, three matches are played each year in Piazza Santa Croce in Florence in the 3rd week of June. A team from each quartiere of the city is represented:

• Santa Croce / Azzurri (Blues)
• Santa Maria Novella / Rossi (Reds)
• Santo Spirito / Bianchi (Whites)
• San Giovanni / Verdi (Greens)

After playing each other in two opening games, the two overall winners go into the final which occurs each year on June 24; this is San Giovanni (St. John)'s Day, the Patron Saint of Florence. The modern version of calcio allows tactics such as head-butting, punching, elbowing, and choking but sucker punches and kicks to the head are banned. It is also prohibited for more than one player to attack an opponent. Any violation leads to being thrown out of the game.

Matches last 50 minutes and are played on a field covered in sand, twice as long as it is wide ( approximately 80x40 meters ). A white line divides the field into two identical squares, and a goal net runs the width of each end. Each team has 27 players and no substitutions are allowed for injured or expelled players. The teams are made up of four Datori indietro (goalkeepers), 3 Datori innanzi (fullbacks), 5 Sconciatori (halfbacks), 15 Innanzi o Corridori (forwards). The Captain and Standard Bearer's tent sits at the centre of the goal net. They do not actively participate in the game, but can organise their teams and sometimes act as referees, mainly to calm down their players or to stop fights.

The referee and his six linesmen referee the match in collaboration with the Judge Commissioner, who remains off the field. The referee, above everyone else, is the Master of the Field. He makes sure the games runs smoothly, stepping into the field only to maintain discipline and reestablish order in case of a fight on the field.

The game starts when the Pallaio  throws and kicks the ball towards the centre line, then at the first whistle and at first the ball rests on field, 15 forwards or Corridori begin fighting in a wild mixed martial arts match- punching, kicking, tripping, hacking, tackling, and wrestling with each other in an effort designed to tire opponents' defences, but which often descends into an all-out brawl, trying to put, pin down, force to submit as many players possible; once there are enough incapacitated players, the other teammates come and swoop up the ball and head to the goal. Then followed by a small cannon firing; the shot announces the beginning of the contest.

From this moment on, the players try by any means necessary to get the ball into the opponents' goal also called caccia. The teams change sides with every caccia or goal scored. It's important to shoot with precision, because every time a player throws or kicks the ball above the net, the opposing team is awarded with half a caccia. The game ends after 50 minutes and the team which scored the most cacce wins.

The prize is also interesting, because along with the Palio di Siena, the winning team used to receive a Chianina, a type of cow. However, the prize has been reduced to a free dinner for the winning team; the players earn no other compensation.   

More popular than ever, Calcio Storico Fiorentino has kept the form of a historical event amongst the most important ones of the city and region.

 

The Anglo Italian Cup

The Checkatrade Trophy has taken its fair share of stick this season, and rightly so. But another tournament caused a stir a few decades ago and was kindly put out of its misery.

The initial Anglo-Italian Cup was played as an annual tournament from 1970 to 1973. The first final was abandoned early due to violence, with Swindon Town declared the winners. During its time the tournament had a reputation for violence between fans, but it returned as a semi-professional tournament from 1976 before it was abolished again in 1986.

In 1992, the Anglo-Italian Cup was re-established as a professional cup for second tier clubs - it replaced the English Full Members Cup.  Strictly professional, and open to clubs from Serie B in Italy and the Endsleigh Insurance Football League in England, the competition reverted back to its original name and format. 

Scheduled to be played throughout the domestic season, it felt like a proper cup competition.  This version of the Cup ran for four seasons, until 1996, before being discontinued due to fixture congestion.

 

 

 

 

It did have a certain romance about it (on paper at least), no other club competition in the world could throw together potential couples such as; Pisa v Middlesborough, Portsmouth v Fiorentina, and Blackpool v Verona.

Following a slightly odd English-only preliminary round, the traditional fixtures between two groups of four, an English semi-final, Italian semi-final and Anglo-Italian final, March 27, 1993, saw Derby County outclassed by Cremonese at Wembley Stadium. An impressive crowd of 37,024 saw the Italians prevail 3-1. The Anglo-Italian Cup was back.

In one of his last games before leaving for Barcelona, George Hagi helped Brescia dispose of Notts County in the 1993-94 final. In front of just over 17,000 fans at Wembley, under half of the previous year’s attendance, interest appeared to be waning again.

While attendance figures were down, more worryingly, the number of headlines reporting Anglo-Italian crowd violence was up. With the Hillsborough disaster and the tragic events at Heysel painfully fresh in the memory, crowd control and crowd behaviour were under scrutiny. Away from the cameras and spotlight of top-flight fixtures, too many fans were using the Anglo-Italian Cup as an excuse to release some pent upanger and aggression. Also hampering the competitions existence, were a number of clubs complaining at the number of fixtures.

In what was a second to last throw of the Anglo-Italian dice, Notts County went one better in 1994-95, defeating an Ascoli side including Oliver Bierhoff, 2-1.


The Anglo-Italian cup took its final bow in 1995-96. Genoa triumphed 5-2 in a Wembley final against Port Vale while the group stages had thrown up some truly unique match-ups in which both Brescia and Salernitana won on a cold and wet night in Stoke, Southend Utd went as far south as Salernitana, Ipswich Town rolled back the European glory years as they hosted Reggiana, and Luton Town were thrashed by Perugia and Genoa. It was nonsensical, naughty, and yet oddly captivating.

Joe Baker - A Brit Abroad

Joe Baker

 Joe Baker was an English international footballer. He was the first player to have played for England without having previously played in the English football league system and for scoring over 100 goals in both the English and Scottish leagues.

Born in Liverpool to Scottish parents on 17 July 1940, Baker’s life on the move began almost from birth.  The son of a sailor, he moved from Merseyside to the Scottish border town of Wishaw, Lanarkshire when he was six weeks old.

He remained in Scotland for the remainder of his childhood - and many would claim his international affinity would have been more closely suited to the tartan of Scotland than England.

He spoke with a broad Scottish accent, but Baker’s club career could actually have begun in England. He spent a month on trial at Chelsea but was not offered a permanent contract.

After that Baker returned to Scotland and in 1957 joined Edinburgh side Hibernian, where he remained for four years.

It was during that first period that Baker decided to move on from Hibs and experience football in another league – but it would not be in England.

Instead, the diminutive forward opted for a move to Italy and Serie A, where he joined fellow Brit, and some may say ‘fellow Scot’, Denis Law at Torino.

In 1961, Baker was transferred to Torino for £75,000, after the Hibs board refused to give him a £5 wage increase from his existing wage of £12 a week.  Despite scoring a winning goal in a Turin derby match against Juventus, his time at the Italian club was short and almost ended in tragedy. Baker was involved in a serious car crash, which meant that he needed life-saving surgery and spent over a month on a drip feed.  

It was a generally unhappy spell as Baker did not like the press intrusion, which meant that he and teammate Denis Law spent most of their time in their Turin apartment.

 

Law, Peronace and Baker

 It is fair to say the time spent in Italy was on mixed for Baker and he struggled to make an impact.

There were off-the-field incidents with paparazzi – including one infamous incident where he knocked one unfortunate member of the press into a Venetian canal.  His tumultuous time in Turin came to an end in 1962

It was a prolific career for the striker, who upon leaving for Torino in 1961 had notched up an impressive tally of 102 in 117 league games, and 159 goals in all competitions – and famously once scoring all four goals in a 4-3 Scottish Cup victory over city rivals Hearts.

In later years he represented Nottingham Forest, Sunderland, Hibernian again and Raith Rovers – as well as two brief stints in charge of Albion Rovers.

Baker passed away in 2003 at the age of 63.

 

Below is an article, written by Baker, for Charles Buchan’s Football Monthly, in December 1961. In it, he talks about his experience in Italy and the reasons he went there.

My Life in Italy by Joe Baker

“JOHN CHARLES, apparently, is thinking of making this his last season in Italian football. Well, big John has had a good run there, and perhaps he has had enough. Jimmy Greaves? Somehow things don’t seem to have worked out for him. I had hoped he would settle in as Denis Law and I have done. Our combined verdict on this still-new-to-us life in Italy is … it’s terrific!

Perhaps we have been lucky. But even when I saw the advantage of moving to Italy—mostly financial, of course—I never dreamed it would be anything like it is. Where in Scotland—or England—would a team get home from an away game at 2am…to find a packed railway platform with thousands, yes, thousands, of fans waiting to greet them? It happened to us.

I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Or where would you find, for an ordinary club practice match, more than 7,000 fans yelling their heads off at a goal in such a game? That’s Italy … and Italian Soccer fans!

Italian football? Well, I’m living and learning and, having had one sobering taste of discipline, I can say I’m really beginning to understand the differences between the way we played it at home and how I have to now.

What one has to get used to, particularly as a centre-forward is much closer marking than at home. I call the wing-half, left or right, who has to mark me, the “gluepot”.

The system in Italy is for the centre-half to lie behind the entire defence, on patrol for trouble. Thus I have a wing-half covering me.

Italian football is rather more defensive than ours. This is especially true of visiting teams for the idea is to try to hold a point. That is a generalisation, teams do vary in style to some extent. I don’t mind the closer marking now, particularly as alongside me there is Law.

If I can lure my “shadow” for a “walk” it creates a space which Denis can move into with the result he alone can bring.

I suppose the recent scenes in the match between Roma and Birmingham have had people at home throwing up their hands and exclaiming: “Those foreigners, the way they play football!”

I wasn’t at that game. That same night I was playing for Torino against Manchester City at Maine Road where, l am proud to say, the Baker brothers, Gerry for City and I, got four goals between us, with a crowd of relatives looking on.

Let me say this about the differences in the game back home and in Italy. It took me some time to get over the checking and obstruction. But you do NOT hope to get the crash-bang tackling which we so readily accept back home.

And you do NOT get the injuries, at least nothing like the serious ones, as you do in British football. A player breaking a leg in Italy is unheard of, yet it is almost a weekly happening at home. So, rules or no rules, there is something to be said for the way the Continental game is played.

I was niggled when I first met the obstruction tactics. I got to such a pitch that, against Lanerossi, I wasn’t able to control myself. To my regret I took a swing at an opponent and was sent off for the automatic two-game suspension. May I add that I was more than normally provoked.

Until that day I had never had a referee even question my game, wherever I had played. It was a bitter lesson, but I learned from it.

Training in Italy is very different from that at home, and nothing like as hard. We have the heat to contend with, of course, and it would be foolish to train as I used to do. But discipline is far more strict.

We train mostly in the late afternoon. We can go to the ground in the morning for showers, but the main session begins later. It comes easy to me. No lapping. When you run it is part of an exercise. And there is far more ball-work, which makes training interesting all the time.

For three nights before a match we have to be in bed by ten-thirty. This is a strict rule which we—Denis, Hugo and l—have no trouble in keeping. I must here introduce Hugo. But for him I might not be out here. We are cousins, have been pals for years.

When Torino came for me I realised that the toughest part of the move would be that of being on my own, knowing nothing of the language. So Torino took Hugo, too. It is written into my contract that he stays with me—Denis Law hadn’t signed then.

Now Hugo has a job in a local insurance. We three share a flat but soon we hope to move into a handsome villa, overlooking the city. Another club training rule which is different from any at home is that we must, repeat MUST, sleep for two hours before a game. At first I scorned this. I wasn’t used to it and had difficulty in dropping off.

Now I know it is an excellent idea, and they have to knock extra loud to waken me. I feel better for it and more ready to go when the time comes. Before a big game we may be collected together in a hotel for days to ensure that we get maximum rest.

There are no language difficulties at our pre-match talks because Gigi Peronace is usually around to translate for Denis and I. But even without him I don’t think we would be hampered. Soccer tactics scan to have a universal language.

A word about fans. The Italian types, for all their fanaticism, are not the fierce partisans that the Scots are. And they are funny in their way.

For instance, those practice games at which they will turn up in force … it shook me to hear practice goals getting an ovation, particularly when some of these games are defence v attack, with seven players on the attacking side!

Possibly because we are fair-haired, Denis Law and I are easily spotted when we are out in town. And we are still something of a novelty. But it is fatal for us to stop if we are taking a stroll.

Before we know where we are a great crowd surges round, some for autographs, but mostly they just stand and stare! It can be very embarrassing, too, to be having a meal and to look round to see dozens of fans pressed against the restaurant window. But it is all very friendly.

My greatest night so far is the one when we beat Juventus, our greatest rivals. I managed to sneak past John Charles to get the winner. You should have seen what happened afterwards!

For hours that evening the traffic was at a dead stop. Thousands of Torino fans filed behind a boy tolling a most mournful bell as he led a series of black coffins with the word “Juventus” on one and the names of Charles and other Juventus players on the them!

That gives you an idea of the fantastically fervid atmosphere for soccer in Italy. To me, a new boy and a foreigner, it is a big challenge. But it is simply great and I haven’t had a moment of regret about my move.”

Euro Totti

The Man.The Legend. It'sTotti

As Euro 2016 begins, my mind is taken back to the summer of 2000. This summer was to be my first, and only, experience of a major football tournament as I, along with a mate, decided to apply for tickets in the ballot for Euro 2000 in Holland and Belgium and see where it got us.

Well, the ballot was a success and we were rewarded with tickets for group games in Bruges, Liege and Amsterdam as well as the final in Rotterdam. As the tournament got closer, anticipation built and we, more than anything, looked forward to the final and hoped England would make it (yes I know, I know….but I was young and naïve etc etc).

We were based in Antwerp for a few days taking in the charm of this lovely city and, after getting my first taste of proper Belgian lager, travelled to our first game in Bruges, France v Denmark. Yep, we’d managed to get tickets to see the World Champions…Zidane, Henry, Barthez, Blanc et al. I spent most of the match just watching the greatest player I have ever seen on a football pitch, the mercurial Zidane…at the peak of his powers.

France on the attack v Denmark in Bruges

Sadly, we never made it into the centre of Bruges as our train into the city was met by Police who ushered us onto buses straight to the ground. Our bus was full of vociferous Danish fans on the journey to the ground, and they barely noticed our 1999/2000 edition Wigan Athletic shirts, which could easily have been mistaken for French tops from a distance ( or if they all had bad eyesight etc) .

WHAT IF THEY HAD KNIVES I HEAR YOU CRY...

Thirteen years later some 2,500 inebriated Wiganers made the same journey, but I bet you never got chatted up by four female* Charlton fans eh? I know who the winner of this competition is …* they were all a bit butch.

France won the game easily with goals from Blanc, Henry and Wiltord. Henry’s goal was class, he got the ball on the halfway line and 3 touches later it nestled in Schmeichel’s net.

Our next scheduled game was Germany v Romania in Liege, but that same day England played Portugal so we decided to scrap the game and watch England instead…..England lost 3-2!! But on the plus side we spend the night drinking copious amounts of Duvel and Kwak so we’ll call it a draw.

Amsterdam Arena

Before we were due to head to Amsterdam for our next scheduled game, we were drinking in the centre of Antwerp and as we came out of the pub a familiar face was walking across the main square. Italian legend Francesco Totti was strolling through Antwerp (with his stunning girlfriend…makes you sick doesn’t it). I whipped my camera out….yes camera… and asked for a photo but he casually ignored me as he chatted on his phone, I took it anyway and the cocky git happened to turn round at the last moment and look straight down the lens. Chuffed to bits with seeing a true icon, we followed him… (I maintain we were going to the next pub and just happened to go in his direction) and spotted him going into an Italian (obviously) restaurant to meet fellow player Demetrio Albertini (again this is just hearsay, we didn’t stick around outside of the restaurant for a bit at all, that would be very sad!!).

Amsterdam was our next stop to take in Spain v Slovenia. After a day sampling the many delights of this city, including a fella knocking on the hotel door asking if we wanted any ‘Charlie’, we politely declined and took in the England – Germany game that night in the city centre and were glad to report that all white plastic chairs were accounted for the morning after.

Raul opening the scoring for Spain v Slovenia

Spain won the game with goals from Raul and Etxeberria in the fabulous Amsterdam Arena, this was a state of the art stadium in 2000, and it still baffles me how the final wasn’t held here in favour of Rotterdam’s De Kuip, which is an inferior stadium in every way.

We headed home in high spirits (Amsterdam has that effect) and counted down the days until our return for the final. England crashed out to end that dream and we watched the tournament unfold as France and Italy made it to the final in Rotterdam.

So off we flew again and spent the day soaking up the atmosphere in the city centre. The day had such a buzz about it and fans mingled all over the city, not many people asked about our Latics shirts, as this was pre Premier League era no-one had heard of Little Wigan.

On our quest for food we walked and walked past restaurant and restaurant until we literally reached the ‘Other Side of the Tracks’. We had hit the roughest part of Rotterdam and hastily retreated before anyone spotted us, and made it back to the relative safety of the French fans.

We arrived at the ground and, after bumping into ex Arsenal striker Alan Smith, took our seats in the Italian end….lucky for me with my love of all things Italian.

The match itself was fairly uneventful, the highlight being the body painted girls who were ‘dancing around a bit’ before the game. Things were going to plan as Italy opened the scoring through Marco Delvecchio, the Azzuri fans were partying and praying for the final whistle.

Dejected Azzuri players after the final

Then it all turned sour for the Italians, Wiltord equalised in injury time and David Trezeguet scored the Golden Goal winner to earn France the European Championship to go with the World Cup. The Italians were shattered, I felt their pain as it is a heartbreaking way to lose any game, never mind when it’s the National Team.

Trezeguet with the winner

We left soon after, hiding our Latics shirts which could have been mistaken for French shirts….WHAT IF THEY HAD KNIVES ETC ETC…and returned home with happy memories of our European adventure.

Allez Les Bleus