A little vignette of this piece will form part of FW editors tales from the magazine’s trip to Milan, but I have buffed it up as my recollection of a day that will live long on my memory.
The Football Weekends magazine 10 (the number in our party) left Milan Centrale on a misty, drizzly mid January Sunday, headed over the regional state-line from Lombardia into Emilia Romagna, and its first port of call on a regional rail trip, Fiorenzuola d’Arda. En route we passed through Lodi where a 4th tier alternative had been suggested, home of Fanfulla, and then we passed through Codogno, the town sighted as where Europe’s Covid outbreak is traced back to. Indeed, whilst it was bubbling under, with local doctors perplexed by the symptoms being presented, that November I changed trains here heading from Piacenza to Cremona and back. I even had a wee trek around the streets killing time ahead of my connection.
Once we were in Fiorenzuola, I knew this town would offer little in the way of intrigue ahead of kick-off, but we obliged with a little jaunt around the central area. I had already clocked that together with Recanati near Ancona, Fiorenzuola is the smallest town to have a professional football team with just 15,000 inhabitants. There is literally nothing of interest in the town, so if you are passing through, the chances are you are just going to a game.
I had forgotten just how quiet an Italian commuter town can be at lunch-time on a Sunday. I am sure military authorities have long taken a note that if you were ever going to invade Italy do it on Sunday! The lack of things to see and do saw the gang headed into one of two bars/restaurants that seemed open, and oddly they were across the road from each other. Beers were roundly ordered, and soon after a delightful plate of tasty bites arrived, a tradition that comes with a drink in certain places in Italy, which was all nicely welcomed and scoffed. I had doubts as to whether catering would be available at the away end, so this doubled up as lunch for me.
US Fiorenzuola are just over 100 years old, having started out in 1922. For a large part of the club’s history they have just dotted about in the amateur levels below Serie C, but in the mid ‘90’s the club were knocking on the door of Serie B, and made the Play Off final, where the Rossoneri (red and blacks) fans headed south in the region to Bologna to meet Pistoiese at the Renato Dall’Ara. The game went to penalties with the Tuscan side coming out on top 4-3. Fiorenzuola also made a reasonable fist of messing up the seeding in the Coppa Italia too, seeing off bigger clubs Brescia and Torino, ahead of hosting Inter Milan, and giving them an uncomfortable ride, only going down 2-1.
That was perhaps the history defining pinnacle of football in Fiorenzuola. The club never recovered from the disappointment of losing that Play Off final, and they gradually drifted down and out of the C categories (there were two back then) through Serie D and into the amateur world of the Regional Eccellenza. Just ahead of the clubs centenary they were back in the third level of Italian football last season for the first time in nearly 20 years. If last season was about steadying at this higher level, 2022/23 started like a freight train, and they briefly led Girone B for a couple of weeks. Serie C is full of bigger hitting clubs and it would take a herculean effort for a club the size of Fiorenzuola to step up, however they will always take encouragement from the likes of Cittadella, who have long established themselves in Serie B with a town size just a little bigger.
The stadium seems to have a variety of names, but the trusty old title Stadio Comunale (capacity 4,000) seems as good as any, after all, the facility is available for track cyclists as well as footballers, with a complete velodrome around the pitch. In his haste to get a quick throw in, a Fiorenzuola player forgot about the steeper gradients and did himself an injury as the plastic studs on his boots made way for a comedy stunt fall. The occasional view of a whizzing by train at one end of the ground on the main Milan to Bologna line would have broken up the monotony in the home stand; goodness they were as quiet as field mice.
With such a small population a relatively small crowd was likely, but that doesn’t excuse the apparent ambivalence of even those present in the ground. It was the second lowest in my now 100 game viewing roster in Italy with just over 400 in attendance, with edging towards half of those on the opposite side of proceedings from Ancona. It was definitely more buoyant on the Ospiti (visitors) side of the stadium, not that we were competing against much more than near comatose. It felt good to be amongst the biancorossi (red and whites) after a six-year hiatus, caused by the pandemic and two bankruptcies. The 100/150 tifosi (fans) had largely journeyed the 3-4 hours to North-West Emila Romagna and were tightly gathered making it feel like a larger group. The singing was jaunty and from minute one until beyond the final whistle we sang, even as the players took the applause from the happy Anconetani at the end. Sometimes when our man with a megaphone asked for direct chanting of his words, the effect was an extraordinary reverberating echo, especially with no atmosphere across the way.
I am sure the Ancona aspect of this encounter added more than a little colour to the stodgy spectacle. The pitch didn’t help, but when the goal came, it was the culmination of the slickest move of the match. A Fiorenzuola lad was dispossessed near the halfway line, and a quick move down the right was met beautifully by Moretti from the cut back and we were in front. Dizzying chaos erupted, my friend Claudio ran down to the fence at the foot of the terraces giving it a rattle in joy. The volume rose, the flags flew wilder, we were on our way.
Ancona should have added a second goal as the home team threw everyone, including the goalkeeper forward in a late bid to salvage a point. Only wayward shooting when a pass would have been the clever option, and then choosing a badly placed pass instead of an accurate one prevented the away side having a more comfortable lead, and inevitably a couple of late Fiorenzuola corners had the Ancona fans feeling a tad twitchy. As it was, when the final whistle went the joy was unbridled on the away side. You have to earn an away win in Italy, and Ancona just about deserved it having toughed one out here, restricting Fiorenzuola to one late registered strike on goal.
It wasn’t a classic, but I was quietly proud that the rest of the FW group saw my team win upon first viewing. This was my 12th Ancona away game spanning 33 years, and it was my first ever away win! By that token alone, it is a day I will never forget. Those headed back to the Marche capital were happy too, results sometimes trump performance, and this was a case of getting the job done, taking the points and running.
There was only one true cheery soul amongst the throwing back in the bar ahead of the train back to Milan amongst the Football Weekend gang, and that was me! I can appreciate the view from the home side was thunderously tedious. It was great pride that I donned my Ancona shirt as we all headed out for a farewell pizza across from our hotel. On Friday night it was represented at the inaugural meet/greet and quiz. It would have meant nothing to any of them then, but post match, another small handful of fans are now familiar with my boys, Ancona, and maybe one or two will keep an eye on them from now on, that would be nice!
Personally I was thrilled to be back watching Ancona. I have occasionally let my wish to get new stories cloud what really is important, and getting back to Stadio Del Conero in Ancona can’t come soon enough.
Football Adventures with James Rendall 