In the last year I have been taking my Italian tales further and further south, predominantly as the north and central areas had been well rinsed. Albeit I still have loads of stories to tell in more northern reaches. It all started in Taranto last October, a first ever game for me in the southern division of the third tier, essentially Serie C, Girone C. Well, when the opportunity came along to increase the matches in this league from one to four on three consecutive autumnal nights under the lights, as well as journey along an old Roman Way, I altered my schedule to fit that billing.
In Italy you need flexibility, as the third tier only confirms days/times over for a 4-5 week roster at the start of any given month, so if you are heading across for dates in the early part of a new month, at times it might be too late to make the necessary alterations, unless you are willing to go for last minute booking. This particular trio of games were on the second weekend, and with a midweek round just before I arrived, there had been a slightly earlier confirmation, albeit the Monday night game I ended up watching wasn’t originally scheduled for that evening, but its appearance delightfully allowed a three game gig.
The weekend started with a Saturday night match halfway between Taranto and Brindisi in mid-country Puglia at the curiously named Francavilla Fontana. Last year I told of how Taranto historically sided with the Greeks, and that precluded it from being involved in the Roman Appian Way at the outset, choosing its coastal gateway at Brindisi instead. I mention this now before we get to Brinidisi next, as seeing the impressive Centro Storico (historical centre) of Francavilla en route to the stadium, it immediately shouted Roman riches, and subsequent investigation confirmed its place on the lavish trading route. The town is one of many in the area where a dialect known as Griko is spoken, so I guess the Greeks had influence here too.
Francavilla Fontana
With a population of just 36,500, Francavilla is a relatively small town. It was home to the “Imperiali” family, a bunch of feudal lords who ruled for two centuries until the 18th century. The origins are French-Norman though, and from this language the town took its name, Franca meaning “tax free” and villa is “town”, so an ancient form of a development area was formed with incentives to set up business here. Given its proximity to coastal Brindisi and Taranto, both 35 kilometres, it was a useful staging post. That said, the tax haven aspect allegedly came along after a sighting of the Virgin Mary by a passing Prince at the magnificent fountain in the town, so goodness knows what the place was called before “Tax free town fountain” came along!
Having a team in the third tier, and having reached that level for the first time in 2016/17, Virtus Francavilla have comfortably maintained a place in the professional leagues ever since. The club are essentially a re-invention of AS Francavilla, who were consistently a top Puglia non league side without going any higher. In 2007 they were known as Salento Francavilla, but following a merger with Francavilla Calcio at the end of 2014/15, it immediately added ambition to being reliable and solid. It brought instant results, with a first ever promotion to Serie D the next season. The confidence from that achievement saw yet another step up winning their fourth tier division jumping into the professional league, where they have resided ever since.
If ever I needed a train to be on time, it was the 6,30pm Lecce to Francavilla. This train was starting out on a long and winding night journey that would end up in Milan at some point the next day. Alas it set off late and stopped on the tracks for a lengthy period, meaning the one hour trip had eaten into my 75 minutes before kick off, leaving me just 45 instead. Thankfully, the hotel (the only one in the town), isn’t far from the station, so dumping my bag and jumping in a cab would easily get me there. Sleepy hollow Francavilla doesn’t have any taxis?! But as the lady at reception suggested, it is just a 20 minute walk.
I set off and going through the gates of the old walls, the buildings became unexpectedly lavish. The streets were teeming with locals, not just out for that great Italian tradition of La Passeggiata (an evening stroll), but with a local wine festival in full swing, drink, music and dancing were all taking place. It reached a crescendo just after the fountain (the fontana in the town name maybe), where the entire route to the stadium was blocked by the sheer volume of revellers. It was great to see, and on my return it was still on-going, so I could hoover and enjoy the event more then.
Thankfully a narrow channel was discovered where people were trying to get from one side to another, and following a family with a buggy was always going to allow a parting of bodies to let us through. A few minutes later pastoral calm had hit the streets, with the bright light from the floodlights starting to lure the football fan through the ancient gate of the city on the other side of the town. It was no more than a twenty minute walk, and that time scale would also be true of a daytripper landing at the railway station for a game.
The compact Giovanni Paolo II stadium is literally just outside the ancient gate of the city, and the first part you see is the home curva. Just to the right is a ticket office/club shop that will sell you a scarf or a shirt but nothing much else. I had bought my ticket online so one queue was averted. I had picked a seat right at the top of the main stand on the edge so as to be able to freely get some snaps. I was aware that these hideous glass screens were in front of the main stand, and if I was going to get any good photos, height was important. The stand is only six rows high, and no one seemed to pay the slightest attention to what seat you had booked, with “my” seat area permanently housing a standing group of fans, which I can understand as it was the only way to get above the glass. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and I would recommend the Curva behind the goal for anyone headed here. They are glass cage free and so close to the action, a brave enough soul could easily tickle the top of any given corner kick taker’s head!
Casertana were the real draw for me here in truth. I caught up with them in Serie D last term just outside Roma at Monterotondo, where they ran riot, raining on the parade of the local side who had hit top spot for the first time in their history. It had been a spluttering campaign for the side from Caserta, but they finished strongly and won the largely futile 4 team play off for sides second to fifth in their Girone, beating higher placed Paganese in the final. These two had displayed everything that is wrong with Italian football earlier in the campaign with a Casertana bus set on fire in Pagano following a game between the sides.
A new, ambitious project is underway in Caserta, and that business plan for progress doubtlessly meant they leapt to the top of the authorities thinking when a vacant place in the Southern Serie C became vacant with Reggina dropping from B to D. Plans have been produced, and signed off on, for a brand new stadium in the city, one of those modern shopping mall rooftop affairs that will replace the Stadio Alberto Pinto (capacity 6,817) at some point in the near future.
My journey north would see me visit Caserta to pay homage to the Pinto in my quest to obtain another natty ICT-eque shirt. Very often my wee treks bring me an open door allowing some photos of the venue, and with the club shop literally up the steps en route to the seats in the stand, all looked good. However I was disappointed that I couldn’t get up the last block of stairs due to the team training, which is fair enough. It is an artificial surface meaning it can be used for all the clubs needs.
Casertana were the last confirmed name on the C roster for this season, and that resulted in an additional two week period for them to get ready over and above an already delayed campaign. Once they started the games came thick and fast, but they were ready, and as both sides took to the Francavilla pitch on a balmy Saturday night, it was the visitors who had the loftier league placing, with Virtus having endured an uncharacteristically slow start.
The Falcetti (little eagle) Casertana fans were housed in a double screened off area alongside the main stand. It made getting a good view of them nigh impossible, but I reckon more than a 100 had made the lengthy trek for an evening game. They were in good voice, aided by a committed team who grew into the game and exploited that lack of confidence in the home side, although it was Virtus who opened the scoring, and they also scored the goal of the night in this five goal thriller. Casertana were undoubtedly rocked by going behind early, but gradually they played themselves into the game, going in front close to the break, but a momentary relaxation ahead the half-time cuppa saw them back off a fraction too far, and that allowed Virtus to equalise with a fabulous strike into the top corner.
The second half was a much sedate affair on the scoring front, but both were going at it with great gusto. Casertana fashioned what proved to be the winner 20 minutes into the second half, and despite the Virtus goalie being sent up in the last seconds, they couldn’t find another equaliser, with the visitors from Campania headed back across the country very happy with their three points and nights work.
As mentioned, the wine festival and live music in the town were still ongoing as I worked my way back through Francavilla, taking longer to drink in the astonishing buildings in the centre. My hotel was around the corner from a very busy bar, and as luck would have it, or not, the back of this bar housed the local nightclub, with thumping techno seeping through the walls into every corner of the hotel. It turned out I was the only guest that night! Francavilla Fontana is a lively sleepy hollow, if you can have such a thing, and a charming place to visit and watch a game.
Brindisi
This was the one place in this trio of stops that I really wanted to visit. A legacy of a BBC Great Train Journeys episode that not only introduced me to this amazing city, but also the young presenter at the time, the spellbinding and captivating character that is poet and novelist Ben Okri. Despite an aversion to “spirit” fantasy novels, his lyrical style has always seen me coming back to his work, time and time again, with The Famished Road his most well known tomb. His particular brief for this documentary was to get from London to Greece in search of that mythical area Arkadia. The scheduling only took him via Italy and Brinidisi because of the ongoing Yugoslavian war at the time, but in many ways it was perfect as the city was where Roman poet Virgil lived and died. With a young, aspiring poet coming face to face with a statue in honour of one of his heroes, Ben’s prose and enthusiasm for his project took off in Brindisi, and that stayed with me all these years on.
Indeed, I once got the opportunity to regale this take on how he arrived in my world at the Edinburgh Book Festival to him directly, where, despite a lengthy queue for signing books, he took care and attention with each and everyone of his flock. I always ask the occasional author I would cherish a signed book from to lift a line from their own prose, and for Ben I asked him to write, “we live within the dreams of others”, such a perfect line to sum up this man. As I walked away chuffed with the signature and our Brindisi chat, he stood up and shouted after me, “I hope your dreams come true”. A number of years on from that moment, if you are reading this Ben, they truly have!
By contrast to Francavilla, Brindisi is more than double its size at 88,000, although I have to confess I thought it would have been more, it felt bigger. That might be due to the natural harbour, a significant water inlet that separates the main part of the city from the more leafy residential parts across the bay, where the stadium can also be found. There is even a Venetian-esque river boat/bus that will ferry people across the divide, perhaps quicker for some than taking the road around the headland, but walking to a game here is likely to be your best option.
Diomedes is said to have founded Brundisium (Brindisi), which means “Deers head” in the Messapian language, thought to be a nod to the shape of the natural harbour, and a notion that lives on to this day with a deer’s head adorning the badge of the local football team. Brindisi wasn’t just where Virgil hung out, but other poets too, the rock stars of their day, lending an image of many fine toga, quill pens and slates going about with large palm leaves being flapped cooling the inspirational wordsmiths to attain loftier heights. Perhaps as they all got lost in their text and the glories of the words produced, someone snuck in from Lecce and nicked one the two pillars that signalled the end/start of the Appia Way. These are monstrously large pillars, not a one man job! For the record, the “other one” still resides in more southerly Lecce to this day.
Brindisi is a port city, and a tourist spot too. Ferries will whisk you across to Greece etc from here, as it also has its own airport, making it a vital hub in the transport network. Down near the water’s edge in a quiet square is a statue to Virgil, but not his tomb, as he was subsequently exhumed and moved nearer to Napoli. The centre of the city is full of charm, and the port area is bustling on a weekday I am sure, but idling quietly on a Sunday ahead of a match! The waters edge walkways are very wide and relaxed, with plenty of places to enjoy a meal or a drink pre or post match.
My train from Francavilla had left at 9am, a mere 30 minute trip back out to coastal Brindisi. There is plenty of choice for hotels or other accommodation, but I had plumped for one near the station for ease of a 7.30am start the next morning. Having asked if I could leave my luggage at such an early hour via Email, I was pleasantly surprised that a pre 10am appearance meant access to my room already! Unlike Francavilla though, I wasn’t the only guest, but I guess with winter just around the corner, it wasn’t exactly full.
With another evening game to come, I decided to do one of those field reconnaissance walks out to the stadium to get some daylight snaps in the hope a door might be open. It is a 3.5 kilometres walk, mildly undulating, following the water’s edge around and up to the Casale area of the city where the Franco Fanuzzi stadium can be found. Not only was a door open for some photos, but lo and behold, right behind the away end on the Brindisi training pitch, a 9th tier match (the lowest in Italy) was just ten minutes old with ASD Casale (not to be confused with the once Scudetto winners from Piemonte) hosting Pro Massafra. Despite a burning wish to see the city, it seemed rude not to watch a thoroughly competitive 2-3 unfold. Very much like the lower leagues of the pyramid in Scotland, they only had a referee, but my goodness I felt sorry for the chap as disputes regularly broke out and occasionally 20 grown men entered a push and shove contest.
I was back that evening having walked myself silly all day in Brindisi, but I had splashed some additional money for a main stand seat, partly because I had clocked the forecast the day before (when the tickets went online for sale, yes, you read that right, the day before!), and evening rain was at a high percentage. Well, as tidy as the Fanuzzi is, only a select few seats slap bang in the centre are anything but a numbered piece of concrete, and lucky old me, my allocated slab had a restricted view of the goal to my left. I chose to stand up the back for the duration, well nearly, more later.
Brindisi as a football town has never really troubled the high echelons of the Italian game. Having started out in 1912, they bobbed along until 1990 without much going on, and then they entered a tumultuous period where 4 bankruptcies came along in 25 years. The present 8 years of stability isn’t the longest since 1990 yet, but it is perhaps the most ambitious. Last season they were doing well in Serie D, jousting with Barletta for second spot playing bridesmaid to apparently runaway leaders Cavese. However, an away win at Barletta started the club on a run that saw them gradually nibble into the leaders psyche and when the dust settled on the season, they were tied at the top, resulting in a play off. Brindisi duly won that and they were, perhaps ahead of schedule, propelled into the professional ranks in Serie C. The stadium certainly wasn’t “C” ready and they played a few opening “home” matches on the road.
That winning mentality from last season started them off well, and perhaps that sense of injustice of playing home matches away allowed siege mentality to gather the squad and things were looking good. The re-opening of the buffed up Fanuzzi hasn’t had the desired effect however, and despite greater enthusiasm from the local population, when I pitched up the wheels were showing signs of coming off the bus.
Avellino were in town, an appropriate first time viewing for me of one of the clubs that formed part of the first ever Serie A league table I perused in Guerin Sportivo some forty years ago now. Those giddy days might have gone, and indeed the club seems to have been caught up in the circle of hell that is Serie C for years and years now, but wow what a support they brought to the Puglian coast. Throughout this encounter the team looked imperious, but that is qualified by both how bad Brindisi were, and the fact they haven’t won since (at the time of writing, three games on). The four goal thumping could have been more, but amid biblical rain that saw 90% of the fans in the three uncovered stands scampering periodically for cover, Avellino eased off and Brindisi even managed a few last moments of bluster, but it wasn’t enough to save the manager from the chop. Despite having a “seat” in the stand with a cover, the ferocity of the wind and the subsequent anger of the rain meant it was pouring in the back of the stand too, and everyone at the back headed down a few levels to avoid the worst, but the damage had been done, the back of my jeans was soaking before I had ever realised! It was a soggy trek back to my hotel.
Benevento
The Appian Way extends via the Triana Way from Brindisi to Roma, extended by Emperor Trajan at Beneventum, modern day Benevento. This fabulous city, with a population of 60,000, has a special place in my heart. It was here, more than two years on from seeing a match in Como in January 2020, the pandemic was finally put to bed for me. It was the first town I brought to life for Football Weekends, writing it up hastily almost live over a glass (or more) of the fabulous local Falanghina wine ahead of, and after a Serie B match with Pisa on a cold, wet early April Saturday in 2022.
My goodness how far the witches (Strega-Benevento nickname, and main character on the club badge) have fallen. They destroyed Pisa that day 5-1 and were looking good for an immediate return to Serie A, where they had briefly been twice in quick succession previously. The second of which was one those horrible crowd free seasons, where doubtlessly it saw them miss the passionate fans at the Vigorito, with a terrible second half of the season that saw a promising mid-table place become relegation once more. Having fluffed their lines in the Serie B promotion race/play offs of 2021/22, last season was a calamity and they ended up back where the club had spent many a decade before those lofty seasons in Serie C.
If my first game here had been a dank Saturday afternoon, by contrast, this mid November Monday night game was a balmy affair until near the end, when the surrounding mountains doubtlessly aided the temperature drop. My first visit to the club shop in town had failed to render me a shirt, as in April ‘22 I guess the stock for the season had been depleted. By curious delight, not only was the shop better stocked this time around (surprised me given they are in C), but the somewhat experimental shirt design (code for silly in my opinion) has gone, seeing the club revert to a more tradition red and yellow stripe with the thin black pinstripe style dividing line between the alternating colours.
The shop was the first sign that suffering two relegations in three seasons hasn’t detracted from the enthusiasm for the club, and a good crowd was in the magnificent Vigorito for a potential first ever Campania league derby with Giugliano, a second season C side from 60 kilometres away in the Napoli direction. They had survived last term, despite having to play the entire campaign away from home. My suspicion of constantly ‘homeless’ sides puts them far down in my estimation, but I am pleased to report they are back home now, and they had a fine support with them for this game. Having won a penalty shoot-out Coppa Italia match at the Vigorito quite recently following a 2-2 draw, the environment held no surprises for them, albeit the crowd was considerably higher for this league encounter.
I must confess I was expecting another 4-0 minimum whacking of the visitor in this one, and the way Benevento started my prediction seemed likely to be accurate. However, Giugliano had other ideas and they peppered the Strega goal with some incredible efforts. The left upright had saved Benevento twice, but they couldn’t stem the tide and the visitors deservedly equalised just after the break. The game was very much in the balance, with Giugliano continuing to terrorise with some very slick, quick passing in their counter attacking style. However, Benvento’s greater nuance and streetwise way saw them get up a head of steam that put them back in front, but it merely doubled the resolve of the visitors, and the second equaliser was as breathtaking as it was beautiful. They weren’t happy with rumbling the locals by pulling level, Giugliano could smell victory, and they very nearly got it, but some panicky defending saw the point secured. They shook on a draw, another 2-2 affair between them, but it was a frustrating night for the locals as a win would have put them top, and in a microcosm it highlighted why I believe Benevento will come up short in the promotion push for quick return to Serie B, a lack of game control, without it they won’t gather enough points to win the league. In contrast, the future looks exciting for Giugliano, an exciting young team with pace and skill in abundance. I expect a host of visiting scouts will doubtlessly be keeping tabs on these guys now!
Back at the same hotel in Benevento where the pandemic ended for me, quaffing another delightful glass of Falanghina ahead of turning in, I was caught mulling over the last 20 months since I had last sat here. It had been a busy period with 24 games in Italy between the book-end Vigorito clashes. I concluded my Appian Way with a peek at lovely Caserta the next day ahead of rolling into Roma, where the trade route ended. Great history, as well as bounty, have doubtlessly been through the places I mention in this tale. It had been a rich cultural few days, coupled with calcio, just how I love it.
Football Adventures with James Rendall 