Home and Away

Have you ever done an overseas home and away double of the same fixture in one season? If you live overseas, undoubtedly, but I am talking more about those who journey from one land to another periodically to watch games, rather than an ardent fan of one club. If collecting tales for Football Weekends wasn’t such an attraction for me, it might have happened sooner, but finally in 2024/25, almost by accident rather than design, it finally got ticked off my roster. That said, getting it over that line was more fraught than expected and took determination.

Having been at the September match-up between Cesena and Modena, I noted that the return was scheduled for Easter Monday. Unfortunately, I was down in Brindisi, and unless I flew, getting to a 3pm kick off was impossible as the fastest train is 7 hours to Bologna, then 30 minutes longer on a subsequent local service. I resigned myself to one final relaxing day in Puglia until I noticed the game was moved to a 17.30 kick-off for TV. All systems were go,  travel arrangements  were altered, hotel reservations moved, etc. 

My early morning train was halfway north to Bari when one of those JFK moments broke. I say that as if that is relevant to my life, but I am pleased to report that it was before my time. However, it became a moniker for recollecting where you were at the moment of a dramatic morsel of history. I guess the modern equivalent would be 9/11 (11/9 for the majority of us, but it became known as the former). I was at work that day, and knew it had happened, obviously. I finished at 6, drove to Coatbridge for Albion Rovers v Caledonian Thistle (we hadn’t added Inverness at that juncture), where the atmosphere was muted and the game turgid. Only upon getting home and seeing the footage was I embarrassed I had gone at all. The football was cancelled the next night, but that didn’t stop Boavista trying to get their match at Liverpool replayed, citing the players were traumatised!

I guess the next big similar, more recent event was when the Queen died. I was at a European match at Tynecastle when that news filtered through. They might even have been the first place in the world to have a hastily arranged half-time minutes silence. Well, this Easter Monday had its own story, the death of the Pope. Here I was, once again, with football on my roster.

I canvassed my Italian chums in Ancona, Livorno, Padova and Mantova as to the likely situation that day for the round ball game. It seemed on a 3 to 1 call, that in the modern era, with fans of many clubs having already travelled etc, a minute’s silence would be sufficient acknowledgement. Less than an hour later, it became apparent the decision had been to cancel all sporting events. Carrarese fans had flown to Sicily, Bari, Salernitana, and Catanzaro fans had all ventured far north, and Udinese fans were practically at the stadium in Torino when it was pulled. I know that these fan groups accepted the news with good grace, Bari fans had a barbecue outside the stadium in Bolzano, and even more commendably, Mantova fans had invited Catanzaro Ultras to their den, where they also shared a BBQ, and even had a friendly football match between them.

I continued on my journey, expecting to have some morsels to report on what was a solemn day for many. However, it surprised me how little was witnessed. In fact, the plain truth of it is, I saw nothing. Even the three establishments I visited in Bologna and Modena, where TV’s were on, they all chose to show football from the day before, or in one case, thankfully just for a coffee, they had a nauseating shopping channel on! I’ll spare you my attempts to get a refund on my ticket, the Modena club were washing their hands of responsibility, and the ticket company wasn’t paying out as I hadn’t taken the 2 Euro insurance cover. I enquired further if such a policy would cover death as a rationale, with the response being quite flabbergasting, if not hilarious, but I will leave that for your own deduction.

Just before leaving Brindisi I had walked past a small street named Vico Epifani, the name played into my Monty Python school of thinking, but the day after the Pope’s death, still clutching my ticket for the non-game, I had my own little epiphany! The games were rescheduled for Tuesday, 13th May. These games would now be the last round of matches of the regular season. I checked flight prices from Edinburgh to Bologna and the return. To my great surprise and delight, it collectively amounted to not much more than the matchday ticket price, I was coming back! I would get my home and away gig after all. 

But let’s rewind the clock to the first match, a night I will never forget, I met a footballing hero.  

CESENA

I guess I never quite fully get this notion of the groundhopper. To visit a stadium just once, purely because it ticks a box isn’t in my DNA. Certain places, certain teams keep calling me back, and in the case of the two clubs involved in this story, on multiple occasions, something that will continue until the end of my days watching Calcio.

Why certain places, stadiums, or teams get under my skin is doubtlessly a psychologists couch material, but for sure, you never really forget your first love, and for me, that also translates into football too. Heading away from a game thinking, I have done that one, then moving onto the next is totally alien to me. Very often, I will say to myself, I will be back, and on a good number of occasions, I am.

Quite how they turned the La Fiorita with its Mussolini-esque ellipse in the Dino Manuzzi so quickly is still bewildering. From one close season to the nexy opening, it seemed, with two-tier stands on three sides, all close to the action, complimenting the existing mainstand, it was incredible. Hampden missed a trick in not doing likewise whilst allegedly revamping the tired old venue.

Back in 1987, with no digital tickets, money stuffed through a low porthole got you a brief in exchange, a proper ticket too. Such was the intrigue for this last day encounter, it seems they oversold the stadium beyond its official capacity. It was rammed and standing right at the top of an enormous quasi permanent, but temporary scaffold curva, it was bouncing throughout the entire 90 plus minutes, save a few seconds when Catania equalised.

I have been back at Cesena four times since over the decades, seeing them in Serie A, B and C for good measure, as well as having been on the road with them a few times too. Just two losses in the eleven games thus far, one of which was a cruel home defeat v Inter Milan, when two goals in added time snatched defeat from the jaws of a sensational win. I had seen the reverse of this fixture at the San Siro years earlier.  They drew 1-1 when Massimo ‘il Condor’ Agostini scored a sensational equaliser. I momentarily forgot where I was, amid the Inter Tribuna, and my half movement of joy was enough to get Coca-Cola poured over my head from above, grazie mille! But you know what, it was worth every sticky second. Even Vialli and Mancini at Samp couldn’t get by Sebastian Rossi in a 0-0 draw in Genova two weeks later.

Cesena have been in the doldrums since they, together with Chievo, were caught doing a cute piece of accounting over a player transfer. The Verona club, now back in D finally, but only courtesy of buying another club out, totally imploded, whereas Cesena, who did go under technically, were resurrected in Serie C under its current name Cesena FC.

The landlocked seahorses (see club badge) have struggled with the circle of hell, that is, the 28 team third tier play-offs, so in order to guarantee progression once more, the club went onto win their Girone (division) last season, equalling the record breaking points tally of Catanzaro just the season before.

Back in Serie B for the first time in six years, it started to raise the notion within me that I hadn’t been for a number of years. They featured as one of the stocking filler tales I wrote about during the pandemic for Football Weekends magazine. The club got on board with that exposure, and they even ran a feature on me in one of their programmes. It was always said that when I came back, I should get in touch.

I duly did, and Daniele, true to his word, eased the granting of a press pass so we could meet and share the match. It would turn out to be one of the great football nights of my life. I will forever be grateful to him. Meeting the aforementioned Massimo Agostini was a true highlight of the evening. To shake his hand and chat about his goal in the San Siro, and the relegation saving goal weeks later versus Verona was fabulous. I think he was suffering from incredulity that a man from Scotland was calling him ‘one of my heroes’, but nothing could be more true for me.

The occasion of the night was an Emilia-Romagna derby versus Modena. In the case of the visitors, a team from such a rich city, quite how they consistently underperform is a mystery. This notion even became a point of humour in the movie Ferrari, as they referenced their failings in a lighthearted way. With Ferrari, Maserati, and Lamborghini all based in Modena, you would think with so many monied petrol heads around, the city would have enough to bump up the status of its team, but no, Serie B is pretty much their level.

This would be a match that had a little slice of everything, and from the first whistle until the last, both teams were going for it, not holding back in this particular derby. Cesena started brightly but were sent rocking when a piece of byline brilliance brought a cutback that was exquisitely guided into the net to give the Canaries of Modena the lead. The goal took the steam out of the home side for a while, but gradually, they found a way back into the match, trotting in at the break an amazing 2-1 up. Bastoni got things started with a fantastic low shot into the corner, and then as the volume increased, a well spotted deliberate handball saw VAR change a freekick to a penalty. It was duly converted, and the roof was wobbling as they left the field to rapturous applause.

The second half continued in the same end to end style, with perhaps the more seasoned Serie B visitors showing a greater threat. A towering header would bring Modena level, a developing achilles heel with two identical late goals at La Spezia costing Cesena not one, but all three points with the last nod of the night in the previous match.

Modena would go down to ten, with the thinking that ex-Cesenati boss Pierpoalo Bisoli would look to shut up shop, but nothing could have been further from the reality. It took a stunning late save to keep a point at home.

It had at times been breathtaking stuff. It had been totally entertaining, and a great advert for Serie B.

MODENA

After the fantastic action in Cesena, the return had a lot to live up to. Going into this one, the last round of fixtures, Modena, had conceded a late goal to Brescia days earlier, a goal that effectively ended the promotion play off dream for another term. Indeed, as one of my Calcio buddies, George observed, Modena have been living in their own midtable land pretty much all season. It is so true. In a league that has been so exciting at the top and the bottom, where the last relegation spits were only sealed on the last night, it’s a compelling league.

Modena, as mentioned previously, is a prosperous city, home of the late Luciano Pavarotti. Annually, he would host a concert in Parc Novi Sad, which is right beside the Alberto Braglia football stadium. It is Modena’s largest green space, and having been here previously, and enjoyed its offerings of a relaxing place to read or have a drink. I was disappointed to see how badly it has been left to go out to seed. Instead of being useful for recreational activity, the grass is out of control, the bar is closed, and it seems to be almost accepted as a space for the unemployed migrant population, even acting as potential shelter for vagrant sleeping in its permanent stand.

Luciano was a charitable man, and that aspect might appeal, but in a sophisticated city, it is an eye sore. It seems not only does Modena not unduly care about its football team, but to date, there is no statute or acknowledgement of what Pavorotti did for the city, save a coffee shop that carries his name. Now, I am just an infrequent visitor, but if I am noticing things like this, what’s going on a City Council level to honour his legacy and do right by Parc Novi Sad?

It suddenly occurred to me that my first Italian game in 1987 was the last round of Serie B fixtures, and just shy of 40 years on, this revised schedule in the second tier was also the last round. In ‘87, Cesena’s win had pushed them into a three-way play-off for one spot in Serie A. That was down to all three being locked on the same points and before Play-Offs became part of the regular furniture. They successfully negotiated that path to the top flight, beating Lecce 2-1 in a second play-off final in July that year. While none of these forthcoming play-offs would go on that long this term, could history repeat itself and see Cesena back jousting with Bologna, their true regional rivals, once more? Unlike Modena, Cesena just needed a point to be absolutely guaranteed a shot at glory.

If the September game was a sizzling affair. This one was a damp squib in comparison. I guess Modena, being out of contention, took the edge off things, but it wasn’t helped by yet another Ultras first half boycott. They had unfurled a banner that announced the Modena players were ‘players had no ambition and without balls’. A damming endiment, but worse, was to follow.

Despite being out of the playoff picture, Modena carried the game to Cesena and were both creating and looking dangerous. In September, I noted the name Klinsmann on the Cesena teamsheet as a substitute. Daniele had laughed a little at the notion that he was ever likely to be anything more than a stand-in goalkeeper. He certainly hadn’t learned his skills from his more famous dad, but when I saw him at Cremonese in February, his saves made him man of the match in my eyes. He was at it again here, with one truly astonishing save to keep it scoreless at the break.

In 1987, radio rumours kept the fans buzzing as well as the action on the pitch. The modern equivalent ‘score updates’ on your phone aren’t the same collective drawing of breath. While the play here at the Braglia was sedate, things were changing and crystallising elsewhere.

The home Ultras got back into the swing of things for the second half, but as I have seen with these protests before, it somehow inspires the away team more once the singing gets back to normality. Cesena were less passive after the break, but still not really creating a clear opportunity. They were happy with the point, and I was thinking a fifth away Cesena 0-0 for me was imminent. However, a nice move down the right, a neat cross, and lo and behold it met a Cesena head to nod it across the line.

It was a late goal, probably undeserved, but almost to a man, woman, and child, the atmosphere became poisonous. Grown adults around me joined in with the Ultras as they booed every touch by a home player until the final whistle. As the Cesena fans scrambled on top of the glass surround to hail their playoff heroes, it was lost amid the cacophony of hate from the home end. Traditionally, in Italy, win, draw, or lose, players stand in front of the Ultras and take the adulation or criticism on the chin. This was beyond criticism, but the players commendably started to walk towards the fans and that banner proclaiming their inadequacies. When they reached the penalty area before the Curva, rightly, they just decided to walk off. Cue a volley of abuse that no home player should ever have to encounter.

Perhaps for Modena fans, the end of the season will allow them to calm down. The apparent lofty ambitions of the fans seem out of kilter with where the club has ever been, and perhaps is borne of that notion expressed in the Ferrari film, they are just fed up being second or third rate. That said, a lot of what happened at the end was inexcusable. If it hadn’t been for Klinsmann, Modena would have won, and they would still be midtable.

One thing is for sure, the Stadio Alberto Braglia, with its iconic leaning floodlights, is a thing of beauty. A very central ground, too, within easy reach from the railway station, no more than five minutes away.

I had stayed back and watched with admiration the bond at the other end, as the Cesena fans and players shared a moment. They’ll be on the road again, down to Catanzaro in round one of a three stage route to Serie A. Just making the play-offs is sufficient for season one back in B after a few years away. They will have to play a lot better to get by the Calabrian capital club in a one-off match that Cesena must win to progress.

The footnote to the evening and the talk of the breakfast room the next morning, Sampdoria, were relegated to the third tier after failing to beat Juve Stabia. An astonishingly slow and painful fall from grace. But then, it seems a turn of events post conclusion to see season has saved them! Brescia have allegedly been found guilty of an outsourced business for wages, etc, doing illegal things. Docked 4 points retrospectively, they now sit third bottom, pushing Samp into a playout with Salernitana. All of this is subject to judicial review, then counter review. Meantime while Sampdoria might be happy with the reprieve and keep training, Salernitana would have expected to be on holiday. I have seen these things before in Italy, with the most likely outcome, that playout won’t happen, and Serie B will once again expand to 22 from 20 teams. In the end, the authorities will have got what they were after, saving one of Italy’s bigger clubs from embarrassment.