CONIFA Time

CONIFA, the association for the unaffliated lands is back. After a period in hiatus, they have re-launched, and ready to go with this mini Euros competition. New regions have signed up, adding a diverse flavour to the recipe. With more members (they currently claim 50 plus worldwide), it all bodes well for the longevity of the competitions on offer, but with more lanyards than paying public here in Italy, the question needs to be asked, is it worthwhile?

Verano Brianza and Carate Brianza might technically be two places, but in truth, the join is seamless, running from one to the other. Indeed, the sports facilities at the colossal sized Sportitalia village in the Milano hinterland, cleverly sits right on the borderline between the two Brianza’s. The smaller football stadium is in Verano, along with the majority of the complex, but the main stadium, home to newly promoted to Serie C, Folgore Caratese, together with the tennis and paddle courts, are found in Carate.

Folgore doubtlessly have ambitious and big backers. In a relatively sleepy area with far too many top flight options on the doorstep; Monza is the closest, but Como and Milan are easily accessible. It all makes getting Folgore up the leagues an even more commendable effort. This coming season will be the club’s first ever in Serie C.

That said, Italy really doesn’t need yet more Lombardian sides in the professional ranks. However, a bit like the sprouting success of clubs in and around the M25 ring road in England, here in the Milan region, it’s the prosperous North equivalent. You will always find a buck or two available for investment in these areas.

My travels commenced on the opening day of the CONIFA competition, but a foretelling of what lay in store for me came while still at home, the opening ceremony had been cancelled due to likely storm conditions later in the day. For once, the weatherman was spot on.

It was perhaps the most treacherous day of inclement weather I have ever encountered in Italy, and believe me, I have been here lots.

The flight out was delayed due to the weather events in the Milan area, and subsequently, the flight path was altogether more circuitous, endeavouring to plot a path avoiding the worst of the extremely visible thunder storms. Alas, those pesky clouds hadn’t moved on, and the plane took height off going round and round in a safe area of sky, before gunning the engines and making a bid for landing straight into the darkest, most foreboding clouds I can ever recall seeing from a few thousand feet up. Two flashes of lightening were witnessed not so far off just before we hit the runway. It’s very much a South American thing, rapturous applause upon landing, but here in normally restrained Europe, a well deserved clap rippled through a relieved cabin.

Needless to say, it was absolutely hosing it down, and with brolly locked away in suitcase etc, the last thing I, or those behind me needed, was a mother actively encouraging, and having fun with her daughter, jumping from step to step in the water as they disembarked. The net result was suitably bedraggled and damp clothing to present myself to the passport control bloke.

Once at Milano Centrale station, having stayed on the Metro to get there, the roof of this extraordinary building was a cacophony of noise. The rain truly had reached biblical proportions, a phrase to often used, until this very moment in time! A look out at the end of the lengthy platforms gave an inkling of just how heavy it was, complete with the near total darkness, and it wasn’t even 8pm on a ‘summer’s’ night!

It had eased to merely persistently heavy by the time I alighted at Seregno. I only had 6 kilometres to reach my hotel, and having done my research, I saw the local cab company ran its services from just outside the station. There were none when I hit the street, but given the weather, I knew they’d be busy. After 45 minutes, failure to see even one started getting me concerned. It was too wet to walk.

I contacted the hotel, and reception initially thought it was too late to get one, but a second conversation suggested that they were working, just rather busy. Upon a third chat, 2 hours after I had arrived in Seregno, he’d given up. However, his solution was absolutely superb. He jumped in his own car and brought me back! A big shout out to xxxxx (name to be discovered) for such attention and service. While we are handing out gongs, can we name and shame Trenord too. Despite trains running until nearly midnight, when the ticket office closes, the entire station is locked. There wasn’t even as much as a canopy to shelter under. My wee brolly did a splendid job, even if movement in any direction by a fraction led to a soaking!

I usually book somewhere near a station, or with good accessibility, but I had chosen my Guissano base purely on its proximity to the football for the next couple of days. Horrific rain hadn’t been a factor. Neither had the notion that the 2nd of June is Republic day in Italy, therefore a holiday, and  the 4 strong local cab company were potentially on half or quarter capacity!

While all my shenanigans were unfolding, day one at CONIFA had seen a protracted second game, with Padania v Raetia taken off at the height of the rain. Goodness knows when they finished, most likely after 9pm, with Padania back in action a mere 15 hours later. Brescia v Ascoli in the Serie C Play-off final had been abandoned too. Northern Lombardia was getting a soaking, not just me!

The sun was back uninterrupted for day 2, but the ensuing sweltering heat might not have been the best thing for Padania’s second opponent (they won 4,1 v Raetia in the rain), and the sole reason I was here, to see Greenland.

With CONCACAF closing the door on Greenland, or so I thought, the world’s largest island have joined CONIFA. A post match catch up with Morten Rutkjaer, the Greenland boss, revealed that three top lawyers have been quietly working away at the highest Court for Sport on this very subject. A ruling is due imminently and he was smiling!

Given the American (or Mr Trump) rhetoric on Greenland, someone needs to give these football crazy islanders a home, where they can feel part of a family. UEFA really should have been the one, but Spain throwing the toys out of the pram when Gibraltar were granted such status, seems to have forever closed that particular door.

In this encounter, as witnessed in Silkeborg last year, Greenland were proving both adept at controlling passages of play, and tactically aware. To put this all into context, their last competitive outing was 363 days earlier. The way they impressed in Denmark in 2025 meant two players won contracts with Norwegian clubs. However, as I discovered from Morten, neither were available as non UEFA/FIFA tournaments don’t require obligation on the clubs to release players.

Two of the star names might have been missing and despite going a goal down, they merely rolled their sleeves up and got stuck in. After half-time Greenland were in control, and the equaliser was both well deserved and a fine thump into the far corner having cut in on the defender.

An old adage came to pass though. A team is never more vulnerable than just after scoring, and it saw Padania go straight up the park to score a tidy goal and immediately regain the lead. The heat was playing a factor, but Greenland keeping coming forward. They knew with a loss the final was beyond them. They fashioned some openings, amidst Padania resorting to fairly scurrilous tactics; feigning injury, nipping at the referee and generally wasting time, while spoiling for a fight. To be fair to the Greenlandic lands, they didn’t get involved.

Alas, as time ticked down and men being sent ever increasingly forward, the goalkeeper made a mistake, and it was 3-1. Still they wouldn’t give up, but their efforts were to no avail. Padania had won it, and were secure in the knowledge they would compete in Saturday’s final.

One Greenland player, whose parents were on hand, told me he was unavailable for the next match. He was flying back to Denmark that night to sit an exam tomorrow, then back for the final game on Saturday. Another example of the extraordinary dedication from amateur players, which made the antics of Padania both unnecessary and obscene. If amateur competition sinks to the levels in the monied world of the sport, we are all doomed.

For the second offering of the double bill, you had to vacate the ground and have a separate ticket! Ticino, the Italian Canton of Switzerland were playing Northen Cyprus, one of the stalwarts of the CONIFA family. Turkish Cyprus really is one of the great anomalies of the world. Steadfastly independent from the rest of Cyprus, with barely a country recognising it as such.

Here in Carate Brianza, the Northern Cyprus side had the best support of all six entries. It will perhaps come as no surprise to learn that they were easily the best team witnessed on the day. Ticino had nibbled a 1-0 afternoon win on day 1, before the rain, versus the Provence of Rouet in Southern France. And despite winning the best shirt of the quartet I viewed (a lovely red, white and blue number), they were absolutely second best in every facet of this game.

It took the Cypriots a while to get their sights fixed, with some near and comedy misses, before they went in front on the half hour mark, complete with an excessive celebration that saw one of the players injured!

After the break, they went hunting more, and within fifteen minutes they had whacked home another three, some with lavish aplomb. A fifth had the Turkish contingent in raptures, only for a late copy book spoiler, with a consolation penalty award to the beleaguered Swiss. The substitute goalkeeper no less step up to stroke it home. A moment on joy amongst a savage beating.

Northern Cyprus will be in the final, Rouet won’t be stopping this juggernaut, but avoid defeat against Raetia, an Alpine regional team, predominantly Austrian, and a third/fourth play off for Greenland and Ticino would be a nice tie for the weekend.

Day 3 of competition, my second and final viewing………brief summary to follow but nothing startling !