Florence: Coming in from the rain
As the heavens opened, we ducked for cover into the bar opened inside Florence’s Loggia del Grano, condemned to paying €7 for a bottle of beer at midday on a Sunday.
A tough life, I know. This former grain market has been converted into a ‘bar’ where prices are inflated and food looks microwaved, so we were not compelled to stick around.
Rather, we would chance our arm at making it as far as Piazza Santa Croce before admitting defeat against rain so heavy that it prompted us to ask: “Is this match actually going to be on?”
A couple of friends and I had made our way to the city for a weekend of football tourism and food. We had just seen Bologna-Inter the night before and were on a hot streak of finding good food spots, which was not about to end like this.
A wooden board of goodness made us forget about our damp socks before long.
While huddling under one of the piazza’s balconies for shelter, good fortune appeared over our shoulder in the form of an open bar that appeared welcoming and shuffled a few tables around to make space for three soaked football fans.
The potent combination of an enticing drinks list and the sight of several locals and tourists eating meant we had nowhere to be in a hurry.
Meat, cheese and bread appeared at our table in semi-miraculous circumstances and we were settled.
It was still seven hours until our Sunday night kick-off at Artemio Franchi, and it was to clear up before 3pm, so life was good.
A wooden board of goodness made us forget about our damp socks before long, anyway.
Onto the game at hand. Fiorentina-Roma. A game worthy of the Sunday evening primetime slot. Roma had just dismantled Brighton; Daniele De Rossi’s side winning 4-0 to continue their acutely upward trajectory post-Mourinho’s sacking.
Fiorentina remain enigmatic. For large periods during games, they look like a top four side, but then they go and spoil it all by doing something stupid like missing a penalty. More on that later.
I have been lucky enough to see the Viola live in Florence twice before and have only good things to say about the city, the stadium, the fans and the lampredotto panini outside the ground.
Few other places in the world can claim to exude such beauty and also provide top quality football. Maybe Leeds. Joking, sort of.
A trip to Dolce Vita Vintage Lab, a shop filled to the brim with football nostalgia, fulfilled its potential and left me a few euros lighter.
My ginger hair acted as an assuring symbol that we had not come up from Roma.
A quick stop for a drink in Piazza Santa Maria Novella allowed us to catch a glimpse of Juventus’ struggles against Atalanta, much to the delight of the locals. Drinks finished; off to the station.
Huddled in like cattle on the train to Campo di Marte, a five minute journey felt like a pilgrimage of penance before the football we were about to enjoy.
For those who make this journey on a fortnightly basis, the sight of these pasty boys wearing light clothing must have been odd, but at least my ginger hair acted as an assuring symbol that we had not come up from Roma.
An evening at Stadio Artemio Franchi always feels like a proper football experience. That welcome buzz of a congregation with the same intention, the hum of a food truck's engine and slightly uncomfortable seating.
A balmy, by my standards, fourteen degrees and no sign of the afternoon rain that had threatened to turn this night into a damp squib. The conditions were perfect.
Despite the generally poor state of Italian stadiums, they do make up for it in atmosphere, functioning barista and the ability to just stand near the pitch during warm-ups without being ushered to your seat every five seconds.
Watching Paulo Dybala juggle a football before stroking it 50 yards onto Aouar’s foot was great, as was watching the various Roma fans sat in the home end drift towards the magnetic away end, rather than stay undercover among discerning Tuscans. Before long, it was time for kick off.
While the Torino version still eludes us, the Fiorentina Belotti thrived in the physical battle with Roma’s defenders.
Oh Fiorentina! blasted out as the players emerged from the tunnel in the pit of the Curva Fiesole. The stage was set.
Fiorentina’s cup runs, domestically and in Europe, failed to stop them from sending out a strong XI to match Roma; a team whose Champions League ambitions are three-fold. Fourth place is in sight, as is the Europa League final, and finishing fifth might even be enough under UEFA’s new competition format.
The game itself was delightfully entertaining. Andrea Belotti, draped in Florentine purple, gave his old Roman teammates a tough evening.
While the Torino version still eludes us, the Fiorentina Belotti thrived in the physical battle with Roma’s defenders.
Roma started the better, but it was Luca Ranieri’s goal which kicked this game into life, his header putting the home side ahead in the 16th minute.
Fiorentina enjoyed almost total dominance for the rest of the half, going close on multiple occasions, but the profligacy that has haunted the Italiano era continued.
Houssem Aouar equalised early in the second half before Rolando Mandragora made the most of a defensive mix-up to tap in Fiorentina’s second; and that’s where the game gets a little loopy.
As the entered the final ten minutes, Belotti turned Leandro Paredes just inside the Roma box, prompting the Argentina to grab him and give away a laughably soft/silly penalty.
Step up Belotti, against his old team, to make it 3-1 and send them back to the capital with frowny faces, right?
Unfortunately not, says every Fiorentina fan. Rather, team captain Cristiano Biraghi, admittedly a dead ball specialist, but also a left-back, took the ball and placed it on the spot before giving Mile Svilar one of the easier penalty saves he will have to make in his career.
Oh well, not to worry, just see out the last few minutes and take the 2-1. If only. Fifteen seconds after the four allotted minutes were up, a wild Diego Llorente saw Evan Ndicka’s knockdown bounce into his path and caught it perfectly.
With the last kick, the game was level. Roma close the gap on Bologna in 4th and Fiorentina fans head home feeling short changed.
Perhaps that goal never happens if Italiano decides against making three subs in injury time, but we shall never know.
Should we really have drank that shot of Borghetti at half-time?
After joining the masses to flock out of Artemio Franchi after a wonderful night of calcio turistico, we headed for a debrief in La Guerrina, a pub near the stadium.
Only then did we process the fact that Diego Llorente, once of Leeds fame, had equalised with the last kick.
Heading back to town, we jumped in a taxi whose driver proceeded to tell us he used to play football in Ireland and referenced various rural villages, prompting us to question: “Should we really have drank that shot of Borghetti at half-time?”
Meat, cheese, pasta, lampredotto, beer, Diego Llorente going full Roy of the Rovers and the only taxi driver in Florence to have played in the Irish League. All in a day’s work.
Cover photo: Lewis Urquhart (@calciolewis)
