As a lover of Italy and its football, it’s always been a major blot on my copy book that I’d never visited Milan. For most of my life Milan has been the capital of Italian, arguably world, football. AC Milan of course dominated the late 80s and early 90s, whilst Inter had their run of 2010s success. It’s a city synonymous with the best players, the best kits and the best stadia. It seemed only right over Easter weekend in 2025 to finally make the pilgrimage to the San Siro.
The original plan was to visit AC Milan, in a poor run of form, hosting high-flying Atalanta. This being a budget, in-and-out trip, my friend and I used the fact that Easter Sunday has historically never hosted a fixture to fly in early Saturday morning and fly out late Sunday afternoon. Enough time to quickly see the surprisingly compact Milanese city centre and catch the game, with time for some risotto, espresso and gelato. Maybe even a spritz or two.
Of course, this being Serie A, things are never quite as you’d expect. Milan/Atalanta got shifted to late Sunday night, by which time we’d be back in the familiar surroundings of Northern England. Not only that, some of our back up options, Torino or Bologna, got shifted around as well. Even a historic trip to Pro Vercelli in Serie C was outside of our brief calcio window. It fell to Milan’s ‘third team’, Monza, to fill the gap.
Even as someone who often has a soft spot for some of Calcio’s smaller clubs, my knowledge of Monza both as a city and a club was miniscule. It didn’t extend much beyond knowing it had become Silvio Berlusconi’s passion project in his twilight years. They were also having an absolutely dire season, marooned to the bottom of Serie A with no hope of escape. The biggest name on Monza’s team sheet was on the side-lines, defensive icon Alessandro Nesta being in his second spell as manager for the club. Yet his defensive prowess had done little for a side which conceded regularly and scored even less.
The bigger draw the Monza fixture was their opponents, Antonio Conte’s title pretenders Napoli. Despite losing Khvicha Kvaratskhelia in January to PSG (I wonder if that worked out?), they were still a side I was eager to see in the flesh. It was a chance to see Romelu Lukaku on another stop of his grand tour of Italy and Alex Meret, the best keeper in Serie A. Yet Scott Mctominay was arguably the biggest box-office draw. Seeing his transformation from a solid defensive midfielder at Man United to a dashing goal scoring number 10 was a chance not to be missed. Anyone capable of converting the citizens of Naples into consumers of square sausage must be doing something special.
Whilst the centre of Milan has that beautiful compactness, it’s urban sprawl seems never ending. Come match time, the journey from a cheap Air BnB on the outskirts of Milan to Monza, ostensibly a separate city, was a blur of traffic-laden autostrada, graffiti strewn buildings and big-brand shopping centres. Monza’s ‘u-power’ stadium, historically known as Brianteo, just seemed to appear out of the urban fog. It’s small, modern and blandly inoffensive, perfectly reflecting the team it hosts.
The thing that struck me immediately walking up to the stadium was how many Napoli fans there were. They significantly outnumbered the supposed home fans, and were heading for the ‘home’ stand we had tickets for. There was an extremely relaxed, congenial atmosphere on display as the numerous ‘away’ fans mingled with the occasional pockets of Monza fans. Clearly, there was little animosity between the two sets of supporters. Yet Napoli’s significantly larger number of fans quickly made their presence felt in the stadium, whistling Monza’s team anthem and team sheet announcements whistled and jeered constantly. With Napoli fans making up a bulk of the spectators, the smatterings of Monza fans were also diluted by lots of tourists. Groups of Scandinavians, Germans (one wearing a VFL Bochum shirt) and Brits were dotted all over the stands. I even saw what I presume was a tourist wearing an AC Milan shirt, which didn’t seem to be met with any criticism or comment.
The game proved to be a surprisingly cagey affair for a game between the sides which would end the season in first and last place. Monza had little possession and little quality when they managed to gain hold of the ball. Yet they had a doughy element, particularly in midfield, stifling Napoli’s rhythm. It led to some decent chances on the break for Monza as the game wore on, although these were inevitably fluffed or snatched at. Napoli, who seemed confident and incisive at match start, seemed to become bogged down under a palpable pressure from the sea of light blue supports around the stadium. This had to be a win if Napoli wanted the scudetto, and as Conte became increasingly more frantic on the side-lines as passes went awry, it seemed as if it just wasn’t going to come. Lukaku battled to little effect up font, yet McTominay was the undoubted spark throughout. Tall and with good control, he consistently found pockets of space in-between the Monza defence and midfield. Saying he was Zidane-like is hyperbolic, but the Scotts languid running style and relaxed possession did have a faint air of the erstwhile Juve number 10. Yet the final ball just never came, and it seemed set to be an infamous/famous 0-0 in both teams’ respective seasons.
Sat with a cold beer and a bag of salty amico crisps on surprisingly warm evening, in a roofless stand, I really didn’t care which way it ended up swinging. This was the good life. A Monza fan flashed me a smile and offered a “Salute!”. Unlike the exasperated, cigar smoking Neapolitan in front of me, the result would not ruin the season for my team. The unfolding storyline were enthralling. This was a game which would play a key role in the championship. But added to that, simply the ambience and experience of Italy and it’s football was enough to make it a wonderful experience.
The growing tension was finally broken by, who else, but McTomminay. Napoli appeared to regain some composure and Giacamo Raspadori floated in a wonderful cross for the unmarked ’McTommadonna’ to guide the ball into the net with a header. His jubilant celebrations, hurdling the advertising hoardings to embrace the vast swathe of Neapolitans, belied the fact that this was more than just a goal in a regular 1-0. Is what a momentum swing from Milan to Naples, as Inter began to falter and Napoli had built up a head of steam.
After the final whistle some of the meagre Monza ultras began a discussion with Monza centre back and that day’s captain, Luca Caldirola, who had had a decent game. They had also unveiled a banner in the closing moments of the game which I believe said something along the lines of “fighting for the shirt”. As we exited the ground there a sense of real joy about the thousands of Neapolitans, a seeming awareness that they were to pull ahead in the title trace. This was in contrast with an air of relaxed acceptance on the occasional Monza face I spotted. It had been a terrible season, but aside from the Ultras it seemed to being met with almost indifference.
With Monza back in Serie B, I could certainly recommend a trip to the ‘U power stadium’. Friendly, relaxed and within a stones throw of Milan, it’s an excellent place to view some calcio.
