Milan Trip Report
2-0 in Italy: a day trip remembered
By Marc Ollington
I’m not sure why I don’t go to many European away games. I always love it when I make the effort. Perhaps the Champions League final (where I bought a dodgy ticket for a billion pounds) put me off. Anyway, I’m leaving for a year in Los Angeles at the end of March, so I’m trying to get to as many games as I can at the moment and I was itching for another European adventure.
I’d intended to fly out the day before the game, but work ruined that. So I ended up leaving Gatwick at dawn on match day and coming back early the following morning. It sounded bonkers, and was the longest day trip I’d ever heard of. But I couldn’t miss such an important match. Plus it was a chance to go to a game with my little brother, whose girlfriend is Milanese and who was enjoying a nice little holiday to coincide with the tie. The outward flight was pretty painless and we even got breakfast and a free scarf. It was quite tasty at the time (the breakfast, not the scarf), though it did give me a dodgy stomach later. I had a little kip and woke up just as we landed. Then we boarded a coach and I had another little kip. We seemed to reach central Milan in the blink of an eye. Sleep’s great like that, eh? It was strange to arrive in the city centre at 10.30am with the sun shining and Gooners already everywhere. I gave my brother a call and we went for a coffee. Even though I don’t smoke these days, I decided to have a few cigarettes as it’s good to smoke in Italy, looking cool with your espresso. We got taken to a lovely pizza place by Beatrice, my brother’s girlfriend. I love pizza more than life itself, so it’s good to get a proper one. We also met up with Alberto, a friend of Beatrice’s and a massive AC fan. He’d befriended my brother on a previous visit, so this time they swapped scarves and all that jazz. I could’ve cried it was so emotional. After eating, Alberto took us to a bar where we had a good few pints and it was soon time to get the tram to the San Siro. I thought I might feel intimidated, as the tram was bound to be crammed with Milan fans. Two weeks earlier we’d got a tram to Old Trafford from Manchester city centre and it was quite nasty. But this time it was the Arsenal fans who were making themselves heard. I wish this had been due to great support, but sadly it wasn’t. The fans in our carriage were being idiots and ended up smashing all the lights and breaking the windows. Our tram thus came to a halt and we had to walk the last mile or so. There are still a few prats who have to ruin it for everyone. Entering the San Siro was crazy. Those who’ve been will know about the police presence and being treated like scum. I just smiled and tried to be as polite as possible. I then had to do that ten-mile walk up the concrete tower to get to my seat. I’d been told facilities were basic, but this was taking the p*ss. It’s so high up I had vertigo, the view is really obstructed by the bloody fence, and you basically pick any stool you like (I refuse to use the word seat). What a carry on! Upon arrival in our section I really needed a tiddle. I then discovered that there were two very small toilets for around 6,000 of us. The queue was hours long. It only took a few minutes before people were weeing up against the wall at the top of the tier. This was fine to begin with (I did it too), but the whole section was basically a river of p*ss by half time. You wouldn’t get that at Ashburton Grove! Mind you, you wouldn’t get the amazing atmosphere either. An hour before kick off the stadium was two thirds full, with both sets of supporters in fine voice. By the time the teams came out it was electric; more electric, in fact, than 20 electric eels plugged into a really powerful plug socket. I suppose I should mention the game itself. I always had a feeling we could pull this off, and after the first 15 minutes (when we took a while to settle) I knew we would. We seemed so composed. We were quicker, more inventive and had the hunger and passion. I was loving it. Some of those around me thought that we’d be made to pay for missing the chances we had, but I was convinced that the more chances we created the more the AC fans would grow frustrated. And I was right. They became muted, restless and worried. As did the AC players. The second half saw more of us being brilliant, both in terms of support and on the pitch. With 20 minutes to go I was happy to see Diaby replaced by Walcott. Diaby had been our only weak link all night and I hoped Walcott could open them up. As we went into the last ten minutes I actually thought the Italians were getting stronger. Then Cesc scored from 30 yards. We may have been high up in the gods, but we saw the net bulge and we went flippin’ bananas. It felt f**king fantastic! Everyone hugged and grown men had sex with each other (well, almost). I regained some composure and convinced myself that we’d let in two. But before I knew it Theo showed what a player he can be to set up Adebayor for 2-0. When the final whistle went I really couldn’t believe it. Beating AC Milan in their backyard was a huge achievement and I was determined to enjoy every minute. And I could, as we were locked in p*ss valley for 45 minutes “for our own safety”. To keep our spirits up they showed The History of Highbury DVD on the scoreboard screens. Quite surreal. Eventually the coach got us back to the airport around midnight. We drank booze and sang songs. It was flippin’ marvellous. After a return flight spent dreaming of victory in Moscow, I got home at four in the morning. The whole experience took exactly 24 hours. It really was the ultimate day trip and one of the best games I’ve ever been too. I wished I’d played away more often.
Posted 6th May 2008
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