Q. ~Italian~ "You?ve been made the favourites for the Serie A title this season; do you believe that Internazionale are going to be the front runners for the scudetto?"
A. ~Italian~ "Yes, I do. Next question." There was a candid ease in his answer, a smile that the reporters enjoyed as he appeared supremely confident of their chances.
Q. ~Italian~ "Roma have been making all sorts of noises that they are going to inflict revenge in the Super Cup after the league and Coppa D'Italia defeats. What are your thoughts?"
A. ~Italian~ "They?ve maintained largely the same squad, which gave a strong showing in the last campaign, if their off-season work has been productive then I imagine they will pose a good challenge. But I believe in my team, they are looking extremely hungry for more success already."
Q. ~Italian~ "Many have questioned whether Inter will capture some of the impressive results and performances that they did last season with so many of the vital players having left this summer, especially the likes of Ivan and Diaz."
A. ~Italian~ "I would counter that with the names of who we have brought in. Diaz was absolutely wonderful for this club, but equally Simon (Lincoln) is a hugely talented centre forward, and world class at that. Evgeny (Shipulin) might not have the same reputation as Simon, but he too is a massive presence in attack and I expect will smash them in without too much trouble."
Q. ~Italian~ "The issue of bedding in so many players altogether doesn't worry you then? There have been questions over a few areas in the squad that still need strengthening, and players linked to those positions-,"
A. ~Italian~ "Sorry I'll stop you there, we've done our work on transfers and finished now. We've strengthened our options in attack, the wings, in front of the defence, and in goal. I don't see anywhere else that needs support as our defence is packed with solid individuals and the centre of the park is in no danger whatsoever with the creative talent we already possess."
Q. ~Italian~ "You're not worried that a few injuries could pose too big a problem for the campaign?"
He shook his head with some mild annoyance.
A. ~Italian~ "Any team's season can be affected by injuries to their star talent, so I don?t have any more of a worry about it than the other managers in this league. Our season won't rest on one lone player, it'll take every element pulling together to create the winning football we are now used to."
He smiled again, that self assurance in the powerhouse he was at the helm of. The press conference ended on that note, his relief silent and hidden that thankfully none of the journalists had thought to question him on the dangerous finances. He wasn't sure he could have successfully deflected attention or lied to their faces; a politician he was not after all.
Free of the press, his mind could begin to focus entirely on the first task before them, Roma.
Thank goodness they wouldn't be contesting the pre-season cup in the Stadio Olimpico again; he had come to hate that stadium just as most other athletic track stadiums rubbed him the wrong way. It made sense to use the stadiums for as many sports as possible when they were in an important location, but the games lost something in atmosphere as a result. There was also the condition of the stadium, as most of the Italian league had the same problem of failing to invest in their stadiums enough, disrepair and poor condition rectified every 20 or so years as though they were solicitors; unwilling to spend money until they absolutely had to.
At least the San Siro, Giuseppe Meazza, was kept at a relatively decent standard. However it was clear why the club had desired a ground all of its own of an up-to-date modern quality; the San Siro's pitch had had to be relayed countless times ever since the third tier had been added in for the 1990 World Cup, at no small cost. And the costs of maintaining the stadium to Champions League level were ever rising.
But it was home, and steeped in a level of history which outdid a vast number of entire clubs' history, that was saying something for a stadium alone. When the time came to move on it would be a day of mixed emotions for the Nerazzurri.
Decked in their black and blue, hoisting flags of crusaders and of St.Ambrose - the flag of the city of Milan. He liked to watch them weaving their figure of 8's in the air in belief that they were there for the English contingent currently powering the club forward, all St. Georges flags rather than Ambrose.
View attachment 418093
August 11
th - Supercoppa Italiana - Giuseppe Meazza - Roma
((High Contrast - The Road Goes On Forever [One Minute To Midnight Extended Mix] - YouTube))
The team talk had been given, go out there and dominate the first half; put this thing to bed before Roma had a moment to believe in their chances, so they might send a warning out for the coming Scudetto.
Lloyd Daniels had roared in the tunnel:
~Italian~ "Come on boys!!!! 6 nil in the first twenty!!!"
Roma smirked, laughed, and looked nervous. Nakatani, Daniels, van Bruegal and Panisson appeared as though it was already won. If only confidence could win alone.
It took only 9 minutes to open the scoring, Nakatani squeezing a low cross beyond the outstretched legs of all the defence to find Panisson, a simple side foot into the back of the net. The pressure kept up, Roma were camped in their box almost as possession for them amounted to a wild swing at it, lumping the ball forward to clear the danger.
"Attacco! Attacco! Attacco!" Cried the Inter fans, not because they were failing to have at the Roma side, but from their excitement as the attacking display pressed and pressed the burgundy shirts right back to the goal.
View attachment 418099 Ype van Breugal was looking demonstrative in his desire to lay creative and daring passes forwards, past the attempts at an interception, rolling beyond the back line to allow Panisson to get at the keeper.
25
th minute and he got his second, the Dutchman laying yet another off to the Italian striker, the keeper sliding out with all haste only to find the ball calmly dinked up and over.
The game was looking as good as wrapped up. Roma's coach got to the edge of his technical area, barking orders to try and change things up, nothing seemed to happen to change the game save that Roma finally started to sort out their defensive lines. 45 minutes was reached with the score still at 2 - 0, a drab showing for all the domination of Internazionale.
~Italian~ "More of the same boys," He?d said at half time, the break one of the relaxed occasions between halves where it was more about a 10 minute rest and rehydration than a motivational speech. Water bottles squirted lazily into open mouths, teammates whispering quietly as the manager said his bit,
~Italian~ "If I could ask for one thing it'd be that you?re just a little more clinical in front of goal. Panisson that was an excellent first half, but don?t be afraid to shoot a little earlier; their goalie is anticipating having to rush out every time now. And Tafael, have a few runs at number 4 at the back, he looks worried any time an attack comes his way and isn't in the air."
Waiting on the referee's whistle he cast his eyes to the Roma players all staring with renewed interest and determination. Their coach was making faces The Manager had himself made in the past to try and convey just how important getting back into the game was.
A smile developed on his features as Gerrard and Akarsu both leant across together to impart their observations.
"I know guys," He said plainly, "Very clever."
One thing most managers fell foul of in the eyes of the fans and the board of directors was not having a plan B when their initial tactics failed to do the job.
Roma had dropped both centre mids back to protect the defensive four, the full backs easing up slightly looking ready to push forward, and the wingers pushed up to almost become strikers.
It formed their team into two halves, six bodies all back to shield the goal from an Inter attack before thumping it up to the now near permanently forward 4 other outfield players, who would from the looks in their eyes scrap and fight to try and get something back.
He wasn't worried about the formation, they'd dealt with the long ball many times, what worried him was the desire they were showing as the Roma captain, centre half, keeper, and one of the wingers even started shouting to one another with a passion he liked to instil in his own boys.
The referee got them underway, and at once Roma threw three of their attackers up to hover in line with the last man for Inter.
"Sons of ----" The Manager murmured, they would either have to play a high line and be on their toes to chase down any floated efforts, or play deep and soak up the pressure.
Gerrard offered his thoughts. "Why don't we stick as we are, since they are prepared to continue, and see if they deal with it? We've a two goal cushion after all."
He nodded, that would do. Roma were biding their time as Panisson and Tafael chased down the defence laying it off to one another, each player on the ball looking up to see what the state of play was before passing it across. Nakatani found himself joining the chase to try and put enough pressure for a mistake, Spearitt too dashing at one after another of their players to try and squeeze them out of options.
At last the centre back looked up with intent, striking his foot right through the ball to loft it high up the pitch.
Maurizio Albertini who had been favoured to play alongside his countryman Cipriano lined himself up to head the ball back out with ease, their striker hovering about him as their arms started to push and jostle.
The two men stepped backwards to get where it was coming down, Cipriano bringing himself ready to intervene should a knock down come his way. Albertini took just one more pace, arm resting over his opponent in anticipation for his jump. The Roma striker suddenly thundered a shoulder into him! On his heels Albertini wobbled, a hand clutching to the shirt of the number 10 Di Maio as his eyes whipped away from the oncoming long ball.
Too late, Di Maio spun him, accelerated with some power that the hand on his shirt had to release else earn a red card, and away the Roma striker went, collecting the ball at his feet like it was second nature.
Pat Richards came charging out as the last line of defence, massive thighs in a crab stance as his hands spread to look enormous. Di Maio dinked it sweetly to his right, Richards shifted his weight ready to go to ground, and left the striker went. The empty net barely rippled as the ball calmly rolled beyond the white line, its tame pace an insult of confidence this Roma side shouldn't have been displaying.
The capital's travelling support went mad with excitement, Di Maio rushing over to them with the standard arms held open in elation.
"Oh dear," Towler got up to stand before the two men in charge, "What do you think? He's looking pretty sharp this half that number 10."
"Mmmm," The Manager could only respond with, delving into his thoughts. They couldn't risk playing so high for the whole second half, as that goal would only encourage the Roma players to run at them even more now. The Inter two centre backs were pacey, but it wouldn't do to chance it happening again.
"Go to counter formation, we'll sit back and invite them on."
"Is that such a good idea?" Gerrard posed, "If we get possession and attack like the first half surely we'll limit their chances."
"Their defence look as though they are far more organised now," he took a breath as though trying to convince himself still, "no, I say we play deeper and rely on the wings."
Inter dropped back. Bad Call.
Roma launched themselves at the Internazionale back lines as the momentum lay completely with them, the home crowd silenced as the Roma support only grew in voice. Shots started to rain in from both flanks, the post was struck with a mighty close range effort from a headed corner, and at last their attacking midfielder Granata in the 77
th minute broke into space, received the ball, and bent a precious effort about the outstretched arm of Richards in goal as he flung himself to try and reach the top corner.
Inter dug in as the celebrations eventually died down, and hung on, a prospect at half time they haven't even dared to consider.
2 - 2.
((Boss Battle- Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (Original Score by Nigel Godrich) - YouTube))
Extra time reared its ugly head, an extra half an hour which was never wanted in a fixture both sides wanted to win within the 90 and move on, with two weeks of preparations still needed for the league to come. At least both Inter and Roma had by now thoroughly exhausted themselves with their efforts to try and end it before the signal at of normal time. Half an hour was up in no time; the words of both managers in the brief breaks merely to keep going, as if they both knew that it would be a shootout to decide the minor trophy.
Already he bemoaned the earlier decision with substitutes. Evgeny Shipulin their new Russian up front was just as adept as Sebastian Diaz had been at dispatching spot kicks, but had been poor in training the day before, resulting in his remaining on the bench and a further wait for his debut.
It wasn't that they didn?t have plenty of quality penalty takers, but you wanted your absolute best in a shootout for a trophy.
With Panisson substituted late in the 2
nd half, his replacement Englishman Simon Lincoln stepped up eager to make himself a hero.
A look to the top left corner, he waited for the whistle, racing up, bottom right. The keeper was staring hopelessly as it rolled beyond him.
1 - 0
Roma's first goalscorer Di Maio made the walk from the half way line, his teammates calls of their belief chasing after him. He placed it down on the paint, gave a solid look to Richards in goal.
Down the middle.
1 - 1
Eamon Spearritt, Internazionale's second new English international took his turn. Top left.
2 - 1
Roma sent their next best effort, Franco the right back. His eyes said he was going to bury this all day long. The whistle went.
He side footed it cool as you like down the middle; but Richards never moved!! Picking it up as though it had been intentionally passed to him, Franco slumped to his haunches as he felt the pains of embarrassment for his cocky ego demanding he try to look supreme.
2 - 1
Dexter Gace strode the journey. Top right, no one was saving that ever.
3 - 1
Roma's second scorer steeled himself, Granata. A puff of his chest as he blew out his breath, looking from the ball to Richards between the sticks.
Bottom right, Richards flung himself to extend right down to ****** a fingertip at it. Onto the post to roll harmlessly out!
3 - 1
Dutch master van Breugal to make himself the finish this shootout needed, stamp his authority and start the celebrations. The Inter fans behind the goal held their breath as they watched him place it, then adjust where the ball sat. He glanced as the bottom left, the bottom right, the Roma keeper shuffled on his feet, a pose as though he was a bear about to launch into attack.
The referee gave a sharp blast, van Breugal sprinted to the spot, lashed his boot at it to the left. Head height, the keeper hurled himself at it, desperation in his eyes as he drifted across, one arm stretched as far as the muscles would dare allow.
Into the back of the net. Inter romped it!
((The Black Seeds - One by One - YouTube))
The whole team tore towards Pat Richards, the new Welshman already a minor hero after that performance. Supporters chanted and jeered at the Roma fans who now had a dreary trudge south, only one flare sparking into existence in the crowd.
Not quite the statement of intent they'd planned upon, but the win would do, they could take heart from the stalling of Roma's spirited comeback.
That wasn't the attitude in training however.
View attachment 418096
"Come on you soppy wankers!!! RUN!!!"
Gerrard burst into laughter, "Most of them speak English, or
are English."
"Good, maybe it'll give them something to think about next time they're going to let flipping Roma back into a game. We should have won 6 - 0."
The team as they jogged in passing the staff they looked across at the mixture of cheery expressions offset by the Manager's attempts at stern. Lloyd Daniels found himself making eye contact with their commander in charge.
"Isn't that right Lloyd?!!!" He suddenly shouted, grabbing up a water bottle. Bursting into a sprint, it was evident that he meant something other than to join their run as a small bubble formed around the oncoming Manager. "6 nil in the first 20 minutes!
Hey?!!!"
The captain cracked a grin as The Manager chasing up behind him squirted water straight into his face, "Hey? Isn't that what you said?!" The bottle lowered to slap to the man's ****, a firm thwack as if to say 'get moving!'. The team let their laughter cover the scene as the captain sped up, back arched as he tried to steer clear of the next hit.
"You going to promise me a 6 nil next time as well? Are you?!!!"
26
th August - Serie A - Giuseppe Meazza - Udinese
View attachment 418090 2 - 0; Shipulin sets up Lincoln in the 1
st minute; Lincoln strides clear in the 90
th.
View attachment 504288 Champions League group stages drawn, Group E: Inter, Lyon, Galatasaray, FC Twente.
A moderate challenge in Europe, they could prepare easily enough for those fixtures. All three sides had a few danger players they'd watch the videos for, study the preferred moves and tricks. He wasn't too concerned.
~Italian~ "Ok everyone, long ball practice for the defenders."
A collective groan came out, that meant a lot of tussling with the giant Zelepukin and the ridiculously strong Cipriano.
~Italian~ "Don?t give me that! Wolves are our next opponents in the Euro Super Cup and they play the long ball, tall strikers who will bully if you?re not prepared. Yalcin?" He looked across to his coach.
~Italian~ "Myself, Aaron and Stevie will be playing in crosses, front left and right. We're going to be working on two different aspects- first the strength and jumping of being marked up. Second we want running onto, trying to nip into that space and steal a cheeky touch to deflect it in or lay it off for a shot. So! If the ball is cleared out of the box it's a point to the defence, if it beats the keeper its one to the attack. Side with least points at the end gets a lovely ice bath we've prepared."
The Manager gave a malicious laugh. No one, absolutely no one enjoyed an ice bath,
ever.
View attachment 418095 ~Italian~ "Alright lads lets get to it!" Gerrard cried as the three staff members snatched up their bags of footballs.
~Italian~ "Boss," Cipriano called out as the attacking and defending sides started to jog to position, his eyes to The Manager, "You going to be just be watching us again like some voyeur?"
~Italian~ "Haha! I hear he loves that ****!" van Breugal added.
~Italian~ "Oh! Is that a challenge? You want me to be getting involved? Are you sure you can handle that?"
~Italian~ "Bring it old man! I'll take you any day of the week!" The key defender beamed, an incredulous smile that didn't believe The Manager would actually join them.
~Italian~ "You're on, if I score you buy me..." He gave it a second to think, "a bottle of 1958 Macallan whiskey!"
Those paying attention chatted to one another, a question rising from the talk,
~Italian~ "That's got to cost-"
~Italian~ "Oh at least a good few thousand." He interrupted. Vito smiled, nodding.
~Italian~ "You don't score," A finger pointed with complete self assurance, "then you buy me one."
"Deal!" The Manager said, taking off the thin club training jacket to join them.
Somehow everyone was excited at that wager; it wasn?t the first one they'd made on the training ground and it wouldn't be the last. Likely it was more to do with the chance to knock their boss around a bit; in the penalty area the rules could always be bent a little, bit of shirt tugging here, strong push in the back there. You did whatever you could get away with to ensure you won the ball, and some were better at it than others.
6 ft 6 man mountain Zelepukin pushed aside his countryman Shipulin when he saw The Manager was joining them.
~Italian~ "Get your own," Cipriano ordered, "He?s mine!"
Yalcin Akarsu hoofed in the first cross, inswinging as their eyes trained on it, the jostling for position already started as friends chuckled trying to force one another out of the way; Lincoln hit the deck, Dubois had a full hand of Panisson's shirt. The Manager went to leap up for it, Cipriano hoisted himself alongside, a shoulder into his and The Manager tumbled sideways to the turf. Ype van Breugal got a forehead on it, Richards flapped as it tucked into the back of the net. The attackers cheered their first point.
Both hands pushing to the ground The Manager heaved up, his chest was thumping,
~Italian~ "Look we scored," he directed to his marker.
~Italian~ "I only need to stop
you from scoring." Vito grinned.
~Italian~ "Alright," he shrugged, "if you like ice baths that much."
Gerrard sunk his foot at the next cross, great height on it as it looked like it would descend right on the penalty spot. Richards made a move as if he wanted to come for it, but the box was so packed with the vast array of players there was no way he could climb above them all.
The Manager watched, backing into Cipriano as he thought he might dash to the edge of the area and steal a possible knockdown, find some space.
Vito suddenly bashed him hard in the back, a jolt as though he himself had been barged to one side, the swarm of men all vying to be the one to head it not caring who they slammed against.
Sudden pain shot through his body, his back where he'd been struck, but more than that....his heart, wrenching, seizing up. Failing. He hit the floor in a heap, a mess of limbs and body as the studded boots clattered around him to the chorus of excited banter. The ball was cleared, and as Maurizio Albertini cheered his success they reset themselves.
Except he stayed down. Hands clutching to his chest, his eyes seeing only the strands of grass pressed to his face. Panic and desperation.
"112!!!" Vito was shouting, "Ambulanza!!!"