Matchday 11 took me north to a stadium that needs no introduction — the San Siro for Inter vs Lazio — and for once, the build-up felt almost… relaxed.
Tickets were plentiful, the allocation was huge, and at just €11 for the away end, it was one of the cheapest trips of the season.
Even better, this was the first time I’d get to travel with Simone this year. No last-minute chaos, no scrambling for seats or hotel rooms — just two Laziali hitting the road before sunrise, determined to make it there and back in a single day.
Despite knowing exactly what awaited me — that infamous, thigh-burning climb up to the terzo anello (third ring) — I couldn’t help feeling a surge of excitement as the San Siro came back into view.
There’s something about that old concrete giant, its spiralling ramps and its big-game aura, that hits you every time.
Inter away isn’t just another match; it’s a pilgrimage. And after the madness of recent weeks, it felt good to be on the road again with a fellow Laziale, heading into one of football’s great cathedrals.
Inter and Lazio: A Complicated Gemellaggio
Inter and Lazio share one of the most well-known gemellaggi in Italian football — a long-standing friendship between the two sets of ultras built on mutual respect, shared values in the terraces, and decades of solidarity.
On most matchdays, you still feel it: the chants exchanged, the banners raised in honour of the other club, and a general atmosphere that’s far friendlier than the average Serie A rivalry.
But like with any long relationship, the story hasn’t been without tension. In fact, in recent years, the bond has been tested more than once for some fans.
The biggest recent fracture came with Simone Inzaghi. For Lazio fans, Inzaghi wasn’t just a coach — he was one of our own: a former player, a youth coach, a Coppa Italia winner, and a man who had spent decades inside the club.
His decision to jump ship for Inter — after verbally agreeing to renew with Lazio — felt like a betrayal. It didn’t break the gemellaggio, but it didn’t help.
Then there are the players. Acerbi and De Vrij both moved from Lazio to Inter, and neither transfer is remembered fondly in Rome.
Acerbi’s departure — followed by certain attitudes and gestures — turned him into a villain for many Laziali.
De Vrij? His infamous final-day performance against Inter in 2018, when a Champions League spot was on the line, remains one of the rawest memories of recent Lazio history. To many fans, seeing both of them wearing Inter’s colours only deepened the resentment.
And this isn’t new. Lazio fans remember the early 2000s as well, when Roberto Mancini left Rome for Milan and brought several Lazio players with him. At the time, it felt like Inter were plucking the spine out of a team that had only just come down from its glory years. The gemellaggio survived that too — but not without bruises.
Yet despite all the upheaval — coaches leaving, players defecting, betrayals real or perceived — the bond in the stands remains. Lazio and Inter ultras still greet each other with respect; away fans are still treated with more warmth here than almost anywhere else; and the connection formed decades ago still resonates, even if the modern football world keeps trying to test it.
In the chaos of contemporary Serie A, where loyalty is rare and transfers often sting, the gemellaggio stands as a reminder that some things still belong to the fans — even when the clubs themselves make it complicated.
Simone’s Decision
About a week before the match, Simone messaged me out of the blue: he and Nicholas were heading to Milan — did I want to come with them? Easy answer. I’ve missed going to games with Simone this season, and the idea of doing Inter away together instantly lifted my mood. Even better, his plan meant no scrambling for trains, no pricey hotel, no logistical stress. We’d drive up and back in the same day.
By the time everything was organised, there were five of us in the car, which brought the cost right down — just €30 each for petrol, tolls, and parking. For a trip to the San Siro, that’s practically a bargain. It felt like the perfect setup: good company, cheap travel, and one of the biggest fixtures of the season.
The Journey
The trip north couldn’t have started more smoothly. We met in Calenzano, outside Ristorante Il Portico, where we picked up Nicholas, Luca and Janina before hitting the road. The mood in the car was relaxed — the kind of easy, early-morning calm you only get when everything’s gone exactly to plan.
At one point, Luca turned around and asked for my prediction. He went bold: “2–0 victory.” Then insisted I had to be positive. The problem was… I wasn’t. Deep down I feared a 4–0 battering, but in the spirit of keeping things vaguely upbeat, I compromised with a 2–0 defeat. Technically more positive, but not exactly buzzing with optimism.
We reached Milan in good time and parked in the away fans’ car park that Nicholas had cleverly booked for just €20. Before heading in, Luca, Janina and I tucked into sandwiches and a couple of beers the guys had brought along, while Simone — ever the sensible one — stuck to a healthier snack.
Then came that moment you only get at San Siro: stepping out and seeing those iconic concrete towers rising into the sky. No matter how many times you visit, the place hits you.
As we made our way towards the entrance, we spotted Radu — the Lazio legend who somehow seems to be at every game, home or away. The whole approach felt surprisingly calm.
In fact, it was more relaxed than many home matches at the Olimpico. Almost like going to a game in England: organised, no stress, no chaos — just football fans heading into one of the world’s great stadiums.
Third Ring
The climb to the terzo anello is one of football’s great tests of patience — a spiral that feels absolutely endless.
We just kept walking, round and round, floor after floor, until I found myself channelling childhood holidays, asking the eternal question that used to drive my dad mad: “Are we there yet?” Some things never change.
When we finally emerged into the stand, we grabbed a spot near the ultras, right in the thick of it. Simone headed off to the bathroom, but when he returned he wasn’t convinced about staying — the flags were huge, constant, and would’ve made it hard to actually watch the match. I wasn’t about to leave him on his own, so while Luca and Janina stayed put, I followed Simone a little further along.
We found a perfect compromise: still surrounded by the noise, colour and chaos of the away end, but with a clear view of the pitch. The atmosphere was electric, the view was solid, and after that endless climb, it felt good just to settle in and take it all in.
The Game
If there’s a worse way to start a match at the San Siro, I don’t want to know it. Lazio’s afternoon collapsed almost immediately, with two disastrous early errors gifting Inter the kind of advantage they simply don’t need at home. Before we’d even settled into our spot in the third ring, we were already chasing the game.
The opener came from a sloppy mistake by Isaksen — the kind that drains the life out of you before the contest has even begun. Inter pounced, punished, and the stadium roared into life. The second wasn’t much better: another lapse, another avoidable moment, another reminder of how cruel matches like this can be. Sarri’s face on the touchline said it all.
To make matters worse, the referee didn’t help. A series of strange decisions, soft whistles, and non-calls only added to the frustration. After the match, Sarri didn’t hold back, openly criticising the officiating and insisting the game had been tilted by key errors beyond Lazio’s control. For once, it didn’t feel like an excuse — just an honest assessment of what we’d all seen.
Yet, strangely, despite the scoreline and the chaos of the start, Lazio actually played okay. Once we settled, we moved the ball well, created decent moments, and kept Inter pinned back for stretches.
The effort was there, the structure was there, and for long periods we looked like a team capable of pulling something back. But when you spot Inter two goals in their own stadium, you’re climbing a mountain with no grip.
After the full-time whistle, Isaksen posted a public apology for his part in one of the errors — a tough moment for a player who works hard and cares deeply.
The Lazio fans appreciated the accountability; nobody doubted his commitment. It was just one of those days where everything that could go wrong, did.
A 2–0 defeat, but not a 2–0 performance. Lazio weren’t terrible — just punished, early and brutally, by a clinical side in a ruthless stadium. Sometimes that’s all it takes.
After the Final Whistle
When the game ended, the mood among us was exactly what you’d expect: completely miserable. Losing 2–0 is one thing, but losing it the way we did — two early gifts, a referee who seemed determined to make everything harder, and the feeling that we’d actually played well enough to deserve more — just made it all the more painful.
We had a short wait before being allowed out, which felt even more irritating given the twinning between Inter and Lazio. You’d think it would speed things up, but no — annoyance seems to be part of the away-day package this season.
While Simone was in the portable toilet before the long drive back, I turned to Luca in sheer frustration and just muttered: “Porco Dio!”
He burst out laughing: “Now you’re becoming a real Italian, Scott!”
For the record — and for anyone not fluent in Italian blasphemy — “Porco Dio” is about as strong as it gets. In English, the strongest swear words tend to be sexual; in Italian, the truly powerful ones are blasphemous. Saying God is a pig definitely crosses into that territory… but after a defeat like that, it slipped out naturally.
The journey home felt endless. I don’t think we even stopped — all of us just wanted to get back, regroup, and forget the day as quickly as possible. Simone did brilliantly behind the wheel, steady and focused all the way back to Tuscany.
We rolled into Florence, and after thanking the guys I grabbed my e-scooter and glided through the quiet, half-asleep streets toward home. When I finally put the key in the door, it was 3:15 a.m. I was shattered — physically, mentally, emotionally. Another chapter of Domenica Bastardi written… whether I liked it or not.
Matchday Experience
| Category | Details |
| Stadium Name | San Siro (Stadio Giuseppe Meazza), Milan |
| Attendance | 72,000+ (approx., near full house) |
| Ticket Price | €11 (Away fans – exceptional value) |
| Travel Costs | €30 each (car share: petrol + tolls + parking) |
| Parking | €20 (pre-booked away fans’ car park) |
| Beer-o-Meter 🍺 | ★★★★☆ (4/5) – Beers in the car park and good availability around the stadium; no chaos, relaxed pre-match vibe |
| Food | Sandwiches brought by the group; limited stadium options once inside the third ring |
| Weather | Mild and dry — ideal for a winter trip to Milan |
| Atmosphere | Electric in both ends; strong Inter–Lazio gemellaggio vibe but tension from recent history added spice |
| Highlight of the Day | Travelling with Simone again and that first glimpse of the San Siro towers rising above the city |
| Lowlight of the Day | Two early errors killing the match before it even began |
| Overall Experience | A classic pilgrimage to a legendary stadium: cheap tickets, great company, unforgettable atmosphere — but undone by a nightmare start on the pitch |
Conclusion
Inter away was always going to be tough, but this trip carried that familiar blend of hope, frustration, camaraderie, and exhaustion that defines the Domenica Bastardi journey.
The price was cheap, the company was brilliant, and the San Siro — for all its concrete madness — still gives you that goosebump feeling every time you see those towers rise above the city.
But in the end, the story of the day was decided in those first chaotic minutes: two costly errors, a questionable referee, and a mountain we were never quite equipped to climb.
Yet even in defeat, there were positives. We played better than the scoreline suggests, patches of real courage and organisation shining through in the middle of the chaos.
And the human moments — travelling with Simone again, Luca’s blind optimism, Janina’s laughter, the shared beers in the car park, spotting Radu, even my first full-blooded “Porco Dio” — reminded me why these trips matter.
They’re not just about the football. They’re about the ritual, the stories, and the people you share them with.
The gemellaggio with Inter added its own layer of complexity: warm respect in the stands, lingering bitterness from past betrayals, and the strange mix of friendship and tension that only Italian football can produce. Another chapter in a relationship that, like this season, never seems to follow a simple script.
By the time I got home at 3:15 a.m., shattered and still replaying the goals in my head, it hit me again: this project isn’t called Domenica Bastardi by accident. Some Sundays beat you down. Some remind you why you keep coming back. And some, like this one, manage to do both.
On to the next battle — and hopefully, a little less chaos.
