Another trip to the San Siro — but this one wasn’t supposed to be solo.
Originally, the plan had been for Liosa to join me, a rare chance to turn a tough away day into a little weekend escape. But as football (and life) loves to remind us, plans don’t always survive first contact with reality. A last-minute change meant I was suddenly heading north alone, backpack on, headphones in, and the familiar feeling of away-day solitude settling in.
It came on the back of the Lecce match, where the Ultras’ boycott had cast a shadow long before kickoff. That whole situation was still lingering in the background — a reminder of the emotional turbulence around the club. But here, against Milan, the focus would shift back to the pitch. This was always going to be a hard game: an organised side, a hostile stadium, and a fixture that rarely gives you anything for free.
Journey & Hotel
For the trip up, I opted for Italo — making the most of my points and snagging a free journey home. Sadly the way there wasn’t quite so kind on the wallet: €50 just to get myself to Lombardy. Still, compared to the usual chaos of buses or awkward connections, it felt like the cleanest option.
Accommodation was another story. I found a very reasonable place — technically a hostel — for €60. The catch? A shared bathroom. But honestly, with my train back leaving first thing, I knew I’d barely be there long enough to care. Drop the bag, shower, sleep, leave. That was the plan.
It wasn’t glamorous, but away days rarely are. And maybe that’s part of the charm.
Meeting Simon
Before heading to the stadium, I met up with my friend Simon — an Englishman from Oxford who somehow ended up with a Milan season ticket. He still lives in Oxford, but whenever life allows, he jumps on a plane and heads straight for San Siro. Only in Italy do you meet supporters like that: geographically confused but completely devoted.
We spent the late morning wandering around the city and eventually stopped for lunch: a proper Cotoletta alla Milanese and a couple of beers. Simple, perfect, and exactly the kind of pre-match ritual I love. I don’t know Milan well at all, so having someone who knows every corner, shortcut, and café made a huge difference. He pointed out places I’d never even noticed and gave me a list of brilliant recommendations for future trips — especially ones with Liosa.
One thing that always strikes me about Milan is just how efficient their metro is. Fast, clean, logical — the complete opposite of the chaos of Roman transport. We hopped across the city with ease and headed early towards the San Siro for a walk around the stadium.
At one of the kiosks I made the mistake of ordering a ‘grande’ beer instead of a ‘media’. When the vendor handed it over, I actually laughed. It was huge — a proper two-handed job. Naturally, I finished it. You can’t waste beer on an away day, especially at the San Siro.
I was also due to meet one of my former students, Giuseppe, who I’d last seen before the Como game. He’s an actor now and does some work for Milan. A great guy — full of stories, full of energy. It was brilliant seeing him again. The three of us — me, Simon, and Giuseppe — stood outside chatting about football: Lazio, Milan, Juventus, all the old giants, all the great players we’d seen over the years.
Then Giuseppe introduced us to one of the heads of police near the away section. Only in Italy do you end up talking calcio with a Laziale, a Milanista, a Juventino, and an Interista all at once — each with completely different opinions, memories, and grievances. It was the perfect Italian football moment: rivalries, respect, humour, and decades of shared obsession.
The head of police talked about the greats he’d seen but reflected on one big error — when Roberto Carlos arrived at Inter Milan in 1995 as one of the most exciting young full-backs in the world, yet the club never truly understood how to use him. Roy Hodgson insisted he play as a traditional left-back in a rigid defensive system, limiting the Brazilian’s explosive, attacking qualities. Inter wanted discipline; Roberto Carlos wanted freedom. The clash of philosophies meant the club didn’t see him as the right fit, and after just one season he was allowed to leave — a mistake that became one of the most infamous in Inter’s history once he blossomed into a legend at Real Madrid.
Eventually it was time to enter. I said goodbye to Simon, and Giuseppe walked me all the way to the gate before we parted ways — another reminder that football isn’t just about the match, but about the people you cross paths with because of it.
Going In
After the first couple of security checks, just as I was settling into the rhythm of the San Siro entry process, I suddenly heard my name being called. I turned and saw Janina — and seconds later, Luca appeared too. One of those perfect away-day coincidences.
We walked together toward the next ticket checkpoint, chatting about our chances, recent form, and all the usual pre-match hopes and pessimism that come with following Lazio away from home.
Then came the “lovely” part of every San Siro away day: the endless climb up to the terzo anello, step after step after step, spiralling into the sky. But somehow this time, once we reached the top, I wasn’t even out of breath — a genuine miracle.
As we reached the concourse, I mentioned that for the Parma game hopefully Simone would come along too. Then I said my goodbyes to Janina and Luca and set off to find Matt, who had only landed a couple of hours earlier but was already in full away-day mode.
After taking a wrong turn and doing a small lap of the stadium, I finally spotted him. We immediately headed off for a beer.
Beer Shock
That’s when Matteo — my friend from Rome — appeared. He found us almost instantly, pointed at my drink, and said:
“Ah, you’re on the non-alcoholic beer!”
I stared at him, confused, and he held up a bottle of sambuca he’d smuggled in, adding:
“This is why I brought this — Inter allow alcohol, Milan don’t.”
Matt and I just looked at each other, stunned. Because the beer actually tasted fine. Suspiciously fine. But the idea that we were drinking alcohol-free beer at the San Siro of all places felt tragic.
Still disappointed — and feeling slightly betrayed — we carried on drinking our supposedly innocent beers.
A couple of minutes later, Matteo’s friends arrived, took one look at our faces and burst out laughing:
“Don’t worry — they’re alcoholic!”
The relief was instant.
Suddenly the world made sense again. The beers tasted better, the mood lifted, and the whole night felt back on track. Naturally, that meant we were absolutely having a few more.
The Game
From the moment we stepped into the terzo anello, the away end was alive. Loud, constant, relentless — the kind of Lazio support that feels like a single voice rather than a collection of individuals.
Before kickoff, the Curva-style choreography from the travelling Laziali made the third ring feel like our home. Flags, banners, colour — even up among the clouds, it looked and sounded spectacular.
On the pitch, it was the type of match we expected: tense, tactical, with both sides cautious but dangerous when the spaces opened. Lazio were organised, disciplined, and very much in the game.
Then came the turning point.
A loose ball broke down the left for Milan, and Rafael Leão did what Rafael Leão does — exploded into life. A quick burst of acceleration, a shift of balance, and suddenly he cut inside and slotted past our keeper with that effortless calm he has. It was a moment of pure individual quality, and it tilted the match their way.
Even after going behind, we kept playing, kept battling, kept carving out half-chances. And then came the incident: the clear penalty shout. Handball in the box — exactly the kind of moment VAR exists for.
But not this time.
The referee checked VAR but somehow still refused to give a penalty. The away end erupted in disbelief — arms thrown up, chants overflowing with frustration. You travel hundreds of kilometres, climb the San Siro’s endless towers, endure beer confusion… and then VAR decides to add insult to injury.
It felt like a defining moment. A goal denied at one end, a goal conceded at the other. And yet, the support never dipped. If anything, it grew louder.
We pushed until the final whistle, but it wasn’t to be.
Still — the pride in that away end was undeniable
.Matchday Experience
| Category | Details |
| Fixture | AC Milan vs Lazio |
| Competition | Serie A, 2025–26 |
| Date | 29th November 2025 |
| Kick-Off | Evening match – under the lights at San Siro |
| Stadium | San Siro (Giuseppe Meazza), Milan |
| Sector | Terzo Anello – Away End |
| Attendance | Approx. 73,156 |
| Result | Milan win – goal from Rafael Leão |
| Lazio Highlights | Disciplined shape, strong away support, relentless singing |
| Controversy | Clear penalty shout denied; poor refereeing (again) |
| Choreography | Superb display from the travelling Laziali – flags, colour, noise from start to finish |
| Beer-o-Meter | 🍺🍺🍺🍺/5 — Initial panic over “non-alcoholic” beer, followed by relief when confirmed alcoholic. Sambuca cameo from Matteo added to the experience. |
| Food | Pre-match cotoletta with Simon; snacks as needed on the way home. |
| Travel | Italo – €50 outbound, free return with points |
| Accommodation | €60 hostel – shared bathroom, too hot, minimal sleep, and unfortunately questionable hygiene (possible bed bugs) |
| Companions | Simon, Giuseppe, Janina, Luca, Matt, Matteo (+ his friends) |
| Memorable Moments | Leão’s opener, VAR chaos, beer confusion, Laziali chants on the metro, stumbling upon the open San Siro metro stop |
| Overall Rating | ⭐⭐⭐⭐☆ — A tough match but an unforgettable away-day experience in one of football’s great stadiums |
Conclusion
Walking back into Florence with barely any sleep, a delayed train, and a suspicious number of bites probably wasn’t how I imagined this away day ending — but that’s the reality of following Lazio on the road. You plan, you hope, you adjust, you endure… and somehow you still come home with stories worth telling.
Milan away reminded me why these trips matter. Not because of the result — Leão’s moment of brilliance and the VAR farce still sting — but because of everything around it. The friends you bump into at random. The beers (alcoholic or otherwise). The climb to the terzo anello. The chants echoing through the metro. The police officer, the actor, the Oxford Milanista… the strange little community that forms every time you put on a scarf and step onto a train.
Even alone, it never really felt like a solo journey.
Yes, the hostel was a disaster and yes, I’ll be scratching for a few days — but I got back early to spend the day with Liosa, and that made the whole messy adventure worth it.
Another San Siro trip done. Another chapter of Domenica Bastardi. Another reminder that supporting Lazio isn’t easy, but it’s always unforgettable.
On to Bologna at home then Parma away — hopefully with Simone this time, and definitely with better accommodation if needed!
