Domenica Bastardi – Game 20 of 38: Hellas Verona vs Lazio – trains, scarves and Lazio friends

Hellas Verona away is usually one of those fixtures you circle early: a proper old-school ground, a manageable trip, and a chance to reconnect with familiar faces from across the Lazio diaspora. This one, though, started long before kick-off — and not in the way I’d planned.

I’d gone into the day with a small superstition on my side. I knew I’d be meeting Simone at the game, and I had my second Lazio scarf with me — the very same one Simo had used at Parma vs Lazio, which obviously meant it had become a lucky charm. Football logic. Non-negotiable. Just as important, though, was the chance to see a mix of Italian and international Lazio friends again — something that, for me, is almost as vital as the ninety minutes themselves.

Travel plans (and how God laughed)

The plan was simple enough: leave early by train, meet Nigel, Francesco and the rest — including Verona’s most famous Scottish fan — and ease gently into matchday. But as the old joke goes, how do you make God laugh? You tell him your plans.

The moment I arrived at Santa Maria Novella, the screen told the story: every train coming up from Rome delayed by at least an hour. Game over. After a quick, calculated rethink, I messaged Simone. He and Ladislav were leaving at 2pm by car — and without hesitation they came to the rescue. Compared to hanging around a station watching delays stack up, it was an easy call. Back on the tram, back home, bag repacked — crisis averted.

On arrival: calm, beer, Curva logistics

We rolled into Verona smoothly. Ladislav and I grabbed a beer before heading in — a far cry from the chaos of Parma away — and entry was refreshingly calm. Inside, the usual choreography kicked in: bumping into Lids and Giulia on their way to the lower tier, then Luca and Janina, with Luca flagging that the Ultras might not be travelling to Lecce later that morning. One of those conversations that immediately plants a seed of uncertainty about the next trip.

Somewhere between the steps and the top tier I managed to lose Simone and Ladislav entirely — a recurring away-day theme. I immediately saw Matt, did a quick scan for familiar faces, then ducked off for a cheeky toilet stop and another beer before settling in.

Lazio friends (said like The Inbetweeners)

Anyone who’s watched The Inbetweeners will hear Simon and Will sneering “football friends” — except for me it’s very much Lazio friends, and proudly so.

Originally I’d hoped to meet Francesco, Nigel, Jin and others — plus Rick Hough, Scotland’s most famous Verona supporter and author of Verona Campione: The Miracle of 85. Plans changing meant I missed Rick this time, but Nigel and co had already had a day to remember: breakfast in Bologna with his hero Beppe Signori, then bumping into Lazio legend Alen Bokšić en route to the away end.

Once inside, I spotted them instantly — Nigel’s flag is impossible to miss. Alongside him were John, Andi, Lucio and Federico, a Lazio fan from London. When Nigel went to introduce us, we both laughed: we’d already met about eight years ago at a grim derby defeat, 4–1 down with the Ultras in full boycott mode. Shared trauma is a powerful thing.

I even remembered where Federico had stayed for the Juventus game — the River Château — which slightly freaked him out until I reminded him I’d been sprinting back there myself after Liosa had been robbed and I had to rush back to Florence.

I love meeting Nigel. I’m dedicated — Florence now, Ireland and England before — but the time, effort and expense that Nigel (and Jin) put into following Lazio is on another level. I’m lucky to have Liosa’s full support, but my respect for Jin is huge: warm, generous, and always ready to jump into another Lazio adventure.

Standing there in Verona, surrounded by this mix of accents, stories and shared history, it hit me again: this is why I travel. The football matters — of course it does — but it’s these connections, these Lazio friends, that make days like this unforgettable.

The match

From the first whistle, this felt like one of those away games where you settle in knowing patience would be key. Verona kept things tight, tried to make it scrappy, and looked to disrupt rhythm rather than let the game flow. Lazio, meanwhile, were measured — not spectacular, but controlled — probing, recycling possession, and waiting for moments rather than forcing them.

There was a little extra buzz when it was announced new signing Taylor was starting, making his Lazio debut. You could feel the curiosity ripple around the away end: fresh legs, a fresh face, and that familiar mix of optimism and hope that every debut brings. He slotted in neatly, kept things simple, and didn’t look overawed by the occasion — always a good sign on a tricky away day like this.

Later on came another talking point: the tall Serbian striker entering the fray. His presence immediately changed the dynamic up top, giving Lazio a more direct option and something different for Verona’s defenders to think about. Even when he wasn’t involved directly, his physicality stretched the back line and created space for others to work in.

In the stands, the game had its own rhythm. Matt and I were very much in our element, enjoying a good few beers as the minutes ticked by — the kind of steady, sociable drinking that just feels right on an away day. At one point, Andi very kindly appeared with a surprise beer for me mid-game, which instantly elevated the experience from good to elite. Moments like that are pure away-end gold.

It wasn’t a classic, but it didn’t need to be. Debuts, changes from the bench, solid game management — and a steady supply of beer shared among friends. Sometimes that’s exactly what an away match is all about.

The exit

At full time we stayed put and applauded the team as they came over to the away end. It hadn’t been a vintage performance, but nobody was complaining — three points were the priority, and the players knew it. There’s something very satisfying about acknowledging a job done, even when it’s been more graft than glamour.

Then came the biggest surprise of the day. No waiting. No kettling. No slow shuffle down concrete ramps. We were immediately let out. I genuinely don’t think that’s ever happened to me at an away game in Italy before. Usually you brace yourself for a good 30–60 minutes (or more) of standing around replaying the match in your head. This time? Straight out. Bliss.

Unfortunately, in my rush to enjoy this rare efficiency, I’d made a critical error: I hadn’t gone to the toilet. What followed was a quiet but rising sense of panic. I sheepishly asked Simone if we could stop at the next Autogrill because I was desperate. To his eternal credit, he immediately put his foot down like we were chasing a Champions League place.

When we pulled in, I ran — and I mean ran. Faster than prime Usain Bolt. I burst into the first toilet I saw… which, to my shame, was a disabled one. Needs must. I regret nothing. It may well have been the best wee of my life.

After that, the rest of the journey was an absolute dream. Calm, comfortable, and full of relief — in every sense.

Conclusion

This was a much-needed three points, earned the hard way and enjoyed all the more for it. The performance might not live long in the memory, but the result certainly will — especially as it completed the double over Hellas Verona.

Add in the travel drama, the rescue mission, the laughs, the beers, the friendships, and even the Autogrill sprint, and it became another reminder of why these away days matter so much. Not always pretty — but always worth it.