I’m sad to say that, not for the first time this season, I didn’t make it to the game.
After missing out on tickets, I was left with a decision. I could have travelled anyway and watched the match in the home end, but after my experience in Pisa earlier in the season, I knew that wasn’t really an option. I’m not someone who can sit quietly, show no reaction, and pretend not to care. Football doesn’t work like that for me.
So, much to my wife’s delight, I accepted defeat. I lost the money on the flights and decided to stay in Florence and spend the weekend with her rather than head to Bari for Lecce vs Lazio.
Work (and timing, as ever)
Staying in Florence also meant being a good husband. I offered to cover my wife’s Saturday morning shift at work — she’d been doing too much lately, and I was genuinely happy to help.
Naturally, the very next day Janina messaged me to say she could get me a ticket.
Perfect timing. Or terrible timing.
I had a genuine dilemma, but Liosa was really pleased I was staying home, and I’d also booked important medical tests for Monday morning. Reluctantly, I turned the ticket down.
And besides, there’s an important motto to remember in moments like this:
“Happy wife… happy life.”
Saturday (Florence therapy)
After work, jealousy kicked in hard. Luca and Janina’s photos from Puglia started appearing, and the moment I saw Luca holding a polpo panino — an octopus sandwich that looked outrageously good — it hit me all over again.
To distract myself, we headed into town for some culture. It was the final day of the Fra Angelico exhibition at Palazzo Strozzi, and it was genuinely incredible. Still, even surrounded by Renaissance masterpieces, part of me wished I was in Puglia watching Lazio.
After the exhibition we booked a table at Vincenzo Capuano, one of the best pizzerias in the city. Before that, we stopped briefly at 7 Secco, an Argentine fusion place that felt a bit too tourist-heavy for our taste. Probably not one we’ll rush back to.
Capuano, though, delivered again. It was our second visit and once more it was excellent. Their signature golden scissors — used to cut the pizza — divided opinion. Liosa found it a bit gimmicky. I loved it.
With one eye on the clock, I suggested a final stop: Fitzpatrick’s Irish Pub & Restaurant. Purely for a drink, obviously. Just a happy coincidence that they have big TVs.
The match (via Guinness)
Watching Lazio from a pub stool felt strange. Detached, but not really. The performance, unfortunately, was familiar.
It wasn’t good. Again.
Lazio struggled to impose themselves, lacked fluency, and never really looked in control. In truth, we were lucky to come away with a point. On another day, with a bit more conviction from Lecce, we could easily have been punished.
As the final whistle blew, the most telling moment came not from the result but from what followed. Alessio Romagnoli walked over to the Curva to say goodbye. It felt loaded. Deliberate. Like a message.
Whether he’s already decided to leave or simply wants out, it was impossible not to read between the lines. The thought of losing another of our best players — especially one who has supported Lazio since childhood — is deeply depressing. It would hurt far more than just on a tactical level.
Domenica Bastardi — Matchday Experience
| Category | Details |
| Fixture | Lecce vs Lazio |
| Competition | Serie A |
| Location | Watched from Florence |
| Venue | Fitzpatrick’s Irish Pub |
| Travel | Cancelled flights |
| Food highlight | Vincenzo Capuano pizza |
| Beer consumed | Guinness |
| Result feeling | Relieved, but worried |
| Key moment | Romagnoli’s Curva goodbye |
| Overall mood | Frustrated acceptance |
Conclusion
Missing the game hurt, but watching it didn’t make things any easier.
Lazio were fortunate to take a point, and performances like this are becoming harder to defend. There’s a sense of drift, of unresolved tension, both on and off the pitch. Romagnoli’s gesture after the final whistle felt symbolic — another warning sign in a season full of them.
And yet, despite everything, the emotional attachment doesn’t fade. Even from a pub in Florence, with a Guinness in hand and Renaissance art still fresh in the mind, Lazio still manage to dominate the weekend.
This one wasn’t lived from the Curva. But it still left the same familiar feeling: uneasy, worried, and wondering what comes next.
