Björn, the wicked barman I met in Finland, was cutting. “San Marino is like the Åland Islands having their own league. You only need two barely functional legs and to be aged 18 to 40.” I was now 41, but San Marino was surely my best chance of playing a match on my travels.
San Marino was the lowest-ranked league based on club results in European competition over the previous five seasons. Only Kosovo, unable to accrue ranking points until they became a member of Uefa in 2016, had a lower coefficient. My chances of playing were improved further by watching the final round of matches in the regular league season. And I even chose a dead match, Murata against Virtus, involving the worst team in top‑division European football.
Murata had drawn one and lost 18 of their league matches and had a goal difference of minus 50.
I spoke to Matteo, an Italian follower of my travels who compiles San Marino statistics – appearances, goals and subjective attributes such as player values – for the computer game Football Manager. “That’s quite impossible,” he said when I asked about getting a game.
Understandable, I guessed, this being a Uefa league and not suitable for a washed-out amateur. But it wasn’t my lack of talent. “San Marino has a foreigners limit of seven, so it is unlikely the teams will leave a blank spot for you.” Even Italians were classified as foreigners unless they lived in the country.
I was in San Marino for two days in the spring sunshine. The views were astounding from the city walls: the Adriatic to the east, a snowy rut of mountains to the west. I walked through St Francis’s Gate, where a policeman was needlessly directing the limited traffic, and spotted some young English cyclists. They were wearing the instantly recognisable purple of Durham University, where I was president of the Football Supporters’ Society for one glorious year.
I met Luca from the San Marino Football Federation by the Palazzo Pubblico and gave a short interview for San Marino TV. Luca explained that notional home and away teams were randomly allocated to stadiums in San Marino. The league format was the most curious in Europe, with 15 teams split into two leagues – one of eight, another of seven – and the top three from each playing off for the title and European places over a further six rounds.
The part-timers of Murata and Virtus at the Fiorentino ground. Photograph: Matt Walker
San Marino had the craziest league with the latest kick-off times. My match started at 9.15pm. As in Andorra and Gibraltar, most of the players had been working during the day. Luca explained that San Marinese footballers tried to gain experience in amateur, semi‑professional or professional leagues in Italy. Although some played in San Marino because it was easier to manage the three essentials: work, family and football.
I asked about Davide Gualtieri. The bored-looking cameraman who spoke no English suddenly laughed. England needed to beat San Marino and pray to qualify for the 1994 World Cup. I vividly remember Stuart Pearce playing the underhit back pass that Gualtieri converted in the ninth second.
“He’s running an IT business now and he’s the supplier for the San Marino Football Federation. Everybody from abroad who talks about San Marino football says ‘Gualtieri, nine seconds’.”
His fame had spread to Scotland, where his holidaying brother had been bought drinks and a meal by jubilant Scots.
Murata against Virtus was being played at the Fiorentino ground, three miles downhill from the historic centre. Luca estimated 30 minutes’ walk, but I’m always sceptical about walking times quoted by people who drive everywhere. And San Marino is the king of cars. In 2014, the World Bank listed San Marino as having the highest number of cars per capita (1,263 per 1,000 people) of any country. “I didn’t know this statistic, maybe it’s some Italians with licence plates registered here,” said Luca.
I soon found that the biggest danger was the cars. The road clearly wasn’t designed for the few pedestrians in San Marino and I had to sidestep every time a car passed to make sure the vehicle didn’t clip me in the darkness. I really didn’t want to die in San Marino as I still had to get to Luxembourg the following day. After an hour’s walk, I was relieved to be greeted by the incessant barking of a white dog outside the ground.
Matt Walker being interviewed for San Marino television. Photograph: Courtesy of Matt Walker
I sat in the small stand and tried to ignore the irony that my longest walk to a stadium was in one of the world’s smallest countries. A bushy tabby cat dashed the full length of the pitch. I introduced myself to Giuseppe Canine, ‘Joseph Dogs’ he laughed, an Italian cameraman who was filming for a television highlights package. I was surprised by Giuseppe’s English. He had never been to England and had visited the United States once. “I learnt it from John Denver songs; I translated them into Italian.” He certainly spoke with a country twang.
Giuseppe recounted that an Italian journalist had visited a few years earlier and asked people whether they felt San Marinese or Italian. Everyone answered “San Marinese”. Giuseppe said that Italians would always think about themselves first and their country second. But not in patriotic San Marino.
This match had a retrospective feel. Both teams lined up in shirts numbered one to 11 in their normal positions. I was backing Murata, who were title winners three times in the mid-2000s but had struggled with finances and failed to attract better-quality players this season. They used to have a famous player; Aldair, the Roma and Brazil defender, had made 10 appearances at the age of 41. The club had even attempted to lure Michael Schumacher to play in their 2008 Champions League campaign. Luca thought Murata had a good chance to break their duck because Virtus might be focused on their Titano Cup quarter-final.
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Murata looked nervous from the start and were 6-1 down at half-time, Virtus’s fourth goal coming from the last of 23 top-flight penalties on my travels (four were missed, a highly respectable 83% conversion rate.)
The scoring inevitably slowed but winger Tedesco secured his hat-trick with the best goal of the night, a left-foot volley that zipped off the artificial pitch into the corner.
Matt Walker’s book is out now. Photograph: Quercus
Zannoni, a latter-day Andrea Pirlo, flicked a pass with the outside of his right boot – “pass bellissimo,” purred a voice behind me – for striker Ura to make it 8–1 to Virtus.
Only 22 people, one dog and a passing cat watched this thrashing, the lowest attendance and joint highest-scoring match of my travels.
Giuseppe secured his precious camera memory cards in a jar. I asked for a lift and saved my legs from a lengthy trek up the mountain. “You will be OK in Luxembourg,” said Giuseppe. “At least it’s flat for walking.”
This is an edited chapter from Matt Walker’s Europe United, published by Quercus Books and available as a hardcover or ebook.
Source link : https://www.theguardian.com/football/2019/oct/17/san-marino-european-football-worst-top-division-team-matt-walker-book
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Publish date : 2019-10-18 07:00:00
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