Dave’s Ramblings – Napoli

January 30, 2026 Admin

Apologies in advance if it’s longer than usual, and isn’t all about the game 😂

So it’s match day, and overnight it’s been confirmed that a Chelsea fan was stabbed. From the sound of it with a screwdriver. Thankfully, his injuries aren’t serious, but it’s still completely bonkers that the police in Naples appear to have no real control over their own city. And they seem to be happy with having it that way.

The official advice is reassuring in the way only bureaucracy can manage. Don’t walk alone, avoid isolated areas (whatever those may be), don’t wear any colours at all, (maybe go naked?) and absolutely don’t use public transport or attempt to find your own way to the stadium. Simple enough.

UEFA, of course, will happily cause a minor international incident if you bring a banner they don’t approve of, yet seem perfectly content to do nothing about the regular, and well documented trouble that follows the “Ultras” in Naples and, to be fair, in plenty of other Italian cities as well.

Every football club, ours included, will have some fans who seem more interested in martial arts than the actual game of football. That’s unfortunate but hardly unique. What is unique is the police response, which appears to be a collective shrug and the suggestion that it’s not really their problem.

Their solution is for everyone to make their way to a designated “safe zone” and then be bussed to the stadium from there. No explanation of how you’re meant to safely reach this safe zone, of course, but once you’re on the bus, apparently everything will be fine.

Sadly, this isn’t an issue UEFA will ever care about. At least until someone actually loses their life. Until then, their priorities remain reassuringly consistent. Counting the money, issuing stern statements, and running the game firmly in their own interests.

Player safety, supporter safety, basic responsibility, all important, of course, just not important enough to get in the way of the business model.

So, being grown up (and sometimes sensible people), we decided to take the advice given and take the police escorted bus.

The question has to be why? Why? Why?

From getting to the harbour to arriving at the ground was around 2 hours. I could have walked it quicker. FYI it’s around 4 miles.

Then there were the checks.

Before boarding the bus they take your photo, then one of your passport.

Next up, spend what felt like half your life on the bus then, when you get off, your passport and photo are obviously checked again. That’s just in case you morphed into someone else during your time on the bus.

A quick pat down, ticket checked again, you can then either join the queue for the portacabin toilets, or the one for water. One little cubicle. Seriously?!

I know, I know… 5900 words and the games not kicked off yet! But trust me, this is not the way paying guests to a country should be treated. I’ve seen more police tonight, some nice, some especially aggressive, than I’ve seen in the last two days. Perhaps, if they focused on the issues they have with crime in the city, instead of acting hard with a load of Chelsea fans just wanting to watch their team, life would be better for all!

The fact that getting to the ground, and then actually into it, took roughly the same amount of time as flying here from Luton, tells you everything you need to know about organisational philosophy at work. Namely none, and certainly not one involving people.

The match? Well, it started well. Handball. Penalty. Enzo stepped up and calmly dispatched it, and for a brief, beautiful moment we were ahead. What could possibly go wrong? Well, quite a lot as it happens!

Napoli, up until then, had been enjoying what can only be described as a light pre-match nap. Our goal acted like an espresso shot. Suddenly, they were awake, lively, and creating chances for fun. Several warnings were ignored before they deservedly equalised in the 33rd minute.

I was astonished to hear it was the scorers first goal for the club, mainly because we made it look like he’d been scoring for them weekly since 2018. To be fair, although we rolled out the red carpet and offered directions, he still created and finished it very well.

Their fans went absolutely wild, naturally, while we collectively exhaled, stared into the distance, and wondered why hope is such a dangerous thing.

Ten minutes later things somehow got worse. Man Utd reject Højlund beat Fofana to the ball to put them ahead and sent the Napoli faithful into absolute raptures. We were quietly on our phones working out who we’d be playing in the play-offs. They were having a full-scale carnival to celebrate qualifying for the same play-offs we were trying to avoid.

For a brief, horrifying moment, it looked like we could be doing it all again in a couple of weeks. Please no!

I learnt long ago not to count your chickens, mainly because football exists purely to humiliate anyone who tries. Half-time arrived with Liam rolling the dice and bringing on Palmer for the inefficient Neto, who had contributed generously in terms of running about but little else.

Things didn’t immediately improve because, well why would they, but eventually we switched to four at the back, a decision that appeared to unlock the radical tactical innovation known as playing football. And almost instantly, after the introduction of Trevoh, we were inexplicably back in it.

Cole Palmer slipped the ball to João Pedro, who shrugged off a challenge like it was a mild inconvenience and absolutely leathered the ball past the keeper.

Suddenly, we were the noisy ones. Napoli’s fans fell into stunned silence, collectively realising that, as things stood, they were very much on the wrong side of the out column.

Then, on 82 minutes, because drama demands it, the same Palmer/Pedro combination struck again. This time Pedro went for the subtle option, calmly sliding the ball through the keeper’s legs like he was doing him a personal favour.

Gooooooaaaaalll!

At this point we were able to put our phones down, secure in the knowledge that we were somehow in the top eight and had earned the ultimate luxury. Two midweeks with absolutely nothing to ruin our lives.

Naturally, there was still time for Lukaku to attempt murder by heart attack, smashing the ball goalwards late on. Thankfully Sanchez got in the way, medical emergencies were avoided, and we were through.

Who would have thought it. Certainly not us!

After the game, it was time for the traditional post-match entertainment. More of the same old nonsense, now presented for our safety.

For our safety, we were kept in the ground for an hour.

For our safety, we were then herded onto buses to take us back to the city centre.

For our safety, those buses then sat completely still for about 30 minutes, presumably to allow danger to lose interest and wander off.

For our safety, we were finally driven on what can only be described as the scenic route of doom, taking in every street, alley and philosophical concept Naples has to offer, before arriving back at the harbour.

And finally, for our safety, we were deposited at the harbour after 1.00am, with no public transport and roughly 14 taxis available for about 1,600 people. Left to find our way back onto the streets they told us weren’t safe. Go figure.

A masterclass in both logic and logistics!

Thankfully, everyone remained good-natured. We had won. We were through. And crucially, it wasn’t raining, which felt like a small but important mercy.

I won’t say too much more about events before and after the match, except this. There were almost as many police there as there were us, and every single one of them appeared to be auditioning for a role on ‘extremely serious and grumpy men’ Season 4.

History has shown that if you treat people like animals, they sometimes behave like animals. Chelsea fans, however, are clearly built differently. Despite constant provocation and delays that achieved absolutely nothing, everyone behaved impeccably.

I can only assume that while counting their generous overtime pay, the Naples police were quietly devastated that they didn’t get the opportunity to raise a baton or shield in anger.

In the end, we were the ones smiling.

They were the ones who lost.

Onwards and upwards. UTC 💙

Dave M