[FM08] American Calcio

Saturday, November 3
The news today is that I’ve decided to change my penalty-taker (again) for the short term. Muzzi will get the responsibility until Eder’s mood changes.

We had a light training session today and a little video work before I sent the squad home for the afternoon. Aside from our long-term injury situation, we are in reasonably good health for tomorrow’s match and I’d sort of like to keep it that way.

The best part of the day, though, was seeing Patty for the first time in almost three weeks. We met after training outside the players’ gate at Euganeo and she greeted me with a huge hug and what I presumed was her first smile in several days.

“Hi,” she said. “Hide me?”

Sunday, November 4
Hellas Verona v Padova – Serie C1

I would love to say that my inspired decisions in squad selection and tactics brought us a vital road victory today at Bentegodi. But if I said that I’d be lying and I hate that, so I won’t.

We ground to a screeching halt this afternoon as Verona’s five-man midfield ran the risk of boring us to death. It was a defensive, tactical match even as much as I tried to find an opening to exploit.

Today’s result was disappointing for a number of reasons, which I’ll get into as they arise.

Our trip from Padua was without incident and we took the pitch to the largest crowd in Serie C1 for any single match this season – 8,875, which fired up my players as well as the home side. Verona is the top-drawing club in the league and if you can’t get up to play there, it’s hard to imagine why you’d want to play.

That said, I almost imagined I could smell burning rubber and burning brakes as Verona’s midfield immediately strangled the supply from our wing players. Their 3-5-2 stopped the 4-1-3-2 with a fair bit of ease but part of that was due, I thought, to our having a few tired legs in key positions.

The rebound I was hoping to see from Gentile didn’t happen and he was a non-factor for most of the match. I can’t blame him for that – the central midfield role in my tactic is pretty active and two matches in four days is a big ask.

But with the attention Verona was paying to Baú and Music, I needed a midfielder to step up. When that didn’t happen, we didn’t look much like scoring.

That is, until the 34 minute mark when we beat them over the top. Baú’s entry ball found Varricchio and he cut sharply to the middle to test keeper Rafael. Defender Lorenzo Sibiliano, left in Varricchio’s wake, reached out and when he did, all he grabbed was shirt. Referee Andrea Corletto was not amused.

He pointed to the spot and Muzzi gleefully grabbed the ball. He placed it on the spot, waited for the referee’s whistle and damned if he didn’t hit the worst penalty I’ve ever seen right into Rafael’s chest. The keeper was knocked over by the shot but Sibiliano bailed out his keeper by clearing the rebound into touch.

I stood on the touchline, ready to tear out my hair. I didn’t want to do anything that would show anger but really, I didn’t have much choice. I finally threw up my arms in disgust and we got on with the job.

We’ve now missed three of our last six penalties and it’s getting old. Halftime arrived and I tried to find something constructive to say to the squad, which sat in a sort of daze around the central table in the visitors’ changing room.

“Just relax and play like you can,” I finally said. “Getting a goal from open play, last I checked, counts the same as a goal from the penalty spot. They aren’t going to hurt you the way you’re defending today, so go and win this for yourselves.”

We created a couple of decent chances in the second half, but even a switch to 4-3-3 to try to counter their midfield dominance didn’t help. We had five shots on target, one more than Verona, but when Corletto blew for full time it was a richly deserved draw.

And it doesn’t appear that Muzzi will be taking penalties for awhile, as he left the game with a strained neck twenty minutes from time. It looks like he’ll miss at least a week, maybe two, and will surely miss both our return leg against Igea Virtus in the Cup and our home match against Pro Patria on the 11th.

Rafael was man of the match, presumably for stopping Muzzi’s penalty, but considering how poorly it was taken it wasn’t a surprise to me that it stayed out of the goal. Roberto was pretty upset with himself, realizing that his miss probably cost us two more points, but the other teams in Serie C1 did us additional damage today as well.

That was the other annoying thing. We’ve lost once in eleven matches but Sassuolo is still unbeaten and leads with 23 points. Then five clubs – ourselves, Cremonese, Novara, Venezia and Monza – are all on 22.

Venezia gained two points on us thanks to scoring four goals away for the second straight week. This time, though, they won, topping seventh-placed Foggia 4-3. We are officially third in the table on tie-breakers now, so the goalless draw we had today away from home actually hurt us in the table.

After all was said and done, I was a bit surprised to see our traveling support applauding us off the pitch. I’ll certainly take it, but frankly I don’t think we played anywhere near as well as we’re capable. At least it wasn’t a loss.

Hellas Verona 0-0 Padova


Emiliani had the first crack at me in the post-match news conference and it was all I could do to avoid smiling at the reporter who had suggested I change penalty takers earlier in the season. I wound up taking his advice for reasons unrelated to his column.

“Anyone else in mind for penalties?” he asked, and finally I managed a rueful smile.

“Can you take them?” I asked, and he snorted out a laugh in reply.

“It’s your job to find someone,” he reminded me, and I can guess what his next column will look like.

“I can’t deny that,” I said. “For now, though, we’re leaving a road venue with a point and that is what we have to build on. We have business to tend to in the Cup this mid-week and after that I will be looking for better from this squad when we are at home next weekend.

“Maybe even from the penalty spot,” Emiliani cracked, and this time my return gaze wasn’t so friendly. Yet, even as upsetting as the comment was, I can’t argue it because he’s right. And I hate when the media is right.

Monday, November 5
We’re preparing for the visit of Igea Virtus on Wednesday in the second leg of our Cup tie and the main thing I’ll have to deal with is overconfidence on the part of my players.

Honestly, a four-goal haul in the away leg is reason for some people to think the tie is over – in fact, just about everyone.

Even I have to admit it would take a minor miracle for us to be overhauled on our home pitch. Yet, my job is to prevent the kind of complacency that might lead to such a shock result.

Part of that will be to get the players who were so good in the first leg back onto the pitch for the second leg, while making sure they understand what made them successful the first time.

We were very good playing the ball down the flanks at Carlo D’Alcontres, and I know we’ll be looking to duplicate that success at home even as we prepare for what they’ll do to try to stop us.

So the chess match begins, even if our opponents are missing both bishops and a knight by comparison. I’ll have Rabito back in the starting XI because I can’t ask Gentile to give me three matches in eight days. His effort, brave though it was at Verona, wasn’t what was required and he needs to rest. So I’ll give him that opportunity with no hard feelings.

I also won’t have Muzzi, so Paponi will be restored up front along with Di Nardo for the second leg with Varricchio waiting in the wings after playing ninety minutes yesterday. The rest of the XI will be the same as it was for the first leg and the players who got their chance last week see it as just desserts for the job they did.

So far, there’s enough football to keep people happy. There are advantages to having a relatively small squad and this is one of them.

The injury list, for now, is manageable. We have enough games to keep most people in the XI on a more or less regular basis. Unless they are complete clots in training, they’re going to get out there sooner or later.

And the best of it is, the busy stretch is ending soon. After our match Wednesday and Sunday’s home match against Pro Patria, we have two weeks off before a showdown matchup at Novara on the 25th. I’d love to get Patty to Rome again, but that week also coincides with the end of Biennale and she’ll be far too busy to get away.

I’d love to take her away from McGuire for a week but that doesn’t seem like a likely possibility. I will, however, be able to be around her – and yes, to protect her if necessary – and that will help a lot.


I also have a real issue with Emiliani, whose latest column came out today.

He has claimed the high ground on our penalty situation and was critical of me, not for following his advice, but for choosing the wrong man. In so doing, he made it personal. I saw this coming, and foresight hasn’t made me any less angry. He wrote:

“As the Americans are fond of saying, ‘one out of two ain’t bad’. Removing Eder Baú from the penalty spot was a correct decision by manager Ridgway but one must question his choice of Roberto Muzzi to replace Baú in the all-important penalty area. The fluency and potency of Padova’s play has resulted in quite a few penalties being awarded and it simply won’t do to keep spurning those chances.

The issue with Ridgway to this point has not been his nationality, and neither has it been his occasionally maddening tendency to stray away from club matters to devote more time to the personal than he ought. It is an unwillingness to play to the true strengths of his squad and above all an unwillingness to learn how Italians play this game that will prove to be his Achilles heel.

‘Exceptionalism’ is the term some Americans use to describe how they see their place in the world. Given that he has had one-third of his season to get the penalty-taking right and has yet failed to do so, one wonders if this term will ever be used to describe his ability to manage a football club. Much less our football club.”

I love back-seat drivers. Or, not.

Tuesday, November 6
I had a bit of a hard time holding my temper today with media after today’s training session.

As we say in the States, Emiliani “got in my kitchen” with his column and I didn’t care for it.

The squad’s mood is decent. We’re disappointed we didn’t do better at Verona but the fact we were on the road was enough to stop our mood from sinking.

It’s an odd thing, team morale – we’re third in the table and we’ve only lost once, but we lost ground to other teams after Sunday and we feel we should have done more. As a result, despite being third we aren’t real happy about it.

In a way, that’s good – ambition is obviously key to any long-term progress we hope to make as a club – but at the same time, a road draw is not necessarily the end of the world.

I think it is a bit odd that some people need to be cheered up after we go away from home and come back with a point, but that was the mood at training today.

And, not surprisingly, my players have read the papers and see Emiliani as a second-guesser. I do too, at the moment, which was a reason for the reaction I gave today after the session was over.

I felt it was time to back my players, who have done just about everything I could have asked of them over the first one-third of the fixture list. We’re in the Cup, with a commanding advantage in our current tie, and performing at least to expectation in the league, all while staying under budget.

So to have Emiliani’s opinion so stridently put was upsetting to some of the players. It was my job to put that right and I tried to after the session this morning.

I was asked about the squad for tomorrow night and I replied that many of the same players who had performed so well would get return engagements in the return leg.

“And what about penalties?” Emiliani asked, and I zeroed in on him.

“Stefano, I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe you should tell me. And this time, don’t hide behind your column.”

“What does that mean?” he challenged.

“Figure it out,” I snapped. “You wrote I should change penalty takers. For reasons unrelated to your petulance, I did. You then questioned my selection. How much more pressure are you going to put on these players? What good are you going to do by questioning every move I make? You may sell more papers and you may get a few more people walking up to you on the street and telling you how right you are, but honestly, what good will it do?”

“I ask the questions here,” he said.

“Not after you misinterpret my answers,” I said. “My answer to you is that if we get a penalty, I’ll make the decision. And since you evidently don’t have anything constructive to say, I’ll expect you to abide by that decision. If you’ve got something to say, by all means, say it. But if you’re just going to take potshots at my players, let’s just say you’ll get a warm reception in my changing room.”

“Did you practice penalties today?”

“No.”

“May I ask why not?”

“Because we’re ahead 4-nil on aggregate,” I said. “If they score four times on our pitch and it winds up going to penalties, I’ll be perfectly happy to revisit my position, assuming I still have one. In the meantime, I do reserve the right to run my senior squad in the way I choose.”

Wednesday, November 7
Padova v Igea Virtus, Serie C Cup

It wasn’t the best of performances, but thanks to our strong road match last week, we are through to the second round of the Serie C Cup.

Again, we started quickly but suffered a noticeable dip in concentration and form in the second half with the tie firmly in our charge. As a result we wound up with a home draw and two away goals against us.

I found neither fact especially pleasing, but again the squad players did a good enough job to move the club along in the competition.

I was also disappointed by the size of the gathering at Euganeo for the second leg of the tie. Some clubs have “fan nights”, as I’ve mentioned before. We must have had “Friends and Family” night tonight because just 2,782 showed up to see the match. It’s not as though our visitors brought a huge gathering either – the length of the trip saw to that, as it did for us last week.

I wanted the mood kept light, especially with such a big lead.

“Don’t press tonight,” I urged the players as we prepared for warmups. “But don’t let up. You earned this lead with a hell of a match on their pitch last week. Don’t waste it. Remind them why you’re ahead in the tie and keep your boots on their necks.”

We then went out and for the most part, did what we were supposed to do. This time, our early chances wound up coming through the middle of the park for the most part, with Rabito barely missing on a free kick from 25 yards out on sixteen minutes.

Paponi’s power led to the first goal of the game just after the half-hour. His rising strike was parried by keeper De Masi’s acrobatic save to his right, but the best he could do was push the rebound right at Gentile, whose eyes were as big as saucers at the unexpected gift. He slotted home for his third goal of the tie to make it 1-0 to us on 31 minutes.

We kept up the pressure, and ten minutes later it was Paponi’s turn to shake loose. This time we did it the way we had scored all four away goals – with an inch-perfect cross. Rabito was the provider from the right, and Daniele’s header found the lower left corner of De Masi’s net to make the aggregate score 6-0 as we broke for halftime.

Even Emiliani couldn’t have much to say about that scoreline, and the players were looking pretty pleased with themselves after 135 minutes of hard offensive and defensive work. I wasn’t done with them, though, not by a long shot.

“Play to the finish,” I urged them, “and finish what you start. Let’s go for the clean sheet tonight and leave no doubt about who the better side is.”

And for the first twenty minutes of the half, we did just that. Our defensive play was immaculate, we were inviting Igea Virtus onto us and hitting them with quick, accurate passing in the counter-attack, and I couldn’t have been more pleased with how we were playing.

Then, in a space of five minutes, everything changed. My mood changed along with it.

Guglielmi made the first mistake in central defense, overplaying Marco Fina to the wrong foot. Antonio Montella’s entry ball found Fina with a step at the top of our penalty area, and it wasn’t hard for him to beat Cano to his right-hand post on 74 minutes to get them onto the scoreboard.

They showed their delight at scoring on us, and I was rueful about a mistake made by a player who can ill afford to make them if he wants playing time. But four minutes later, Cano was fishing the ball out of his goal again as they beat us straight up Route One.

A long ball from the back hit between Anaclerio and Donadoni, and before either of them could react Montella had latched onto it. He worked slightly to his right to clear himself of the suddenly desperate Donadoni and launched a fine strike into the top left corner of Cano’s goal to give them two away goals in five minutes.

That one, frankly, upset me. It was schoolboy defending and I was as upset about the communication issue as much as anything else.

“What do we practice for?” I shouted angrily as the happy Igea Virtus squad retreated back up the pitch for the kickoff. “Talk to each other!”

The five-minute lapse in concentration was soon rectified, though, and we made it through the rest of the match without any further damage.

I was left to rue a 2-2 draw made more palatable by the fact that we had gone through with a comparatively gaudy aggregate score, but still, we hadn’t beaten a Serie C2 side on our own pitch. That didn’t make me too happy.

I would have smiled at the prize money we won had the club not needed it. Winning in the first round of the Serie C Cup earned us the staggering sum of €3,000, which I strongly suspect the club will spend all in one place.

At least we’re in the hunt for more in the second round. Our opponents will be Società Polisportiva Ars et Labor, known as SPAL, which is in second place in Serie C2B. Perhaps their most famous alum is Fabio Capello, who has won major championships at Roma, Milan, Juventus and Real Madrid.

Thankfully, he’s not SPAL’s manager at the moment so I feel reasonably confident we can give them a good two games.

After the match I had plenty of time to praise Gentile’s play, especially since he scored half our goals in the aggregate victory.

“That is the kind of form so important to the central midfielder in my tactic,” I explained. “Andrea has done a tremendous job over the last week and I’m very happy for him.”

Across the way, Emiliani looked on with a blank expression. I chose not to pursue the issue with him and figured I didn’t need any more trouble. I made my point with him yesterday and I’m fine with how it was done.

Padova 2-2 Igea Virtus

Thursday, November 8
With just a few days remaining on our current stretch of games, we’re preparing for Pro Patria’s visit on Sunday that will complete the cycle.

They’re struggling a bit and for them it’s a question of deciding whether their glass is half-full or half-empty.

On the positive side, they have earned points in over half their matches. On the negative side, they’ve won just two of eleven starts. I suppose the negative is more accurate, since they’re 14th in the table.

We will probably have dropped a spot or two by the time we play on Sunday as well, since Cremonese and Venezia are in action on Saturday. Cremonese plays away to Citadella, which is currently dropping like a stone after a strong start, and Venezia has a key matchup at home to Monza, one of the sides in the cluster of teams at the top of the table.

My money would be on our rivals in that one, considering their recent offensive form. If I were allowed to wager, that is. And in Italy, you have to be very careful about how you say things like that, even in jest.

I did my video work on the visitors earlier in the week so the video session with the senior squad was both comparatively organized and short. Again, we’ll be rotating players into and out of the XI for this match. Yet with two weeks off coming up I made it quite clear today that if the first team wasn’t up to the task on Sunday, I had options shown to me by the squad players against Igea Virtus.

In short, I’m looking for better, especially on our home pitch. It doesn’t look like we’ll have much room for error this season so when we’re at home we have to make an impact.


Meanwhile, Patty has been holding her own this week in Venice, hoping to keep her sanity in the face of Peter – and now, Kate – showing up nightly at functions.

Tonight she had a dinner to attend and it went pretty well. Yet as she turned to leave, she nearly ran over Kate, who had decided it was her turn to make an introduction.

Patty’s heart went straight to her throat.

“Patty?” Kate asked, with a nice smile.

“You must be Kate,” she answered, and my former girlfriend extended her hand to my present girlfriend in response.

“I’m happy to meet you,” Kate said, and inwardly Patty wondered if Kate could have any idea what had happened in the recent past.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” Patty answered.

“Look, I’m sure you’re uncomfortable and I apologize for that,” Kate said. “I know Peter had talked with you the other night and you were pretty upset.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to see an old acquaintance,” Patty replied as diplomatically as she could.

“I understand,” Kate answered. “It can be very hard. I understand you’re seeing Rob Ridgway?”

“If you must know, yes, I’m seeing Rob,” she said. “I know you were an item with him some years back.”

“Almost married,” Kate replied, with a smile. “It didn’t work out but that doesn’t mean I stopped caring for him. He had a hard time after we broke up.”

“Like you didn’t,” Patty thought to herself, remembering Kate’s note I had shown her early in our relationship.

“Yes, but what brings you here in your condition? I understand congratulations are in order -- your husband told me that you’re expecting another baby.”

“This was important enough for us to make the trip together,” she explained. “Our client wanted us both present to handle his appearances and it’s certainly worth that to our business. How do you like the night life here?”

It all seemed so odd to Patty and finally she said so. “I like it fine,” she said. “Please pardon my changing the subject, but can you please tell me why you’re here making nice to me when I once had a relationship with your husband?”

“Because you are important to Peter,” she said. “And you’re also important to Rob, I expect, and since I wrote to him awhile back I am curious to know how he’s doing.”

Patty’s head started to feel light, her discomfort growing by the second. “Rob’s fine,” she said, “though I don’t see as much of him as I’d like during the busy times of the season.”

“That’s football for you,” Kate smiled, before finally excusing herself. “Patty, it was lovely meeting you.”

“Thank you, Kate,” my girlfriend answered, feeling like she had just been released from the rack. “Please pardon me for the awkwardness – it’s just that Peter…”

“Don’t worry,” Kate finished. “Sometimes he’s pretty abrasive and I think you probably know that as well as I do. He doesn’t mean anything by what he says or does sometimes. He’s a busy man and sometimes he loses sight of the fact that other people are important too, and they deserve respect.”

“Then how come he’s in his line of work?” Patty blurted, and Kate gave her a surprised expression.

“He’s good at what he does,” she said, with the smile still on her face. “And I know you probably don’t think much of him. Just please know that he’s not out to hurt anyone.”

With that, she left, and Patty looked after her with an expression of amazement.

“Like hell he’s not,” she said softly, as Kate turned a corner and vanished out of sight.

Friday, November 9
I called both Baú and Muzzi into my office before training this morning to try out a theory which might upset both players but which I hope to use to end our troubles from the penalty spot.

“Look, fellows, I know you’ve both wanted to take the penalties we get and you’ve both had successes and failures,” I said. “But we are in a position in the league where we can’t afford any more guesswork. So here’s what I’m going to do. Eder, I’m putting you back into the penalty role with the understanding that you need to score to stay there. Roberto, the same goes for you. I want to see results – hell, I have to see results – and this is about the only way I can think of to get them that I haven’t already tried.”

Neither player looked happy, but then I made my point.

“We’ve tried it your way all season,” I explained. “And our statistics from the penalty spot aren’t very good. Now we’re going to try it my way and see what happens.”


I also had a “clear-the-air” meeting with Emiliani today. My point was made clear to him, but he was upset that I made it in front of other reporters, which served to embarrass him.

In a way, that was fine with me, since his column certainly embarrassed me. I didn’t start it. So we’ve come to an understanding.

“It’s not going to affect how I treat you,” I told him. “But I will tell you this: if you go after me in print, I’ll reserve the right to respond. Obviously I am not above criticism in this job but I do expect it will be fair criticism or I’ll take my own steps.”

“I get to express my opinion and you know that,” he said.

“Of course you do,” I said. “But surely you aren’t naïve enough to believe that I wouldn’t defend myself if I have to?”

“Of course not,” he said. “You need to understand that my readers expect pointed commentary and I will give it to them regardless of whether you like how it makes you look.”

“I understand that as well,” I said. “But in the end, it would be easier if you and I get along. I won’t embarrass you if you don’t embarrass me first.”

Saturday, November 10
We will head into tomorrow’s match fifth in the table after two of our rivals scored successes today.

Cremonese won 1-nil at Citadella and Venezia defeated Monza by the same score at Pierluigi Penzo. They both leapfrogged us so there will be added pressure on us to defeat Pro Patria, as we’re expected to do, tomorrow.

Our brief training session today unveiled a focused Eder Baú. He still isn’t happy, but his frame of mind appears to be better than it was earlier in the week. It’s not optimal, but I’ll take it. I need his skills out there.

I will say this, though: even though Eder is in a bad way, he does his level best not to let it affect his play. The phrase “model professional” was made for him and he has done everything I’ve asked regardless of his mind set at the time I do the asking.

He plays hard, has wonderful technique, works to get his teammates involved in the play, and when the time is right, he seems to have a knack for putting the round thing in the goal. Not always from the penalty spot, but if that can be fixed I’ll have quite a useful player indeed.


Also, the Biennale will end next week. This is a great relief to Patty, who is about ready to be done with the festival and all it entails.

Of course, this includes Peter and Kate, who had another meeting with Patty this evening amid another try to ‘make nice’. She’s about up to her eyeballs with it and can’t wait for them to leave.

She called me tonight and expressed her emotions. Thankfully, she was in a bit better state tonight and everything didn’t seem to come out in one long word.

“I’m so tired, Rob,” she said. “I don’t mean to complain but I really could sleep for a month when all this is done. I just don’t see any reason for all this contact with them and even though I’ve hinted at them staying away from me I don’t have the nerve to say it.”

“You could, but if you aren’t comfortable, let me do it for you,” I said. “After tomorrow’s game we’ve got time off and the squad is going to take a break. If you want help I will come to Venice and give it to you.”

“Are you sure you want to?” she asked. “After all, there’s press there just about every night and if you were seen…”

“…it would be defending my girlfriend and I have no problem with that,” I said. “Let me help you. Patty, you’ve fought them alone since they got here and that just isn’t fair to you. I should be with you during all this and believe me, just say the word and I’ll be there.”

Sunday, November 11
Padova v Pro Patria, Serie C1A

Note to self: to ensure future success, anger Eder Baú.

It took my winger just 26 minutes to complete a first-half hat trick this afternoon as we easily dispatched Pro Patria to reclaim third place in the table.

In so doing, however, the Pro Patria players and supporters gained no respect for referee Marco Piotto, who awarded two more penalties to us today. Thankfully, Baú dispatched both in clinical fashion, but a rather amazing statistic is coming out now and it may cause trouble for us later on this season.

In our first twelve league matches, we have been awarded seven penalties, in addition to several more in the Serie C Cup. Our total of awarded penalties leads the league by three, and when people start their tongues wagging, I’m concerned they may ask about referee bias.

Some people would do that anyway, of course – this is Italy, after all – but both penalties today were of the stonewall variety, even if a frustrated Pro Patria side didn’t agree with Piotto’s conclusions.

We had a decent crowd – 4,315 today – and a nice late fall day on which to watch the match. They saw the home team come out and take the game by the scruff of the neck, which really pleased me. Before the game I challenged the players to make it a show, and they did.

We came out flying. Varricchio and Paponi both came close in the first five minutes, and then we used some good hard work to get on the scoreboard just eight minutes into the match.

This time it was Music – who was excellent again today – doing the hard work on the left, jinking past a defender deep in the Pro Patria half and getting to the byline for the deep cross he knows I prefer. He lofted a useful ball into the six-yard box and I could see Varricchio steaming in for his trademark piledriver header.

But he never got there. Central defender Júnior stuck out his hip and caught him just before he jumped for the ball. I looked at referee Piotto, the crowd roared expectantly, and he gave the penalty.

Immediately, he faced a horde of angry visiting players, not least of which was Júnior. To his credit, the official simply turned his back to the crowd of players and pointed to the spot, where Baú was already waiting with the ball.

The crowd joined the manager in a collective holding of breath as Eder put the ball on the spot. He then relieved all the pressure by dispatching a clinical spot kick into the lower left corner of Luca Anania’s goal to put us one to the good just eight minutes into the match.

He gave me a look of relief mixed with triumph and we then proceeded to play quite a fine stretch of ball control. We didn’t have a scoring chance until the 28th minute, when the unfortunate Júnior completed a rather torrid first half of activity by holding Varricchio back by his shirt in the penalty area to stop him reaching an entry ball from Baú.

Again, Piotto pointed to the spot and again, Pro Patria’s players went nuts. And again, Baú carefully placed the ball on the spot before smashing another clinical penalty past Anania.

Sometimes things in this game do indeed go in cycles, and I was left to reflect on this happy fact as Baú celebrated his second successful conversion of the first half. The crowd was up and singing, the Pro Patria players were upset and out of their game, and most importantly we were two to the good.

They were rattled, and it showed through just eight minutes later when Crovari found Baú on a searching ball to the right touchline. About twenty-five yards from the byline, Eder lofted a ball into the six-yard box looking for Varricchio, who had stormed past Júnior and appeared ready to pounce.

This time, though, it was different. Anania stood on his line, before realizing Varricchio would be first to the ball. Too late, he moved out to meet the onrushing striker, and as he did, they both misjudged the flight of the ball. Flailing at it with an outstretched arm, the ball flew over both Varricchio’s noggin and the keeper’s outstretched fingertips. It flew into the top right corner for a third goal that was both a complete fluke and a marvelous stroke of luck for Baú.

He stormed off to the corner flag to celebrate and my only misgiving was that there weren’t more people in the stadium to celebrate along with him. Baú’s hat trick was completed, Pro Patria was down for the count, and there was still eleven minutes until halftime.

We piled forward in search of a fourth, smelling blood. It didn’t come, but it hardly mattered. We ran off to the changing room at halftime in high spirits and I certainly did nothing to diffuse the good mood.

The second half was a formality, as the visitors simply tried to stop the bleeding the rest of the way. They had one shot on target in the first half and none at all in the second, as we cruised to an easy victory. I wouldn’t have minded seeing a fourth goal but I was well satisfied with the three we had.

As a result, we had quite a comfortable second half, Baú walked off the pitch with the match ball tucked under his arm to celebrate his hat trick, and we had gained back the two places in the table we lost yesterday. All in all, a very fine day indeed.

“That’s what I want to see!” I exclaimed, as the players gathered around for the post-match team talk. “Get on them early, score often, and then watch them beat their heads against our defense. Well done to everyone but especially to Eder Baú!”

Everyone – even Muzzi, who knew a good performance when he saw one – applauded the loan winger, who got a smile on his face for the first time all week. And well he should have.


The second biggest cheer I got came when I gave the squad the next week off. We don’t play again until Novara two weeks from today and with the stretch we’ve just had the players can use a break.

So they scattered, heading to plunge pools and showers, while I went to face the media. This time, Emiliani had nothing to say to me about the performance.

“Who decided on the penalty taker?” he asked.

“I did. Who did you think would decide?” I replied.

“Obviously, a correct decision,” he answered.


The logjam continues at the top of the league, though. Sassuolo kept its unbeaten streak intact, dismissing ten-man Foligno 2-0 at home to move to 26 points. We’re third, still with the one loss to go with seven wins and four draws.

We didn’t overhaul Venezia in the tie-breaker, though, so they are still second also on 25 points. Cremonese is also on 25 points, but Novara slipped badly, drawing 1-1 at tail-end Lecco in what had to be a hugely disappointing result for their flying circus.

Novara fell two points behind us on 23, and Monza showed what will happen to clubs in the top six who lose, falling all the way to sixth place on 22 points.

We are past the one-third mark of the season and as I gunned my car off to Venice, I smiled at what we’ve accomplished. We deserve a break and we’re right in the thick of the league race. It’s a good time to pause and celebrate.
Padova 3-0 Pro Patria

Monday, November 12
I’ve never been much for formalwear and I’ve never been much for art, especially of the modern variety.

I have, however, been one for Patty, and it was in that context I was able to put aside my misgivings this evening.

In the last week of Biennale, I finally got a chance to see what my girlfriend does for a living, and I finally got a chance to come face-to-face with the individual who is trying so hard to humiliate both of us.

I spent my afternoon holed up in Patty’s apartment while she worked, before putting on my tuxedo late in the afternoon. Finally, I headed off to one of the local display galleries where the evening’s event was being held.

Patty and I arrived at about the same time – just before dinnertime, which was covered by heavy hors d’oeuvres and wine.

There were glitterati everywhere and I noted, uncomfortably, that my picture was being taken as I walked into the gallery. I wondered why they would want one, figured they had erroneously concluded I actually was somebody, and walked on.

“I can still see my girlfriend,” I reminded myself as I walked into the room. From the opposite corner of the main hall, she saw me and advanced, resplendent in a tasteful evening dress that flattered her red hair perfectly.

“About time you made it here,” she smiled, slipping into my arms for a brief and tasteful reunion. “Tonight I’ll show you how the other half lives!”

I accepted a glass of wine from a waiter and toasted her beauty.

“I think I could use a little high society,” I smiled. “Especially when it looks like you do.”


The evening itself wasn’t that bad. I strolled around the gallery, pretended like I knew what I was looking at, and from a distance watched Patty move smoothly around the room.

I appreciated her grace and style, especially in a time when Americans can be regarded with disdain overseas. It didn’t seem to bother her and the people she was with didn’t seem to mind either.

Finally, she caught up to me while I looked at something that appeared to be a bunch of black squiggles on a large white canvas. Undoubtedly it had a hidden meaning inherently obvious to people who can see such things.

She took my arm softly while I tried to give the impression I knew what I was looking at. Her arrival surprised me.

I wheeled, startled, and her ready smile seemed to burn its way into me.

“You looked lost in thought so I figured I’d change the subject,” she teased, and I looked down at her happily.

“I sort of needed rescuing,” I admitted. She moved close and I enjoyed her warmth as we looked at artwork.

Together we repeated the circuit and we simply enjoyed each other’s company. After the busy schedule of the last few weeks that was quite an enjoyable diversion.

And as we talked, we could both feel the pressure falling off us. Couples are supposed to be together for a reason and we remembered first-hand what it was.

We cut quite a nice figure, actually, and this pleased both of us.

“Aren’t we supposed to be slow dancing right now?” she smiled, and I laughed out loud.

“You got me into a tuxedo,” I said. “Don’t push your luck.”

“You don’t want to dance with me?” she pouted, turning down her lower lip just so.

“You don’t want a broken foot,” I protested, but she hugged me playfully in response.

The evening was about to end. We turned the corner for the front of the hall. And then I saw them.

I made eye contact with Kate first, and five years of pain flooded back into my mind.

Patty saw my moment of consternation, and as I controlled myself, she squeezed my arm tightly.

“I’m here for you,” she whispered, and I had never appreciated her presence more.

My eyes met Kate’s and it felt like a tidal wave of unspoken feeling as our gazes locked for the first time in five years.

I shook my head slightly to rid myself of a lightheaded sensation and grabbed onto Patty’s arm.

“I love you,” I whispered in reply, and she looked at me with a wide-eyed expression.

“You have no idea what that means to me, Rob,” she replied, in an equal whisper. “I love you too.”

With that, they approached and I met my tormentor face-to-face for the first time.

“So you made it after all,” McGuire said, holding Kate as I was holding Patty. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away?”

I looked down at him disdainfully.

“You don’t tell me anything,” I scowled, managing to control my anger. “You wrote me from out of the blue to insult my integrity, you came to Italy to pick this fight, and you walked over here just now. Don’t start another fight, McGuire, or I might just finish it.”

I turned away, taking Patty gently by the arm. Then I realized I wasn’t done, and wheeled back to where McGuire’s angry gaze shot daggers at my back.

“Oh, and stay away from Patty,” I warned. “You’re bothering her and if you keep doing that you’ve got trouble you don’t want.”

“I did warn you, Ridgway,” he repeated. “People who cross me soon learn not to do it again.”

His arrogance was as annoying as it was out of place in such a high-society setting. It was all I could do not to double my fists in response.

“You warned me,” I sneered, mocking his tone. “You don’t scare me, little man. Get out of my face and stay out of our lives.”

All this time I had managed not to look at Kate, which was probably for the best. Her eyes caught Patty’s and the look Kate received in exchange said what needed to be said: “Tell your husband to back off.”

Kate got the message. “Honey, this isn’t the time or place,” she said. “Let’s don’t make a bigger scene than we already have, all right?”

He glowered at me, and turned on his heel to leave.

“Write when you find work,” I said to his retreating back. I could see the back of his neck turn bright red and saw Kate’s grasp on his arm tighten.

I shook my head as they walked away. “He really doesn’t have a clue,” I said. “In a way, I feel sorry for him.”

Patty squeezed my arm again. “Don’t,” she said. “After how he lied to me, how he lied to Kate and for what he wants to do to your reputation, please don’t.”

Tuesday, November 13
I wish with all my heart that I hadn’t gone to this evening’s event. After five years of emotional reconstruction, I’m again in turmoil, and it all happened tonight.

Patty and I spent a lovely day together before leaving for the evening’s exhibit, across the city from last night’s.

It was all the same as before – my freshly-cleaned formalwear was even the same – and the night moved on almost exactly as last night had.

Yet this time, when we made contact this evening, he was nowhere to be found. Kate walked alone up and down the rows, and it seemed odd to me that this would be the case. From time to time she consulted with her client and watching her work seemed to be just like watching the old days go by.

We enjoyed not having as much pressure on us and as Patty and I moved smoothly through the gallery, I thought I might actually be able to get used to this sort of life once the football gods have chewed me up and spit me out.

The food was excellent, the wine was flowing freely and before long, Patty was whispering in my ear.

“Rob, I have to go back to the office for a bit,” she said. “I’ve left some material there that I need. I’ll be gone for about twenty minutes, okay?”

I nodded, she kissed me goodbye, and I was left alone. I turned, and Kate had somehow managed to occupy Patty’s place.

My eyes grew wide with surprise, and she smiled up at me.

“Surprise,” she said, and I looked down at her as I had so many times before.

I took a deep breath. “Hello, Kate,” I said, my voice feeling like it would squeak.

“Hello, Rob,” she replied, in the same honeyed tone that had driven me to distraction years ago. “It’s good to see you under less trying circumstances.”

“This is odd. Where’s your husband?” I asked, more curtly than I cared to at the outset.

“In the hotel, packing,” she said. “He’s going home tomorrow.”

“And you’re not?”

She looked up at me. “No, Rob, I’m not,” she said. “I still have work to do here. The kids are with their nanny in Reading and it’s time for him to leave.”

I gave her a puzzled expression. “If the kids are looked after…”

She gave me a sad expression. “Rob, please,” she said. “I need to ask you a question.”

I nodded, and little alarm bells started going off in my head.

“In your honest opinion, please tell me…did he really think I wouldn’t find out?”

# # # I saw Kate bravely fighting back tears as she spoke. She was devastated.

“Kate, I have no idea what to tell you,” I began, but she cut me off.

“The truth would be a great start,” she said bitterly. “You know I’m not cross with you, but please, tell me what you know!”

Gently, I took Kate by the arm and led her to a bench in a far corner of the gallery.

“Patty told me she had a relationship with Peter when he was married to you and that she didn’t know he was married,” I said.

“Patty never thought to ask?”

I frowned. “Kate, that’s not a fair question. The first question I ask people I date isn’t generally ‘are you married’? I tend to assume they aren’t.”

“One would think she would have done a little research,” Kate said, and I looked at her with a bit of sympathy.

“One would also think she’d have preferred an honorable partner,” I said, defending Patty’s honor. “Peter was awful, both to Patty and to me, and in writing no less. I think that should tell you something about who is to blame for this.”

“Oh, I’m not defending him,” she snapped, with the fury of a woman scorned. “I just wish she had done a little homework.”

“Which she was under no obligation to do,” I said, continuing to defend my new sweetheart from the anger of my former one.

Finally, Kate’s expression changed.

“Rob, I don’t mean to attack anyone,” she finally said. “I know you can understand my pain and frustration. In fact, you’re probably the only man who truly does. Lord knows Peter doesn’t know and obviously, he doesn’t care.”

“You want your pound of flesh from him and I don’t blame you for that,” I said. “You could probably even choose which pound you take. Hell, Kate, I think Patty would help you take it, and most people wouldn’t blame you for that either.”

She looked up at me, her misery now showing. “Rob, I’m four months pregnant with two kids waiting at home, and I don’t know if I want to keep my husband. What do I do?”

Now I really didn’t know what to tell her.

But over the next minutes, she let it all out – her frustration with Peter; the thoughts she had had when she read his letter to me after seeing it laying on his desk at work; and finally, why she re-contacted me through her own letter.

“I had my doubts when I read his letter,” she said. “I could feel that something was up. There was no reason for him to talk Patty down unless he was trying to make you believe she was lying about something.”

“It just seemed strange,” I said. “Patty came to my office in Padua one afternoon and she struck me as a sweet, open, honest woman. I fell for her because she was honest and cared for me. That’s all there is to it.”

“I also wondered why you didn’t tell me what you knew after Patty told you about her relationship with Peter,” she said miserably.

Now it was my turn to show some frustration.

“That was a very hard decision,” I said. “What Peter did to you was wrong, but what he threatened to do to Patty was just as wrong. If I had told you, you’d be in exactly the same spot you’re in right now, and he may have tried something really stupid to hurt Patty. I couldn’t let that happen. Kate, I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t let that happen.”

“I just can’t believe what became of us,” she finally said, changing the subject with a heavy sigh. “I mean you and me, not Peter. You cared more for me than anyone I’ve ever known and I turned you down. I have kids I’d move heaven and earth for, and another on the way, but I just don’t know what to do!”

I reached for her hand and she freely gave it. I touched her for the first time in five years and she looked at me like she was drowning. Finally, she threw herself into my arms.

“I’d take you back in a second, Rob,” she said, clinging to me. “And this time I wouldn’t be so bloody stupid.”

She just felt perfect, every bit as soft and sweet and wonderful as when we were together. I had dreamed of exactly this moment on many a lonely evening, sometimes out of love for her and sometimes out of vindictiveness. Truly penitent, Kate was back in my arms, ready to come home. Yet it wasn’t fair, and I knew it.

I looked down at her and nearly didn’t recognize my own voice as I answered her. “Kate, as dearly as I love you, I just can’t,” I said. “You’re married, and I’m taken. But it’s like you said – I will always love you too.”

At that moment, Patty returned to the room. And now I’m distraught.

Wednesday, November 14
I’m back in Padua tonight, holed up in my apartment, wondering if I can possibly do anything right.

Patty doesn’t want to see me any more after finding Kate in my arms at the gallery last night.

Her words were cutting. “I thought you’d be better than Peter,” she said, when I tried to explain on my way out the door. “I guess I was wrong!”

She also told me through her tears that she will be going home to America after the Biennale ends on Sunday.

There was just nothing I could say. I did try to contact her today but she wouldn’t return my calls. I made four of them before finally giving up and closing the curtains in my apartment for an evening to myself.

I’m devastated. I was trying to do the right thing and all I did was mess up my life – again.

I was telling Kate I couldn’t take her back – but that cut no soap with Patty. She is understandably upset at the thought of someone she cared for until yesterday in the arms of another woman.

Here’s the oddest and saddest thing of all; if I wanted to, I could say the word and be a happy man.

Kate is ready to leave Peter McGuire and I have no doubt she meant what she said. I could resign my job tomorrow, go back to England, push him out of the picture as he was scared I might do, and have a very nice life as Kate’s husband.

The miracle every jilted lover craves would have come to pass – I’d have my dream life restored and I could simply forget about Patty.

She would slide into memory, a happy dalliance on the way to reclaiming the love of my life. Yet it’s not like that. I know it, and that’s what makes this so hard to accept.

Looking at Patty, and seeing how distraught she was at that moment, I knew turning down Kate was the right decision. I do love Patty and she does – or at least she did – love me. It is desperately sad.

I did my best to keep busy this afternoon but with no game this weekend the hours crawled by.

I looked at the wet bar in the corner of my apartment and resolved that I wasn’t going to go there – at least not tonight. It would only have led to trouble.

The only thing left for me to do is to sleep. And when that won’t come, I’m in real trouble.

Thursday, November 15
To make matters worse, Tuesday night’s incident is now in the papers here in Padua.

I was spotted at the Biennale event, in Venice, paparazzi found out, and when Patty stormed out of the gallery pursued by her manager boyfriend, it made news. Today, it became public and the pain I am feeling seems to be getting worse by the moment.

The thing I’m struggling with the most is reconciling her earlier words with her actions of the other night. She had insisted that she would be there for me when the trouble arrived – trouble we both knew would come. Sure enough, it did, and when it did Patty evaporated. Again, I appear to have put my trust in a woman who let me down.

I’m grieving. If that sounds harsh, fine. She told me what she felt – only she didn’t seem to feel it when it mattered the most. I know she certainly has the right to change her mind, but such a sudden reversal – without a fair chance to explain what happened – hurts more than I can describe.

I called home today and had a long talk with my family, who has unfortunately had to help me through this on a prior occasion. I started to cheer up a bit thanks to a touch of home. I just needed to hear some friendly voices while I sort things out, and thankfully they understood my need.

Then, I got an unexpected boost to my spirits. Masolini called, from his holiday at home. My deputy figured I could use a little morale boost from this side of the Atlantic as well.

“I read the paper, my friend,” he said, and I sighed heavily. “We’ll get you through this. If you like, the coaches can take you out and help you forget about things for a little while.”

I thought it through and realized I was probably making yet another wrong decision. I also knew that if I didn’t get out and among people I was asking for trouble.

“I think that would be fine,” I finally said.

Friday, November 16
Yesterday’s entry was rather short because my coaching staff took me out on the town and when they got me back home, they nearly had to pour me into my apartment.

Today’s entry is rather short because my head hurts. Quite a lot.

From what I remember, I had a good time. At least I didn’t wake up next to a complete stranger this morning. That was a good thing. I woke up alone.

I didn’t even try to contact Patty today. First off I don’t think she would have talked to me and second, even if she had I was in no shape to argue for most of the day. That was a bit unfortunate but finding a place to lie down was more important for me for most of today.

I appreciated Masolini’s gesture of yesterday even as I didn’t care for how it made me feel this morning. While I like time to myself, being alone has never been a priority of mine and my coaches made sure I wasn’t alone when I was at my very lowest.

I’ve turned down Kate, and Patty wants nothing to do with me. It can’t get any worse than that, but it’s probably for the best. I need to focus fully on these players, and on my job, and it’s best that I not be distracted. Even as much as it hurts.

Hell, who am I kidding?


Saturday, November 17
I’m miserable, but tonight I have company. Italy is in mourning tonight – there has been a death in the family.

Not of an important person, mind you, but rather their beloved Azzurri. In a shock qualifying result this evening, Italy lost 2-1 to Scotland at Glasgow’s Hampden Park – meaning Scotland is into Euro 2008 and Italy is out.

All the way out.

I watched the game on television, my head now cleared from Thursday night and hopefully starting to refocus on the events of the coming week including the showdown with Novara. I was looking for anything to shift my mind from the events of this week, but I hadn’t anticipated that this result would do it.

Scotland’s story in this competition has been a fairy tale from the start – Walter Smith, formerly and now once again of Rangers, started a renaissance with the national side that Alex McLeish has now finished.

Scotland was playing its last group match, with Italy still to face the Faroe Islands at home trailing by four points. A draw for the Scots would be enough to clinch a place in Austria and Switzerland, while Italy needed to do the business before an impassioned Tartan Army.

The media expectation here was that the world champions would indeed prevail. Just fourteen minutes into the match the visitors started to live up to advance billing. Manchester United’s Darren Fletcher pulled back Gennaro Gattuso in the penalty area and Juve’s Alessandro del Pieri converted from the spot.

Italy had the lead it craved. Then, just sixty seconds later, disaster struck Italy and the Lion Rampant was…well, it was rampant.

On a backpass from Mauro Camoranesi to keeper Gianluigi Buffon, Everton’s James McFadden stole the ball. He sailed in and beat Buffon to tie the score, sending Hampden Park into raptures.

The first half then took on a more hectic pace as Italy looked for the goal it now desperately needed. In the second half, though, the Scots struck again.

With the Italians piling forward, the Scots countered brilliantly. Nine minutes after the restart, Lee McCulloch of Rangers slammed a shot that Buffon parried onto the feet of Birmingham’s Garry O’Connor.

When O’Connor converted the simple finish, Hampden’s joy was of a different kind. Knowing they needed only a draw to advance, the Scots were able to play a confident defensive game while Italy flailed away at their defensive shell looking for a weakness.

It became increasingly obvious as the Italians chased the game that such a weakness was nowhere to be found. Craig Gordon was equal to the tasks he faced in Scotland’s goal and when the whistle blew for full time, a frenzy erupted in Glasgow such as hasn’t been seen in many a year.

The Azzurri were beaten and as the Italian players reacted to their defeat, I leaned back in my chair knowing full well that Biancoscudati, and their luckless manager, would be quite far down the sports pages for a few days.

That bothers me not at all. I haven’t really slept since Wednesday and if the cameras caught me now, the picture they’d get would not be pretty.