(The tape recorder clicks on. Someone has pinned a printout of a 5-1 scoreline to the noticeboard behind me, unsigned, in what I can only assume is a members-of-staff attempt at dark humour. My tea has gone cold. I haven’t noticed.)
Act I: The Collapse in Amsterdam
Wednesday 4th March, Champions League Round of 16, first leg, away to Ajax. I’d love to tell you this was unlucky. It wasn’t. It was a genuine, top-to-bottom worrying performance, and the numbers back that up before I even get to the scoreline.
We had six shots all night. One on target. 0.83 xG to their 1.89. Zero corners. Marc Pubill picked up a needless yellow card in the 4th minute, which set the tone nicely. And then Matias Godts spent the evening doing whatever he wanted:
- Godts opened the scoring in the 11th minute, teed up by Oscar Gloukh.
- Kasper Dolberg made it two on 70 minutes, assisted by — you guessed it — Godts.
- Godts came back for his second, and Ajax’s third, in the 79th, this time squared in by Kian Taylor.
Final score: Ajax 3, Fiorentina 0. The post-match note from my own staff read, with almost admirable restraint: “We can’t be too disappointed with the result. We didn’t play well at all and the scoreline reflects that.” We now need a three-goal swing at the Franchi to stay in this competition, which in practical terms means the Champions League run — and, more to the point, the money that comes with a Champions League run — is as good as over. I’ve started mentally spending it elsewhere already, which is probably premature grief, but here we are.
Act II: Sassuolo, or, the Elite Art of Making Domination Look Terrifying
Three days later, away to Sassuolo, and I would like the record to show that this was, statistically, one of the most one-sided football matches I have ever been involved in. 70% possession. Twenty shots to their seven. An xG total of 3.09 to 0.64. By any sane measure, this should have been a rout.
Instead, Andrea Pinamonti put Sassuolo ahead in the 13th minute off a Domenico Berardi assist, and I spent the next eleven minutes wondering whether the football gods had simply decided this was the week. Simone Pafundi equalised on 24 minutes, set up by Nicolò Fagioli. And then nothing — nothing — happened until the 90th minute, when Fagioli returned the favour and scored the winner off a Pafundi assist, at which point I finally allowed myself to breathe.
Sassuolo 1, Fiorentina 2. A dominant performance that somehow required the full ninety minutes and a converted xG of roughly 65% to actually win. Pafundi picked up an 8.6 for his goal and assist, Fagioli an 8.2 for the same, and we picked up three bookings along the way — Koné, Hincapié and Mandragora all went in the book, alongside three of theirs. My own analysts called it “fantastic” and I believe them, statistically. Emotionally, it felt like open-heart surgery performed with a spoon.
Act III: The Table Doesn’t Know We’re Miserable
Here is the part that makes no sense, and I mean that as a compliment to nobody. Despite getting taken apart in Amsterdam and nearly making a meal of Sassuolo, we sit third in Serie A — 55 points from 27 games, having leapfrogged both Bologna and Milan this week purely because they slipped up elsewhere. We’re four points off Napoli in second, eleven behind Inter at the top, and the mood inside the building does not remotely reflect a club sitting third. Football, it turns out, does not require you to feel good about your position in order to hold it.
Act IV: Discontent in the Ranks, and Iain Being Iain
The mood, for what it’s worth, has soured. Two of the squad have apparently decided my team talks have been too harsh lately, which — given the week we’ve just had — feels less like a fair criticism and more like a review of the weather from inside the storm. I’m not naming names. I’m barely speaking to some of them as it is.
And then there’s Iain. While we were being taken to school by a Belgian teenager in Amsterdam, Lazio put five past Manchester City in their own Round of 16 first leg. Five. Against Manchester City. That’s on top of a 3-0 win over Como, a 3-0 win over Palermo, a 2-0 win over Udinese, and a knockout playoff round survived against Aston Villa on away goals or aggregate or sheer bloody-mindedness, I’ve genuinely lost track. He sits sixth in Serie A purely because the table is congested at the top, not because anyone’s actually stopping him. At this rate he’s going to win the treble and send me a screenshot of the trophy cabinet with a single laughing emoji, and the worst part is I’ll deserve it.
Next time: the Ajax second leg at the Franchi, 11th March, where we attempt the footballing equivalent of asking for our money back three days after spending it.
