STADIA: ESTADIO SAN MAMES, BILBAO

In 1986, the Everton manager Howard Kendall was earmarked as a potential replacement for Terry Venables, who was at the time considering his position in the wake of Barcelona’s defeat to Steaua București in the European Cup final. Ultimately Venables decided to stay put, and in an ironic twist then paid Everton £2.8 million for the services of their star striker, Gary Lineker. The following season Kendall won a second First Division championship with Everton, after which Athletic Bilbao sent a delegation over to Liverpool to offer him a job. With English clubs banned from competing in Europe for the foreseeable future, the lure of managing abroad was too much for him to resist.

It is difficult, though not impossible, to imagine Kendall holding court at Camp Nou, but Estadio San Mamés seems his more natural habitat. It was, in many ways, comparable to Goodison Park: hemmed in, dominated by a large grandstand, irregularly joined up at the corners, of a similar size. Indeed, the old San Mamés was atypical of Spanish stadia, which is not something that can be said of the present one.
 
The original San Mamés – known to its regulars as La Catedral – was built in 1913 and consisted then of a wooden grandstand on one side, a rudimentary crescent-shaped terrace on the other and shallow lines of terracing behind each goal. Its capacity varies depending on where you get your information. Simon Inglis reckons 10,000, Estadios de Espana concurs, StadiumDB say 3,500, while The Stadium Guide and Athletic Bilbao’s own website stipulate 7,000, which by 1920 had risen to 9,000. Regardless, the most significant structural augmentation was implemented in 1953 with the construction of a massive two-tiered grandstand on the ground’s western perimeter. Bookended by two five-storey towers, acting as buttresses, the roof was suspended from a huge steel arch spanning 115 metres. As a standalone structure it must have seemed immense, contributing 12,000 seats towards a total capacity of 47,000, dwarfing the more modest stands that surrounded it.

The southern end of the stadium – the Tribuna de Capuchinos – was rebuilt in 1956, the northern – Tribuna de Misericordia – in 1962. Both had two tiers, propped roofs and irregular footprints, the metropolis having encroached upon San Mamés in the intervening years. In an effort to maximise this diminishing space, the south-eastern corner was filled in with a bank of rudimentary boxes. The east stand was then built up in 1971, retaining its distinctive crescent shape, and now also comprised of two covered tiers.

The next significant changes were a direct result of the 1982 World Cup, to be held in Spain. The east and west tribunas remained as they were, while the northern and southern ends were knocked down and replaced with matching stands, providing a degree of uniformity. The towers either side of the grandstand were removed to allow the newly built ends to join up with it, which involved inserting cantilevered brackets to support the weight of the arch. The roofs over these remodelled stands were also cantilevered, with rear windows running along the top of their curved outside edge. The southern end retained its awkward shape, angled to accommodate the road behind it (rather like Everton’s Goodison Road Stand). The ground now held around 46,000 of which 36,000 was seated. By the end of the 1990s the corners between the north, east and south stands had been filled in and seating implemented throughout, reducing the overall capacity to just under 40,000.

 

South and East stands with corner section.

In 2006, Athletic Bilbao announced its intention to build a new stadium. Because the site of the new build overlapped with the old, it was to be assembled in two stages. Work began on the stadium’s first three quarters in 2010 and was completed in September 2013, by which time the original one had been demolished, leaving a gap where it once stood.

In his book The Football Grounds of Europe, Simon Ingles says of Dusseldorf’s Rheinstadion that: ‘Had the stadium been completely enclosed, instead of being left open at the south end, the effect would have been far less appealing.’ He is referring to the development of the stadium between 1968 and 1972, and the reason it was left open was because of the open-air swimming pool contiguous to it. It wasn't an aesthetic choice but a practical one. The National Stadium in Cardiff used to be similarly breached, in that instance to allow light into the adjacent buildings. Oxford's Kassam Stadium, on the other hand, looks like it does because the club didn't have enough money to finish the job. There's nearly always a reason. Estádio Municipal de Braga, built into the side of a quarry, is the only ground I can think of where the effect is intentional and permanent. It has also won numerous architectural awards.

Needless to say, San Mamés didn't remain in this intermediate state for very long – just under a year. Once complete, the predictability of the design revealed itself. Consisting of two continuous tiers, with a smaller 'club level' between them, it resembles a scaled down version of Munich's Allianz Arena. It differs in that the leading edge of the upper tier undulates, sweeping downward towards the ground's corners. Arsenal's Emirates Stadium and Benfica's Estádio da Luz employ the same strategy, but whereas those stadia leave their corners open, here they've been filled in with 'sky boxes'. Whatever you think about high-end corporate facilities, these suites have the satisfying effect of sealing the ground in, literally and metaphorically. Unfortunately, Bilbao have followed Arsenal and Benfica's example in decking out the interior in toytown red (my description), which isn’t so obvious on match days but is an affront to the senses when the ground is empty.

From the outside, things are a little different. The site of the stadium is elevated, overlooking the River Nervión, the district of Deusto on the opposite side, and the river’s southern bank. It is visible from a number of angles and can be seen as another building in a long list of them that have proliferated in and around the district of Abando. Abando is not the city’s heart, Casco Viejo is, but it used to be its industrial centre. Nowadays, it is where you’ll find much of Bilbao’s modern architecture: the Isozaki Atea towers, Euskalduna Conference Centre and Concert Hall, La Salve Bridge, the Guggenheim Museum. Bilbao has long been in the process of reinventing itself, and buildings are its means. With this in mind, San Mamés had to walk a fine line; it needed to impose without being imposing.

It does and it isn’t. The façade is composed of five rows of twisted, white, vertical louvres made out of Ethylene Tetrafluoroethylene. Each row reaches out slightly farther than the one beneath and is capable of being backlit (another thing in common with Munich’s Allianz Arena).  Four large rectangular LED screens break the monotony, neatly encased within red-coloured frames. The roof is impressive too, although all that can be seen of it from street-level is a dark grey mantle angled inwards. It is enough to convey a sense of solidity, that there’s something substantial behind the permeable veneer.

And that was supposed to be that, but it rains a fair amount in Bilbao and it turned out the roof didn’t afford complete protection. Rather than live with it, like football fans used to, the canopy was extended in 2016 at a cost of €12.6 million. The visual quality of this extra coverage is debatable, and it has necessitated the use of artificial lighting to maintain the condition of the pitch, but at least everyone can keep dry.
 

On balance, Estadio San Mamés must be deemed a success. The old stadium was very old, and as interesting as it was from within it held little interest from without. The new stadium, although very much like other new stadiums, looks all right, is clean and comfortable, has excellent viewing angles (the stands are steeper than those at Arsenal) and can generate a good atmosphere. It’s that last point that really counts.

THE SARTORIAL ELEGANCE OF SERIE A: PALERMO, 1990-92 [ABM]

Same old story: Palermo got their colours after a laundry incident turned their football shirts pink. The club had previously worn a combination of red and blue, so it's doubtful that such a mutation is even possible. In any case, the more widely accepted explanation is based upon a letter sent to the club's president, Joshua 'Giuseppe' Whitaker, in 1905 suggesting the change to pink and black to represent the rosolio and amaro produced by Whitaker's family business, which was drunk after a game in accordance with the result: rosolio – which is pink, sweet – after a win, and amaro – black, bitter – in defeat. (It is not known what was consumed in the event of a draw.)

The new colours weren't in fact implemented until 1907, the same year the club changed its name to Palermo Foot-Ball Club. Hitherto, they'd identified as the Anglo-Palermitan Athletic and Foot-Ball Club, reflecting the team's English ties: the aforementioned ornithologist Joseph Whitaker, Viceconsul Edward De Garston, Norman Olsen, George Blake, who had previously been involved in the establishment of Genoa Cricket and Football Club, as well as Ignazio Pagano, a local Italian who had been introduced to football during his two years spent studying in England.

The opportunity to actually play football was scarce and centred around matches against the crews of passing British ships. Indeed, the only other team in Sicily at the time was Messina FC, founded in 1900 by Alfredo Marangolo, who had studied alongside Ignazio Pagano in London. In 1901, the two of them would get together and organise a match between their respective teams, and again in 1904, before the arrangement was solidified with the creation of the Whitaker Challenge Cup in 1905. This annual fixture ran for four consecutive years (honours even) before the 1908 Messina earthquake put a terrible stop to it.

In its place, and quite independent from it, came the Lipton Challenge Cup. One of the crews Palermo had played against had been that of the Erin, a privately owned yacht belonging Sir Thomas Lipton. Palermo had won, and the tea-magnate rewarded them with a formidable trophy. Unable to commit to a rematch, Lipton stipulated that teams from Sicily and Campania should compete annually for the cup, which effectively meant Palermo playing against either Naples Foot-Ball Club or Unione Sportiva Internazionale Napoli. This competition ran until 1915, cut short by Italy's entrance into the First World War.

In the wake of the conflict, a number of smaller clubs emerged: Trinacria, Itala, Esperia, and Racing FBC. Valentino Columbo, who'd played for Palermo prior to the war, purchased Racing FBC, who played in blue and white halved shirt, and rebranded them Unione Sportiva Palermo. Within a year, he changed the colours to pink and black, facilitating a sense of continuity between the new club and the older one. More mergers were to follow – with Unione Sportiva Leoni in 1922, Sport Club Libertas Palermo in 1923, and 'Vigor' in 1927 – and another name change, to Palermo Football Club. Meanwhile, the team muddled along in Lega Sud, struggling financially.

By the time of Serie A's inauguration in 1929, Palermo were playing in Group D – the 'Southern Directory Circle' – and came top of it, gaining promotion into Serie B. Coincidently, that same year the club commissioned a new badge, which is worthy of note because it was designed by the Italian painter and futurist Giuseppe 'Pippo' Rizzo. Comprised of a horizontally inclined rhombus set against a stylised, brown leather football, it was replaced as early as 1932 after Palermo won promotion into Serie A. This was the moment at which the club adopted the symbol of the golden eagle, derived from the city’s coat of arms, which remains in place to this day.
 
Like so many other Italian football teams, Palermo would soon fall foul of Fascist initiatives. First they were obliged to ‘Italianise’ their name, and not long after were pressured into taking on the colours of municipal Palermo – red and yellow. In the midst of all this, they were relegated. If that wasn’t bad enough, in 1940 the FIGC kicked them out of the league due to insolvency.

Not for the first time, Palermo were forced into affiliation with a lesser but more economically stable local rival. The team in question was Juventina Palermo, who just so happened to wear the same colours that Racing FBC had. The partnership was retitled Unione Sportiva Palermo-Juventina and within a couple of years were playing in pink and black; within four, they were called more simply Unione Sportiva Palermo.

The 1950s and 1960s would represent a period of relative stability for Palermo. Flitting between series A and B, the most dramatic thing that happened to them was another change of name, to Società Sportiva Calcio Palermo, a by-product of the club listing itself as a joint-stock company. At some point during this period – probably the late 1960s – Palermo started experimenting with stripes. By the 1970s, this trend seemed to have passed, a decade that was spent almost entirely within the confines of Serie B.
 

1979-80

The idea that the football shirt, and sportswear in general, is something other than utilitarian came about in the 1970s. If you wanted to identify a 'year zero' then 1972 might do, when Adidas launched their trefoil logo in the run up to the Munich Olympics. Up until then, branding in football had been low key, often non-existent. By the end of the decade it would be ubiquitous, thanks to the efforts of firms such as Admiral, Umbro, Puma and, of course, Adidas. In Italy, the company that led the charge was Pouchain.

This golden age of footballing couture would last until the end of the century, whereafter sports kit started to become more technical – or would pretend to be. Even though the notion of the football shirt as high performing sportwear is slightly disingenuous, it is fair to say that the invention of manmade fabrics has been of some benefit to the game, has it has for many other sports. When Pouchain were active, acrylic was the material of choice, which had itself superseded wool and cotton. Ennerre favoured acrylic, before eventually getting on board with polyester in the early 1990s, while ABM liked to mix polyester with cotton.

Palermo have had gear manufactured by all three: Pouchain from 1979-80, Ennerre from 1980-86, and ABM from 1990-96. Designed by Piero Gratton, Pouchain’s shirt had by far the best badge: the silhouetted profile of an eagle's head framed within the outline of a diamond. The problem with it was that the fashion of the day dictated that the jerseys were tightly fitted. The Ennerre shirts were more forgiving but suffered from the fact that they didn’t incorporate the club’s insignia, which wasn’t so unusual back then (see also Como, Avellino, even Juventus). After two years with Ennerre’s offshoot company Ennedue, who were equally negligent, Hummel stepped into the fold. Again, the Danish firm didn’t see fit to incorporate a badge, but otherwise showed promise. Finally, ABM took over, and knocked the ball out of the park.

Palermo’s 1990-91 shirt might be their best. For one, it had a badge, although not Gratton’s, which the club had got rid of in 1987. Instead, a Iberian style shield, of the type Inter used throughout the 1980s, with an oblique pink and black stripe running through the middle and the basic outline of an eagle’s head over the top. The template itself was the same that was being used at Fiorentina, Piacenza, Messina and Ternana: collar, trimmed V-neck, ABM's logo running in vertical micropatterned lines within the fabric of the shirt. The sponsor was ‘Citta di Palermo’ in what I can only assume was some sort of tourism initiative, which let it down a bit.

For the next season, the minimal club crest was dropped for a more complicated rendering of an eagle almost in flight. The collar was now black, while the new sponsor – consumer electronics producer Sèleco – was printed in blue. ABM also produced a pink and black striped third version with diagonal micropatterning, which hardly seemed necessary but looked good all the same.
 

1991-92

The 1990s saw Palermo – or Unione Sportiva Città di Palermo, as they were known from 1994 onward – yo-yoing between series B and C. The new century brought with it a revival of fortune, with the club qualifying for the UEFA Cup/Europa League on three separate occasions. The bubble finally burst in 2019, whereupon Palermo were forced to reregister as Palermo Società Sportiva Dilettantistica and ply their trade in Serie D. Upon promotion into Serie C in 2020, they were permitted to restitute the name Palermo Football Club, and are currently playing in Serie B wearing gear supplied by Puma.

STADIA: STADIO OLIMPICO, ROME

The received wisdom is that the 1990 World Cup lumbered Italy with a whole bunch of white elephants: ill-conceived stadiums that prioritised form over function, that were badly built, badly designed and then badly maintained. There is some truth in this, but it is a truth that applies to anything and everything: shopping malls, office blocks, warehouses, schools, leisure centres, airports, train stations, bus stations, parks, carparks, highways, bridges, public housing, mansions, palaces. The built environment can date very quickly, can fall apart very quickly.

In fact, the fate that has befallen the twelve venues that were selected for Italia ’90 is not in any way equal. Two of the stadia no longer exist: the Stadio Delle Alpi in Turin and the Stadio Sant'Elia in Cagliari. Udine's Stadio Friuli has been remodelled – only the tribuna, which predates the World Cup, survives – and the Stadio Artemio Franchi in Florence is undergoing a similar process. The condition of the remaining eight is various. Until recently, Bari’s San Nicola was in a bad way, but has since  been smartened up. The same can be said for the Stadio Diego Armando Maradona, but only of its interior – its exterior is a mess. Bologna and Palermo seem to be doing ok, at least from a distance, while Genoa and Verona look to be on a gradual downward trajectory. The only grounds that have retained their character, while still being regarded as functioning international venues, are Milan’s San Siro and Rome’s Stadio Olimpico. Some will complain about the condition of the San Siro but what they’re really griping about is the lack of corporate facilities; its general condition is actually rather good. The condition of the Stadio Olimpico, on the other hand, is very good.

The Stadio Olimpico was opened in 1953, though it was conceived of in 1926. Originally known as Stadio dei Cipressi (Stadium of the Cypress Trees), it was to be part of a larger sports’ complex commissioned by the Opera Nazionale Balilla (ONB), named the Foro Mussolini. A Fascist initiative, in other words. The architect Enrico Del Debbio was given the task of realising the project, with mixed results. The Stadio dei Marmi, which is a training facility rather than an actual stadium, appears as some sort of neoclassical joke. The Palazzo della Farnesina, however (which was not part of the same project but nonetheless overlooks it), exhibits signs of Italian Rationalism. This was Fascist architecture all over, a collusion between the modern and the ancient. In any case, Del Debbio never got to finish the job; just a single tier of it, dug into the ground. Not what modern stadia – especially not totalitarian stadia – were made of.

Stadio dei Cipressi was located on an area of marshland at the bottom of Monte Mario, which despite being the highest of all the hills in Rome is not one of the seven that the city is known for. When it was decided to enlarge the ground in 1937, with an eye on hosting the 1940 Summer Olympics, Debbio’s replacement, Luigi Moretti, simply built into the hill itself, utilising the displaced soil to raise the of level the playing field by four metres. The sides of the stadium that didn’t lean into Monte Mario were built of concrete.

There would be no Summer Olympics in 1940, and the stadium as it was saw little in the way of sporting action. Instead it welcomed Adolf Hitler on his state visit to Rome in 1938, staged a military celebration of the Tripartite Pact in 1941, and was used as a storage facility by Allied troops in 1944. After the war, control of the stadium was handed over to the Italian National Olympic Committee, suggesting that the idea of accommodating the Olympic Games had never gone away. In 1951, work began on redeveloping the site, headed by the engineer Carlo Roccatelli and architect Cesare Valle. (Annibale Vitellozzi, who had designed Roma Termini railway station, became involved after Roccatelli passed away in 1951.)

Central to the refurbishment was doing away with the structure’s reliance on Monte Mario. This part of the stadium was completely demolished, the hill excavated and a continuous tier built in its place, clad in travertine and enveloping what remained of the old one. The pitch was countersunk by 4.5 metres to limit the height of the stadium outside to 13 metres – it was felt that the structure shouldn’t dominate the buildings that surrounded it, nor compete with the hill. The Stadio dei Centomila (Stadium of the 100,000) as it was provisionally called, actually had an official capacity of 65,000, but considering how few seats there were it could easily hold more; at least 80,000 were present for the Italian national team’s inaugural match against Hungary. In 1960 the Olympic Games would finally come to Rome, by which time the stadium was being referred to as the Stadio Olimpico. It would be another 30 years before the ground changed in any overtly recognisable way.

 

1950s

If the 1990 World Cup final was to be played in Rome then it needed a stadium worthy of the occasion, which the Stadio Olimpico wasn't. A number of options were considered: build a new national stadium in the EUR district south-west of the capital, expand the Stadio Flaminio just down the road from the Stadio Olimpico, or renovate the Stadio Olimpico. Enlarging the Stadio Flaminio was quickly dismissed due to a lack of surrounding space, while building a new stadium from scratch was deemed too costly and too time-consuming. The Stadio Olimpico, then, would have to do.

The problem was the criteria in place for hosting a world cup final, which included a minimum all-seated capacity of 80,000 with at least two-thirds of that to be undercover. The Stadia Olimpico at that time had room for approximately 70,000 and no roof to speak of. Moreover, the stadium lacked a strong visual identity, which might not have strictly mattered but probably did, given what was happening in Milan and Turin.

The solutions to the first two problems were relatively simple: knock down and rebuild the curved ends to bring them closer to the action, extend the Tevere and Monte Mario grandstands to increase capacity, and put a roof over it all. In doing this, the curvature of the end terraces, which stood some way back from the goal-line, was reduced, bringing them 10 metres closer to the field of play. These new curvas would be 80 rows deep, meaning that the tribunes had to be extended by 20 so as to meet up with them at the top.

Once work began, it became apparent that the Monte Mario’s foundations were in no fit state to sustain the planned extension and had to be demolished. Its replacement was rebuilt in a manner that more gracefully followed the sweep of the new north and south curves, without the jarring intersections that would inflict the tribuna opposite. (It also had the unintended but beneficial consequence of freeing up room for various service facilities that would have otherwise been housed in temporary, external structures.) Meanwhile, aluminium terraces supported by wooden, lamellar beams were appended to the back of the Tevere – as had been planned for the Monte Mario. The original façade was preserved, bookended by two cylindrical stairwells wrapped around columns that also upheld the roof, the only visible trace of the original construction.

The roof itself was more problematic. The initial design called for eight reinforced concrete towers with the roof suspended from it, but the Ministry of Cultural Heritage objected, successfully, on the grounds that it would negatively impact the view towards Monte Mario. Its replacement did away with the towers, thus maintaining a much lower profile, and was arguably the more attractive solution anyway. Comprised of an elliptical, reticular metal frame with a triangular cross-section, it rested upon 16 columns encircling the stadium’s perimeter, four of them made of concrete – incorporating the aforementioned stairwells – the rest steel. From the frame were attached 78 52-metre long galvanised steel cables, rather like the spokes of a bicycle wheel, which held in place the roof covering itself, made of a translucent glass-wool membrane coated with PTFE (the actual name for Teflon).

A final detail of note is the band of dark glass panels that runs around the stadium’s exterior, pausing either side of the unadorned Tribuna Tevere. It was an odd choice for a building so beholden to the nature of its environment but isn’t as obtrusive as it might sound, reflecting back at you the many stone pines dotted about the area.

It has been pointed out that the Stadio Olimpico and Stadio Diego Maradona are of a similar vintage, although this neglects the fact that the Stadio Olimpico was almost entirely rebuilt for the World Cup. The point still stands. Rome has never let the situation get out of hand; it has tended to the upkeep of its stadium and to the condition of the immediate surroundings.

It is not the prettiest of stadiums, nor the most architecturally daring. The roof is the most interesting thing about it, which was ahead of its time, but the structure itself is born out of pragmatism. The cool blue running track blends in harmoniously with the similarly coloured seating, imbuing the place with a sense of calm. Renovations carried out in 2007/08, in readiness for the Champions League final in 2009, weren’t radical but cemented the ground’s status as UEFA 5-star venue. That it was awarded the opening ceremony of 2020 European Football Championships was more than a mere gesture.

THE SARTORIAL ELEGANCE OF SERIE A: UDINESE CALCIO, 1987-90 [ABM]

 

Anyone with more than a passing interest in Italian football will probably know that the country's first football club was Genoa, established in 1893. But how many of us can name the second? Answer: Udinese, established in 1896. Just as Genoa began life as Genoa Cricket & Athletic Club, Udinese operated under the patronage of the Società Udinese di Ginnastica e Scherma (Udinese Gymnastics and Fencing Society). Such multifaceted sporting arrangements were not uncommon back then, and many an Italian team can testify to such origins. There normally came a point, however, when the football-oriented wing of these organizations would seek to establish its own identify.

For Udinese that point came in 1911, with the formation of the Associazione del Calcio Udine. Exchanging their all-black jerseys for black and white halved ones, the club registered with the Federazione Italiana Giuoco Calcio (FIGC), and were duly allocated a regional place in the 1912-13 Promozione. Pitted against Unione Sportiva Petrarca and Calcio Padova, Udinese came second in their group, which was enough to gain entry into the Veneto-Emilian section of next season's Prima Categoria, where they remained up World War 1.

Conflict over, Udinese became part of Associazione Sportiva Udinese, and the team's colours were again tinkered with: black-trimmed white shirts paired with white shorts and black socks. It was in this kit that Udinese made it to the first ever final of the Coppa Italia, losing to FC Vado by one goal, in 1922. [It should be noted that most of the so-called 'bigger' clubs in Italy were at the time registered with the Confederazione Calcistica Italiana and not eligible to compete in the Italian Cup, which was the initiative of the FIGC.] The same year the club was promoted into the newly created Prima Divisione, only to be relegated the following season.

Meanwhile, Udinese's mounting debts precipitated a separation from the Associazione Sportiva and would have ended in dissolution had the club's president, Alessandro del Torso, not raised enough money to keep them afloat. A reconfigured Associazione Calcio Udinese were promoted back into the Prima Divisione in 1825, but were relegated the year after into Group B of what was also called the Prima Divisione, given that the highest league had been rebranded as the Divisione Nazionale.

           
In 1930 Udinese advanced into a newly conceptualized Serie B as champions of the Prima Divisione, after coming top of Group C (Northern Division) and then defeating Palermo 3-1 in a played-off final. By now Udinese were wearing black and white striped shirts, a combination they would wear consistently over the course of the next five decades. Their form would remain consistent too, in a sense. The 1930s would be played out in Serie C, the 1940s saw Udinese competing in Serie B, the 1950s in Serie A, and the latter half of the '60s and most of the '70s spent back in Serie C.

It was towards the end of the 1970s that club began to revive itself. Having moved into a newly built stadium in 1976 – the Stadio Friuli, with its distinctive elliptical arch – Udinese completed a treble of sorts, finishing top of Group A of Serie C and winning both the Coppa Italia Lega Pro and the Anglo-Italian Cup. The following year, after abbreviating their name to Udinese Calcio, they were promoted into Serie A as champions of Serie B. Finally, in 1980, Udinese defeated Čelik Zenica in the final of the Coppa Mitropa.

 

After decades of sartorial stability, Udinese decided it was time for another change. Discarding the traditional black and white stripes, the club opted for a shirt con palo – literally, 'with pole'. In other words, white with a wide, black vertical stripe straight down the middle. Made by Pouchain it also featured a new crest, designed by the great Piero Gratton, depicting a zebra's head inscribed within a green circle. The badge didn't last long and was replaced in 1981 with a white shield displaying an inverted black V with a red Z beneath it – which stood for the home appliance manufacturer 'Zanussi', who had recently taken the club over – and the words 'udinese calcio' (lower case) printed above it. (For 1981-82, the jersey itself, produced by the Italian fashion brand Americanino, was adorned with the Z on its own, which I don't suppose went down very well.)

In 1984 Diadora succeeded Americanino as technical sponsor and made further alterations. The new shirt was essentially black but with a thick white band running diagonally from the left arm down across the torso, and also bore the name of a commercial sponsor, Agfacolor. Then in 1986 ABM took over from Diadora but left the jersey well alone.

 

Things came to a head in 1987. The Brazilian Zico had come and gone and Udinese's results hadn't been going their way. The club's involvement in the 1986 Italian football betting scandal saw them hit with a nine-point penalty deduction, resulting inevitably in relegation. As if taking stock, ABM reverted to the evenly gauged black and white stripes of Udinese's past. And a new sponsor: Rex, a high-end subsidiary of Zanussi. Writ in amber against a black background, and with a deliberately misaligned E, it brought welcome relief to an otherwise achromatic template – as did ABM's red, angular insignia. A neat, trimmed collar completed the look.

Udinese rounded off 1987-88 season in a mediocre tenth place, although the appointment of Nedo Sonetti as head coach in December had brought with it an improvement in form during the second half of the season. So it proved. In 1989, with the collar now removed, Udinese finished third, which got them back into Serie A. Foreign players were then purchased in an effort to stay there – the Argentines Abel Balbo and Nestor Sensini, Spanish veteran Ricardo Gallego – and a new coach too – Bruno Mazzia. ABM reinstated the missing collars, but everything else about the strip remained the same.

It didn't work out. Udinese were condemned to Serie B on the last day of the season, despite beating Inter 4-3. The club subsequently became embroiled in another match-fixing scandal that deferred their return to Serie A for a couple of years. Adidas replaced ABM before Lotto came along and ruined everything. Now firmly entrenched within Serie A, Udinese's gear is currently provided by Macron, who have seen fit to experiment with the various formats of their predecessors.

STADIA: STADIO DIEGO ARMANDO MARADONA, NAPLES

 

They don’t build stadiums like the Stadio Diego Armando Maradona/San Paolo anymore. They never really did, at least not in Europe. It is an approach more common to South America.

What is this approach? An elliptical, continuous terrace with a raised, uncovered tier overlooking it, made of concrete. There are other Italian grounds built in a similar style – Lecce’s Stadio Via del Mare, Avellino’s Stadio Partenio – but they are much smaller and only partially covered. The trend in Italy generally has been for cheaper ‘stadium’ shaped stadiums: obround arenas with straight sides and curved ends. Rectangular football grounds, traditionally referred to as ‘English-style’, used to be a rarity, which is no longer the case.

The Stadio del Sole (it officially became known as Stadio San Paolo in 1963) was constructed between 1952 and 1959 after the previous ground, in the hilltop district of Vomero, proved too small to accommodate SSC Napoli’s burgeoning popularity. Designed by a team led by the rationalist architect Carlo Cocchia, the new stadium had a capacity of 85,012. By comparison, the San Siro in Milan stood at around 82,000, having undergone a major overhaul in 1955. Both stadia were uncovered and had two lines of symmetry.

They also shared an aesthetic quality. Although shaped differently – one an ellipse, the other a rounded rectangle – the two grounds were constructed from reinforced concrete, with no attempt made to disguise the fact. Whereas Italian stadia built during the interwar period had hidden, quite literally, behind the façade of Italian Rationalism (which used to be Cocchia’s thing, incidentally) the San Paolo and San Siro leaned towards Brutalism.

The San Paolo went further than the San Siro in that its infrastructure was left completely exposed. The nineteen 200-metre long helical ramps that enveloped the San Siro presented a solid geometry; the 56 vertical concrete ribs that supported the upper tier of the San Paolo did not. In between these ribs, at semi-regular intervals, were perpendicular stairwells working their way upward along the underside of the bowl. In common with the San Siro, plenty of empty space surrounded it providing enough distance from which to appreciate the shape and scale of the building.

Pier Luigi Nervi (responsible for the Stadio Flaminio in Rome and Stadio Comunale in Florence, and a dab hand when it came to reinforcing concrete) was said to be impressed with Cocchia’s work. It is not known whether he was similarly appreciative of Armando Ronca’s.
 

1950s

Napoli didn’t perform as well in their new environment as might have been expected, succumbing to relegation within two years of moving in. That said, the club won promotion back into Serie A at the first attempt, winning the Coppa Italia – their first major trophy – in the process. It would be another 14 years before Napoli won another, although they were consistent enough in the league, generally finishing in the upper half of the table.

In the meantime, the San Paolo was proving its worth. As well as playing host to the Italian national team, it was used for football in the 1960 Olympic Games, was the main venue for the 1963 Mediterranean Games, was selected for the 1968 European Championship (one of three grounds chosen), the 1980 European Championship (one of four) and the 1990 World Cup (one of twelve).

It was in preparing for the 1990 World Cup that the San Paolo’s troubles started, a project to be supervised by Fabrizio Cocchia, son of the original architect. Certain improvements were straightforward enough. The lower tier was reconfigured to allow for a steeper rake. The lack of facilities, and space for them, was dealt with by erecting a raised concourse around the base of the stadium. New dressing rooms were constructed beneath the running track, as well as an underground multi-storey car park with room enough for 2,000 vehicles. Red seats were installed throughout, reducing the overall capacity. The upper tier was to be extended upwards to offset this reduction, and was, but not until after the World Cup.

And then there was the roof. Not the roof we see today but the one that the architect Giuseppe Squillante had envisaged. The issue was steel and a tender involving 8.5 million kilos of the stuff. Squillante’s more elegant design only required 2 million, and so was vetoed. The covering built in its place (engineered by Luigi Corradi) wasn’t unpleasant to look at but the twenty-eight L-shaped steel masts needed to support it were. The roof itself was made up of what the manufacturer, Caoduro, called ‘thermoformed radial tunnels’ – translucent polycarbonate panels, semi-circular along the length of the overhanging beams, like inverted gutters, and triangular in between, creating a sort of concertina effect. A sizeable gap was left between the perimeter of the upper tier and the underside of the roof, letting in light, ventilating the interior, and giving the impression that the canopy was somehow floating in mid-air.

From within it didn't look at all bad. From without it was a different story. Surrounded by steel pylons, the impact of the concrete bowl was lost. The extension to the upper tier, once finished, added yet more steel and detracted from the stadium's pre-existing rim, one of its most pleasing features. The effect was of something incomplete.

The 2019 Summer Universiade (University Games) provided an incentive to address some of the stadium's shortcomings, but not many. This 'restyling project' involved replacing the faded red seats with a pleasing mix of blue, grey, white and yellow ones, refitting the athletics track, installing two large digital screens, and refurbishing the changing facilities and the sound and lighting systems.

What it didn't address was the stadium's exterior, which needed, and still needs, a lot of work. The underside of the concrete bowl is spalled and the area that surrounds it is a mess. It is accepted that the best thing to do would be to dismantle the tier extension – and even the roof – but it appears that there's not enough money to be made in salvaging all that steel. Other issues include poor sight-lines, the rarely used athletics track, the perpetually empty car-park, and a reduced capacity of 54,732, which is decent enough by most club's standards but insufficient by Napoli's. The club's president, Aurelio De Laurentiis, has mooted the possibility of building a new ground somewhere else, free from the municipality's intransigency and lack of investment, but you can't see it happening anytime soon.

Yet the Stadio Diego Armando Maradona, as it has been known since 2019, is the scene of the some of the greatest moments in Napoli's history. Moreover, it generates an atmosphere and has a unique charm that can be hard to find in more modern constructions. It will gladly do for the time being.

THE SARTORIAL ELEGANCE OF SERIE A: S.S.C. NAPOLI, 1988-90 [NR/ENNERRE]

Napoli’s colours are tenuously informed by those of their ancestors: Naples Foot-Ball Club and Unione Sportiva Internazionale Napoli. The former wore sky and navy blue striped shirts with black shorts and socks; the latter, darker blue shirts and socks with white shorts.

US Internazionale Napoli were in fact the result of a schism within Naples FBC itself. In 1911, wishing to engage teams from the north and perhaps feeling that the existing organisation wasn’t ambitious enough, the foreign (mostly English) members of Naples Foot-Ball Club decided to go it alone. The split imposed a financial burden on both parties and so in 1922 they re-amalgamated, taking on the name Foot-Ball Club Internazionale-Naples. As a sort of compromise, they would wear white-trimmed sky blue jerseys and socks paired with white shorts, the same that would become the colours of Associazione Calcio Napoli.

Yet the arrangement seemed to be skewed in the expatriates' favour. The appointed president, Emilio Reale, had also been president of Internazionale, and their chosen ground in Agnano was the one they used to play on. Even the sports’ press appeared to be in on it, habitually referring to the team as 'Internazionale' in their match reports.

The years that followed were relatively uneventful until the signing of the Charter of Viareggio in 1926, which granted the team entry into the newly formed Divisione Nazionale. The charter was essentially a Fascist initiative, and so under duress the company’s shareholders elected to take on the name Associazione Calcio Napoli, which had a more nationalist ring to it (one of the provisions of the charter was a ban on foreign players). It is this incarnation of the club that is officially recognised as being the first.

Napoli struggled and would have been relegated (twice) if the FIGC hadn’t intervened, on the basis that for the National Division to succeed it needed teams in it from the south. Just as well, because 1928-29 would effectively be a qualifying tournament for the leagues that were to proceed it: Series A and B

Again, Napoli got lucky. The original idea was to create two groups of 16 with the best eight in each being rewarded with a place in Serie A, while the remaining 16 teams would be allocated places in Serie B. Napoli finished eighth in their group, tied on points with Società Sportiva Lazio. A play-off ensued, which ended in a draw. A replay was on the cards until the club’s chairman, Giorgio Ascarelli, was able to convince the head of the FICG to expand Serie A to accommodate 18 teams, allowing both Napoli and Lazio to qualify. (Triestina were the beneficiary in the other group.)

Giorgio Ascarelli may have realised that this was a defining moment in the club’s history, for he prepared accordingly. William Garbutt, the English coach who had revolutionised Italian football during his 15 year stint with Genoa, was poached from southern rivals AS Roma. Attacking midfielders Antonio Vojak and Marcello Mihalich were signed from Juventus and Fiumana respectively, providing striker Attila Sallustro with support (although he’d done all right without them, scoring 22 goals the previous season). Finally, work began on a new purpose-built ground: Stadio Partenopeo – also known as Stadio Vesuvio, and soon to become Stadio Giorgio Ascarelli when the man who financed it died suddenly in February 1930, just a couple of weeks after its inauguration. The club finished the season in fifth place.

Napoli breezed through the 1930s but were then relegated in 1942. In 1944 they moved to a stadium in Vomero on a hill on the northwestern edge of the city, before events caught up with them and they were forced to suspend all activities.

In the aftermath of the Second World War Napoli were obliged to take part in the Serie A/B Centro-Sud Championship, a temporary solution designed to overcome the impracticality of travelling long distances in a country ravaged by conflict. Because most Serie A teams were from the north, they constituted one division, while the central and southern Serie A and B teams were put together in another. Given that Napoli were effectively a Serie B outfit they weren’t fancied, but won their group regardless. Not only did this put them through to the final, national round, but it ensured promotion to Serie A for the subsequent year.

Following a brief spell in Serie B from 1948-50 Napoli then managed eleven consecutive seasons in Italy’s top flight, whilst also constructing and moving into the Stadio San Paolo. On being relegated in 1961 they made it back into Serie A at the first attempt, winning the Coppa Italia in the process. The next year, after reaching the quarter finals of the Cup Winner’s Cup, where they lost to OFK Beograd on away goals, Napoli were again relegated. Burdened with debt, local businessman Roberto Fiore bought into the club in 1964, making it a joint-stock company. Now known as Società Sportiva Calcio Napoli, they won promotion the following year wearing for the most part their away strip: all white with a sbarra (sash or 'bar') tracing a diagonal line from the right shoulder of the shirt down to the left. (When running in the opposite direction, it is instead referred to as a banda.)

Former president Achille Lauro was still a 40% stakeholder and so invested in the team, bringing in Omar Sívori from Juventus and José Altafini from Milan. It paid dividends. SSC Napoli finished the championship in third place and were also victorious in the Coppa delle Alpi. They achieved this wearing a darker shade of blue, introduced in 1960. For 1966-67, which was also relatively successful, they would revert to the lighter blue more commonly associated with the club.

It would be another ten years before Napoli won another trophy – the Coppa Italia in 1976 – which is not to say they did badly in between. The club regularly finished in the higher echelons of Serie A and made the semi-finals of the Italian Cup on three occasions, wearing sky blue white-trimmed jerseys. The next significant change, both in the team’s fortunes and its livery, occurred in the mid-1980s.

1988-89

When Diego Armando Maradona signed for Napoli in 1984 their kit supplier was a manufacturer called Linea Time, more commonly associated with cycling. Despite doing a decent job, Ennerre/NR took over in 1985. Their acrylic jersey, sponsored by Buitoni, did away with the white trim and added a collar. [Ennerre also supplied a trimmed polyester version with faint pinstripes, possibly intended for warmer conditions.] The same strip was used for a consecutive season whereupon Napoli won their first Scudetto and third Coppa Italia.

In 1987, as testament to their recent achievements, Napoli’s shirt was adorned with both the scudetto and the coccarda – a shield and a roundel respectively, incorporating the colours of the Italian flag. To make room for the scudetto, the club's badge was moved to the left shoulder. The coccarda, meanwhile, was positioned directly beneath Ennerre's logo, just above the 'B' in Buitoni. It looked a mess. The club did, however, purchase the Brazilian striker Careca.

After winning nothing in 1987-88 the shirt could have potentially reverted to its previous configuration. Instead, the confectioners Mars took over sponsorship from food producer Buitoni. 'Mars' was initially printed in white, but was switched to black about halfway through the season, presumably to enhance its definition. Moreover, NR issued the shirt in two different materials: polyester and Lanetta, which is basically acrylic. New signings included the Brazilian Alemão from Atlético Madrid, Luca Fusi from Sampdoria, and Massimo Crippa from Torino. Napoli finished runners-up to Inter in the championship, lost to Sampdoria in the final of the Coppa Italia, but beat Stuggart over two legs to win the UEFA Cup. This unadorned jersey remained unchanged for following season, as Maradona led Napoli to victory in Serie A. They won more games, scored more goals, amassed more points than during their previous title-winning campaign, but the winning margin was less: two points more than AC Milan, compared to three ahead of Juventus. Maradona was top scorer with 16 league goals, Careca second with 10.

Maradona’s final season with Napoli would also be Ennerre’s (before Umbro stepped into the fold, ruining everything). NR didn’t see fit to change what wasn’t broken, although there were a few twists. Again, two shirts were made, both in polyester: a plain, almost silky iteration as before, and a matt version micro-patterned with the NR insignia. (AS Roma were presented with the same dilemma.) If that wasn’t enough, an alternative ‘Cup Shirt’ was produced. Blue with an undulating white band across the front, it was worn in the 5-1 drubbing of Juventus in the 1990 Supercoppa Italiana, against Cosenza in the Coppa Italia, Spartak Moscow in the second round of the European Cup (whereupon Napoli were beaten on penalties), and in a number of league games early on in the season. The template was also used for a red, third shirt, while the away kit was white with pale blue rhomboids running horizontally across the chest. Napoli ended the season in a disappointing eighth place.

Cup Shirt, 1990-91

Considering how few changes Ennerre actually made, it is amazing to think how many different jerseys they produced during their six year tenure. The 1986-7 edition seems to be the most popular, in which Napoli won their first scudetto. You might equally fancy the first Mars shirt; it might simply come down to whether you like your fonts with or without serifs. Or maybe you prefer the contrast in colour the scudetto and the coccarda bring, even if the overall effect is a bit busy. Whichever version you favour, they’re all representative of a specific moment in time: Maradona in his pomp, and the fairy tale he bestowed upon the city of Naples and its people.

THE SARTORIAL ELEGANCE OF SERIE A: A.S. ROMA, 1990-91 [NR/ENNERRE]

On the face of it, A.S. Roma is one of Italy’s younger football clubs. In fact, they were the result of a merger between three pre-existing associations: Foot Ball Club di Roma, formed in 1901, Società Sportiva Alba-Audace, in 1907, and Fortitudo-Pro Roma S.G.S., in 1908. The union came about in 1927 on the orders of the National Fascist Party, who were determined that the capital be suitably represented in a revamped Divisione Nazionale; both Società Sportiva Alba-Audace and Fortitudo-Pro Roma S.G.S. had been relegated from the same division in 1927, while Foot Ball Club di Roma had been plying their trade in the Prima Divisione, the de facto second tier of Italian football. Foot Ball Club di Roma would provide the infrastructure, financial muscle and the new club’s colours, while Alba and Fortitudo-Pro Roma supplied most of the players.

Foot Ball Club di Roma had worn carmine red shirts with yellow trim, matching socks and white shorts. A.S. Roma’s strip was to be the same, except with black socks. Within a year of the club’s formation, red and yellow striped jerseys were introduced. Within another two they were gone, the original configuration having been reinstated in time for Serie A’s inaugural season.

In 1938 the socks were altered to match the shirts, and it was in these colours that Roma won their first scudetto four years later. A period of decline ensued culminating in relegation, which may or may not have prompted the move to black shorts and socks. Roma were promoted the following season as champions, persisted with the black shorts and socks for another couple of years before returning to white shorts and red, yellow-trimmed socks.

The 1960s saw only minor alterations: various shades of red, plain collars, the addition of the coccarda to celebrate Roma’s victory in the 1964 Coppa Italia. Then in 1968-69 something peculiar happened. At the insistence of the coach, Helenio Herrera, Roma inverted their kit for the second half of the season; the away shirt became the home and the home became the away. This reversal remained in place until Herrera left the club in 1973.

The next significant change came about in 1978. Adidas, who had succeeded Lacoste as technical sponsor, produced a strip consisting of orange shirts paired with red shorts and socks. About midway through the season, Pouchain then took over from Adidas and brought in what's become known as the 'ice-lolly' jersey: bright red with white sleeves and yellow and orange stripes across the shoulders. Designed by Piero Gratton, it was all part of a re-branding exercise that included a new, modern looking club crest – the lupetto, or ‘wolf's head’.

The template proved to be divisive, and the relationship was anyway short-lived. In 1980, after winning another Coppa Italia – their third – Roma hooked up with a mysterious company by the name of Playground, who retained Gratton’s badge but otherwise reverted to type: all red, yellow trim edging towards orange. Another Coppa Italia triumph followed, and their league form continued to improve. Having finished sixth in 1980, Roma came second in ‘80-81, third in ‘81-82, before finally securing their second ever Serie A title in 1982-83, in shirts provided by the Belgian sportswear manufacturer Patrick.

Despite failing to defend their scudetto, Roma made a good go of it in 1983-84: they came second in the league, bagged their fifth Coppa Italia, and were runners up against Liverpool in the 1984 European Cup final (Liverpool decked out in red, A.S. Roma in white). By now the team's shirts were supplied by Kappa, an association that would last three years, culminating in yet another Coppa Italia triumph in 1986, beating Sampdoria over two legs. Thereafter, Roma formed an alliance with NR (Ennerre) that would run until 1991.

1979-80

Ennerre joined up with Roma during what was supposed to be Sven-Göran Eriksson’s third season in charge – 1986/87. Made from acrylic (or lanetta), the corresponding jersey bore the coccarda but failed to inspire anything higher than a seventh place finish in the league and a second-round exit in the Coppa Italia (courtesy of Bologna). Eriksson was shown the door in May, Angelo Sormani took temporary charge, before Nils Liedholm – the man who had guided A.S. Roma to their title win in 1983 – re-joined the club, intent on resurrecting past glories.

Notwithstanding the loss of Carlo Ancelotti to AC Milan – from where Leidholm had just came – Roma looked a decent proposition ahead of 1987-88. Club legends Giuseppe Giannini and Bruno Conti were still present and correct, Polish midfielder Zbigniew Boniek had another season left in him, and the new coach was able to lure promising defender Gianluca Signorini from Parma (who would leave after one season for Genoa) and the highly coveted German striker Rudi Völler from Werder Bremen. And so it proved. Völler took time to settle but Giannini rose to the occasion scoring 11 times from his position in midfield, helping Roma to secure third place behind Napoli and AC Milan, thus qualifying for the UEFA Cup.

1988-89’s campaign failed to meet expectations. Roma were knocked out in the third round of the UEFA Cup by East German minnows Dynamo Dresden, only made it as far as the second round of the Coppa Italia, and finished a disappointing seventh in Serie A. Nils Liedholm was sent packing, as were the under-performing Brazilian pairing of Andrade and Renato. On a brighter note, Rudi Völler appeared to be finding his feet, having scored 15 goals in all competitions.

Perhaps conscious that A.S. Roma’s form had begun to stagnate, Ennerre switched the configuration of the club’s crest with their company logo – the badge was transposed to the right, the NR insignia to the left – which seemed to have the desired effect. Roma finished the season in sixth place and made it to the semi-finals of the Coppa Italia, losing narrowly to eventual winners Juventus. The slight improvement in the club’s fortunes may more realistically be attributed to the appointment of Luigi Radice as coach.

At any rate, club president Dino Viola had already decided he wanted Ottavio Bianchi to assume coaching responsibilities, and would have employed him a year earlier if Bianchi’s contract with Napoli had allowed for it. (Radice had not been made aware of this and it left a sour taste in his mouth when it became clear that he’d merely been hired as temporary cover whilst Roma waited for Bianchi to become available.) Ottavio Bianchi, when he finally arrived in the summer of 1990, enlisted the services of his ex-Napoli employee Andrea Carnevale, who was very quickly caught out on a doping violation (along with goalkeeper Angelo Peruzzi) and banned from competing for the next 12 months. Brazilian defender Aldair signed from Benfica, shoring up a defence that already included the German centre-back Thomas Berthold.

Meanwhile, Ennerre decided to ditch the acrylic and embrace polyester. In every other respect the shirt was pretty much the same, save for two strands of yellow piping running diagonally from the neck down to under the arm. Moreover, as at Napoli, Ennerre supplied two versions of the same shirt: one in unembellished polyester and the other micro-patterned with NR’s magnificent logo. They also provided a second away jersey, in the same style as Napoli's so-called 'cup shirt'. White with a red and yellow convoluted stripe reaching from one arm to the other, the top was used sparingly but has since become something a cult classic.

Roma’s subsequent league form was erratic. However, in the UEFA Cup they ran riot and lost only narrowly over a two-legged final to Inter (Rudi Völler was the competition’s leading scorer with 10 goals). Then, less than a month later, Roma sealed an empathetic 4-2 aggregate victory over Serie A winners Sampdoria in the Coppa Italia.

The Curva Sud faithful would have to wait another ten years before their team lifted another trophy – A.S. Roma’s third scudetto – by which time they’d reverted to wearing white shorts and black socks. Actually, Roma’s kit has fared better over the years than many of their rivals’, but it's never quite hit the heights that Ennerre bestowed upon them during the latter half of the 1980s and early '90s.