Travel Tips

I'd like to claim that I planned my latest trip to Florence carefully around the Calcio Storico tournament. But, despite the fact that I'd wanted to see a match for years, it came as a complete surprise to realize that I'd arrive in Florence on the Sunday of the second tournament match. Walking through my old Santa Croce neighborhood, I realized that the streets were all closed for a good reason. In fact, the area around Santa Croce is almost entirely locked down for the entire afternoon of the match. Don't even think of crossing the barriers without a ticket!

Actually, that isn't a threat at all. The security guards of the match and barriers were very helpful when it came to finding the ticket office and the correct entrance.

I got to Santa Croce quite early as the starting times of the procession and match were different. It was recommended that I arrive at 4:30 and I was there even a bit before that. I grabbed a meal at Standa down the street and sat on the side steps of Santa Croce with my seafood and fruit juice watching a group of young boys play football.

I'd bought a ticket for the Rossi side of the stands. I chose it simply because it was the only side listed with a particular notation at the ticket office. I figured that any team with its own advertising was worth a shot. Not only did Rossi win, it was also the perfect place to sit!

The entire afternoon was the best people watching I could imagine! It started with the few fans that began to join me in the stands. There were plenty of tourists but certainly the majority were locals. And, off to our left (sitting with our backs to Santa Croce) all of the performers began to congregate. There, among the ambulances and emergency workers, gathered the entire procession in the hour or so before the festivities began. As more and more costumed Florentines arrived, quite a few spectators (myself included) leaned over the side of the stands in order to take photos.

It was the most interesting combination of real life and antique formality - men greeting one another heartily, smoking and laughing while dressed all the time in clothing of another era.

Both of the sides did their stretching and chanting just behind where we were sitting as well. The tone of the shouting was my first clue that this event was going to be something serious!

I never thought I'd have a thing for men in tights, but I hadn't seen the flag throwers of Florence.

I'd seen the Bandierai degli Uffizi before at Easter. It seems as though they stay rather busy with events and performances around the city. They even have a branch that travels Europe and the world performing.

I must say that the flag throwing was top of the list of attractions. When it comes down it, it's more nuanced than the Wrestling + American football + Freeze Tag that is Calcio Storico.

Having lived in the Santa Croce neighborhoods for a few months, I'd walked the streets around the church many times. In fact, at the end of my stay in 2003, the piazza had been set up in just this way for the upcoming tournament. To be able to look at the piazza with all the fuss and flutter - not to mention sand - was like seeing it for the first time.

That being said, I should have probably cheered for the Santa Croce team, but I'll admit to being very glad to later learn that Rossi (my adopted team - Santa Maria Novella) won the final.

There were horses and drummers and men and women representing citizens of Florence's renaissance. In fact, they filled the pitch that filled the piazza. This was were the females were represented on the day...only a few, mind you! But, they, too were dressed in beautiful period costumes and their entrance was treated with great ceremony.

After the procession, the pitch emptied for the game (not without drums and multicolored smoke bombs). Many of the people in costume joined the masses in the Rossi section, some joining wives and family, others sitting with their costumed friends, their presence adding an air of dignity to the section.

One, an older gentleman in a sword-bearing regiment, was seated in front of me. He chatted with me before realizing my limited Italian and, after he slowed a bit, I used my jet-lagged Italian to stumble my way through a series of small conversations over the course of the match. When it was time for him to line up for the final procession, he apologized before leaving.

Much later, as the teams and drummers and ... everyone were filing out for the last time, I was again at the rail, watching the exit, not even bothering to take pictures. Many were being greeted by family, waving to a friend or family member, calling back and forth. I watched, loving the moment but feeling very much the tourist until the friendly sword-bearer caught my eye and said, "Ciao!" with a wave. Grinning my biggest grin, I waved back, answered with a "Ciao!" of my own and felt very much at home.

Aaaah, the flag throwing. At Easter, all of the ages performed separate routines. This time, it was just the official adult squad that wowed us with advanced routines. In fact, walking back toward Piazza della Signoria after the match, I caught an extended performance as the Bandierai returned to their offices near the Straw Market.

As they marched, they stopped at times to perform a routine - there was much ceremony. I followed for a bit, enjoying the amazed looks on the tourists who congregated, not knowing what they were seeing but knowing it was important. It gave me a different perspective on those traditions. Perhaps for those who dress up so ornately and find room in their modern lives for ancient traditions, it's not entirely about being in a club. Perhaps it's also about the surprise and amazement on faces of people who have no idea what it is they're really seeing. Perhaps it's for every tourist that goes home with photos of a performance of which they caught only a moment.

While living in Florence, I walked through Piazza della Signoria so many times that - while I caught my breath at the sight - it wasn't the same thing as seeing it for the first time. One day, though, I found myself in the midst of a family from England, two parents with their young son. As they entered the piazza, the father looked back at his son, both of them clearly amazed at what they were seeing. The father said, "Hey, Owen...It IS Utopia!"

I think they'd have liked the flag throwing very much.

I've been waxing more and more poetic as I've progressed down this page! It's no surprise, really, seeing that this experience felt like a glorious welcome back to a city I love.

I guess I should just be glad that I felt safe. The tournament was canceled last year thanks to past violence. Watching the game, that's not surprising. What is surprising is that the violence that caused a problem was between the players and the fans!

No violence to be found in the stands, even in the very vocal Rossi section. Instead, there was much cheering, much wondering about the rules (at least among the tourists) and a huge banner showing a cartoon Rossi player. It was unfurled as the teams took the pitch, but quickly put away so that everyone could see.

No, the only violence was on the pitch as the men, some colossal in size, took certain things personally. Sometimes, when colossal men take things personally, they punch each other in the face. Then, when the punchee is hustled off the field by officials - even Calcio Storico draws the line at head wounds - the puncher follows him outside to finish things.

I think the stands tilted just a bit as half the crowd moved to the railing on that side to watch. I wonder how you say, "Let's take this outside" in Italian...

If you're looking to understand the game a bit better - and in the context of the 2008 tournament, this is a great article from Sports Illustrated that certainly added to my understanding of the matches.

To sum up: two teams of rugged and very muscular Italian men have a certain amount of time to score goals. New rule: they can no longer be convicted criminals. They are boxers and rugby players and ringers brought in for their talents. On the pitch at anytime, there are men throwing the ball, chasing the ball, catching each other and trying to escape each others catches. Outside of the context of the competition - and perhaps even with the context - it all looks rather strange.

But, the experience as a whole was marvelous, a total gift on the first day of my return to the city.