Page 107 of My Italian Love Affair

Fans filter in, security yells across at them from where they’re stationed at every entrance, and the faint scent of greasy food carries through the air.

I don’t slow my pace.

With my chin high and shoulders back, I weave through the controlled chaos, my press badge attached securely to the bright lanyard around my neck.

The security guard at the media entrance barely spares me a glance before nodding me through.

Good- I’m getting familiar.

The first few times I walked into this stadium, I’d braced for the usual skepticism, the double-checking and the extrascrutiny; but now, I know exactly where I’m going.

I take the familiar route up to the press box, the stadium pulsing with life around me. A few journalists pass by. Some nod in recognition, but most of them are far too busy tapping away at their phones to notice anyone else.

Slipping into my usual seat, I pull out my laptop, plug in my charger, adjust my notes and start preparing my pre-match observations.

My predictions were already posted earlier this afternoon, and I know they’ve caused a lot of controversy from the comments I’ve received online.

Roma are up against a side that historically hasn’t been a real threat, but this season, they’ve been defying expectations. Their manager has spent the last few years investing heavily in their youth academy, bringing up a crop of hungry, fearless players who have slotted into the first team seamlessly; and while they may still be considered the underdogs, I’ve argued they’re the team to watch tonight.

Some fans think I’m underestimating Roma, while others insist I’m just trying to stir the pot.

But I’ve spent alotof time researching the sport over the last few weeks, and I’ve come to learn that football is unpredictable, and that momentum only carries a team so far.

I pointedly ignore Mark and his usual crew, who are all gathered around on one of the larger couches a few seats away. They’re all engaged in a loud discussion, and the predictably smug amusement that they’re chattering on with instantly raises my hackles.

“Honestly, what did she think was going to happen?” one of them scoffs, his voice carrying. “She was screwing the bossin his office. Did she think nobody would find out?”

“Poor thing,” another one mockingly sighs. “So young. So naïve.”

“It’s not about naivety, it’s aboutstupidity,” Mark chuckles. “When you sleep your way to the top, eventually, people notice.Especiallywhen you’re being offered promotions likethat.”

He clicks his fingers to emphasise the last word, and they all laugh, shaking their heads in faux disbelief.

I grit my teeth as I try to turn my attention back to my laptop screen.

Of coursethis is how they’re talking about her. An unknown female journalist gets caught in a scandal, and suddenly, she’s the punchline.

There’s no real mention of the man involved, though. No doubt he still has his job along with his reputation mostly intact.

Typical.

I take a slow breath and force my attention back to my work, refusing to bite and subsequently give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

*

Roma loses.

And not just by a little.

From the first whistle, it’s clear they’re off their game. Their usual sharpness is missing, their passes lack precision, and their movement feels sluggish compared to the hungry, determined opposition.

The underdogs are playing like they have something to prove, because theydo,and Roma just can’t keep up.

I wince as one of their midfielders loses possession of the ball yet again, practically gifting the opposition an easy counterattack that forces Roma’s defense into a desperate scramble.

They barely recover in time, but it’s only a matter of minutes before another mistake costs them.

Even Matteo, usually so composed, isn’t immune to the chaos.

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