Page 233 of My Italian Love Affair

I smile to myself as I type out a quick response.

On my way. Don't panic, Rossi - I'll be there to watch you lift the trophy.

I don’t have to wait long for his response.

Damn right you will.

I smile to myself, cheeks warming as I tuck my phone into my bag.

God, I’ve got it bad.

*

The train pulls into Milan Centrale just after 11 a.m., and I navigate the chaotic station with practiced efficiency. A taxi whisks me through the city streets, weaving past tourists and stylish locals who barely blink as the car darts through intersections.

When we pass the towering San Siro Stadium, my heart rate kicks up. The sheer size of the structure is imposing enough, but the energy crackling in the air is even more palpable.

Banners with the Roma and Milan logos hang from lamp posts. Fans are already congregating near the gates, their jerseys a blur of red, gold, and black as they sing and chant despite the heat.

The taxi drops me at the hotel where the press conferences are being held. I collect my credentials from the media desk and slip the lanyard over my head, adjusting the laminated card until it rests flat against my chest.

Daphne Sinclair

The Tribune

Accredited Journalist – Serie A League Final

I can’t help but grin.

This is it. The big leagues.

*

The pre-match press conference is a tense, polished affair, with reporters from all over Europe squeezed into the hotel ballroom.

Milan’s manager speaks first, deflecting questions about their recent inconsistent performances with a strained smile.

And when Roma’s manager, Carlo Ricci, steps up to the podium, the mood in the room shifts.

Ricci is a legend in Italian football - stoic, sharp-witted and with a tactical mind that has earned him a reputation as one of the most respected figures in the sport. He answers the first few questions with practiced patience, occasionally glancing toward the media coordinator at his side for the odd translation.

I sit near the middle of the room, my notepad balanced on my knee.

When the media coordinator finally nods in my direction, signaling that it’s my turn, I feel my pulse spike.

"Mr. Ricci," I begin, voice clear despite the nervous flutter in my stomach, "how do you think your team’s ability to maintain possession will fare against Milan's high press?"

Ricci's gaze lands on me.

His expression remains unreadable for a moment, but then his lips twitch into the faintest of smiles.

"Good question," he says, leaning forward slightly. "Possession has been one of our strengths this season, but Milan presses aggressively, and we are in their city now. But we've worked on our transition play this week, and if we can stay composed under pressure, I think we'll be able to dictate the tempo."

He pauses, then adds with a wry smile, "hopefully, anyway. Otherwise, we'll just have to rely on Rossi to score a hat-trick."

Laughter ripples through the room, and I grin and jot down his answer.

When the press conference ends, Ricci steps down from the podium.

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