Pescara – Ternana, the Serie C playoff final 2024/2025 will remain an unforgettable evening, and not only in the hearts of the people of Pescara.
All words and images: Imma Rhamely Borrelli
“I join them enthusiastically, aware that I have witnessed a historic evening — a great fortune.”
I arrive in Pescara late in the morning. The bus journey is pleasant — I have time to read, but also to catch up on some sleep ahead of the intense day that awaits me. At the bus station, there are already a few groups of young people wearing white and blue shirts, flip-flops on their feet, heading towards the sea, both on foot and by bike. Two drivers greet each other, asking if they are ready for the evening. There is a certain happiness in the air.
The afternoon is hot — very hot. My first stop takes me to the sea as well; after all, I also belong to a seaside town, and I’m not afraid of the sense of freedom that the blue horizon offers. I watch the bathers, free from backpacks and equipment that always feels too heavy, especially on a day like this. I touch the golden sand only with my shoes and remain rooted in reality.
It feels like the prelude to a party.
I wander through the streets of the city centre, where everything seems to flow calmly and routinely. Instead of weighing people down, the summer heat seems to fuel their energy. Even the headlines displayed outside newsstands shout and invite everyone to join the dream: “Pescariamoci!”
There is a precise moment when I sense that the flow is beginning to move towards the stadium, so I set off. A few hours before the start of what will be a historic evening for the city, the people of the sea are already on their way. My impression is not wrong — cars race along with horns blaring and flags waving, and some people are already singing from their balconies.
Outside the stadium, it feels like the prelude to a party. Crowds gather at the stalls selling flags and scarves, eager to buy a souvenir and show their love in the stands. The surrounding bars are very busy, even if not yet packed.
I walk around the entire stadium and take my time looking at the murals, graffiti, and stickers of the home ultras and those of the away fans. The walls tell stories of historic rivalries and are part of the culture of fandom that I am discovering with interest as I delve deeper into this world.
Trying to take the atmosphere home with me
When I return to the stadium, the scene is completely different: happiness has given way to adrenaline and contagious energy. The arrosticini vendors now have long queues, and the number of sandwich trucks has tripled. A beer feels necessary at the only bar that still has a couple of seats available. The heat is hellish, and the crowd outside stretches all the way to the bar counter; even leaving becomes a challenge.
Outside, it is absolute pandemonium. The atmosphere before a match is contagious — even for those who don’t usually enjoy this kind of event. Imagine what it’s like on a historic night like this! Smoke bombs, flags, and beer splashing everywhere. A procession bursts into the crowded street, heading towards the entrance to the stands. The pavements are littered with empty beer bottles. I take photos like mad — with my camera, but above all with my eyes — trying to absorb every moment, trying to take the atmosphere home with me.
The entrance to the stadium is the usual chaos of wrong directions — this way, no, that way — but once inside, everything is as it should be.
Every stadium is a sacred place for me. Attending such important events makes it even more thrilling. I feel grateful and happy to be here. It’s a feeling that perhaps only places and events like this can give, and one that is difficult to explain to those who don’t understand. But then — why do I have to explain it?
A Night to Remember
An estimated 20,000 spectators are at the Adriatico Stadium tonight. I don’t clearly remember the moments leading up to kick-off, but I do remember a scene of a pink sky, coloured by the last rays of sunset — and by the smoke from the flares — behind the home crowd singing their hearts out. It is immense, crowded, and against the backdrop of that sky, an aeroplane flies overhead. I wonder what the passengers up there can see.
A shower of smoke bombs, chants and applause, scarves waving, and non-stop cheering in every section — especially in the curva, which makes an exceptional showing at the end of one of the most exciting seasons in recent memory for the people of Pescara.
After 120 minutes of battle, the final result is decided by penalty kicks — always a moment of great tension. A line of stewards positions itself in front of the entire curva. In the eyes of the media, the hero of the evening is Alessandro Plizzari, Pescara’s goalkeeper, who remains steadfast despite an injury sustained during the second half of extra time. His three decisive saves give Serie B to Pescara’s biancazzurri, triggering an explosion of joy that is impossible to contain — and, I admit, impossible to describe without cliché.
Beyond the Pitch
The celebrations on the pitch steal a little attention away from the fans, who, in my opinion, are — and remain — the absolute protagonists, especially in the context of modern football. Reports of the evening, framed in terms of social media moments and television ratings, mention less the beauty and sheer magnitude of support, especially from the stands, aside from a few viral videos.
So, hurrah for the trophy raised to the sky, the showers of confetti, the management celebrating, and the players stripped bare in generosity as they give away their shirts. But the real party is now outside the stadium. It belongs to the fans — even the occasional ones — but above all to the ultras, the banned, the ever-present, pouring into the streets for a long night of joy and sweat.
I join them enthusiastically, aware that I have witnessed a historic evening — a great fortune.
All words and images: Imma Rhamely Borrelli
