In Focus
In Focus
In-depth conversations with the voices shaping culture, calcio, and society. Explore unique perspectives, personal stories, and inspiring journeys from around the world.
Independiente Chose Me
The late afternoon light spills across the streets of Avellaneda,
Discover the Unique Charm of Sir Victor Hotel in Barcelona
In the heart of Barcelona, steps away from Passeig de
The late afternoon light spills across the streets of Avellaneda, washing the red-and-white shopfronts in a warm glow. We’re sitting at a small café near Avenida Mitre, the kind of place where conversation hums and football talk never really stops. Across the table, photographer Lucio Cosenza stirs his coffee and smiles — the kind of smile that hints at stories tied to family, memory, and a lifelong love of Club Atlético Independiente.
“From the day I was born,” he says, almost matter-of-factly. “My membership card has the same date as my birth certificate. My dad is a die-hard fan too, and he passed it all on to me. I don’t have a single memory in my life without Independiente being part of it somehow.”
“Independiente isn’t just a club,” he says, his tone softening. “It’s something you inherit. A feeling passed down quietly from generation to generation. Its history is massive, full of glory, but what makes it truly unique is what it sparks in people. There’s something sacred in those colours, something that stays with you for life. You don’t choose to support Independiente. Independiente chooses you.”
It’s hard not to get swept up in his devotion. The way he speaks about his club feels almost spiritual, like a faith that you carry with you in everyday life. When matchday arrives, that faith becomes electric. “A home match is felt from the moment you wake up, heart racing, nerves building,” he says. “There’s something magical about the stadium, like the whole neighbourhood breathes football that day.”
And then there’s the derby, Independiente versus Racing Club, one of Argentina’s fiercest rivalries. “The derby against Racing… that’s not just a game,” Lucio says, eyes lighting up. “It’s pride, tension, passion — all mixed together. Everything else fades away. All that matters is Independiente. All that matters is winning.”
His favourite memories, though, aren’t necessarily about results or trophies. “My favourite memories are walking to the stadium with my grandad and my dad,” he recalls. “Those walks were more than just the journey to a match — they were a ritual, a story passed down through generations. Sometimes I can’t even remember the final score, but I’ll never forget those walks together.”
When the conversation turns to players, Lucio doesn’t hesitate. “If you say Independiente, you say Bochini,” he says with conviction. “You can’t think about the club without thinking of him. He played his whole career in our shirt. He won everything, but beyond the trophies, what he did with the ball was magic. He had that kind of class that made time stand still. It’s a love story between a player and his club — one that lasts a lifetime.”
As the café begins to fill with the evening crowd, the character of Buenos Aires becomes more apparent: its taxis, its laughter, and its ever-present talk of football surround us. Lucio looks out toward the street, where kids kick a battered ball against a wall painted red and white. “Football in Buenos Aires isn’t something you explain,” he says. “It’s something you live. People shape their lives around their club. Birthdays, weddings, plans — nothing matters more. Matchday is sacred. It’s pure passion. An emotional engine that brings people together, or tears them apart, but it’s always there.”
In Buenos Aires, football is like a heartbeat. And for Lucio Cosenza, that heartbeat will forever belong to Independiente.
All images and all our thanks to Lucio Consenza
“In the early ’90s, my dad took me to the Grünwalder Stadion for the first time,” Marco Watson says. “The atmosphere and energy of the compact and packed stadium really impressed me as a young boy. The fact that the stadium is right in the middle of the city also made the club especially interesting to me.”
It was there, in Giesing, that his life as a supporter began. The ground is not grand, not modern, not even especially comfortable. But its presence in the heart of the neighbourhood makes it inseparable from the everyday lives of those who live around it. For Watson, it became a place that would come to define not only his weekends but also his friendships and identity.
“My fascination with 1860 has never stopped since,” he says. “Over the years, not only have many friendships been formed, but also a true love, and everything to do with the club has become a kind of life’s purpose for me.”
A tradition that endures
He is not alone. 1860 Munich, known simply as die Löwen—the Lions—still command devotion across the city, despite decades of struggle and decline. “What’s special about TSV 1860 Munich is the incredible tradition in this club,” Watson explains. “The team was not only a founding member of the Bundesliga but also became German champion in 1966.”
But tradition is only part of the story. “On top of that, 1860 has a massive and incredibly dedicated fanbase. The club has basically gone through every imaginable success and failure for decades, yet it still has about 27,000 members. Every home game at the Grünwalder Stadion has been completely sold out for years, even though we only play in the 3. Liga.”
This is the paradox of 1860: the higher peaks belong to history, but the loyalty belongs to the present.
A stadium in the city
The connection is rooted in geography as much as memory. “The Grünwalder Stadion is located right in the Giesing district, making it super convenient to get to by bike, on foot, or with public transport,” Watson says. “There are lots of great places to eat and grab a drink around the stadium. When the Lions have a home game, the entire neighbourhood buzzes. And no matter if we win or lose, there’s always a celebration somewhere afterwards—it’s just about life and community.”
Here, matchdays are not contained within ninety minutes. They spill into the cafés, the beer gardens, the streets. To speak about 1860 Munich is also to speak about Giesing itself.
Days to remember
When Watson reflects on what stands out from his years as a supporter, he struggles to narrow it down. “Since I have so many great memories with the club, it’s hard for me to pick just one,” he admits. But he does recall the derbies. “All the derbies against the hated red neighbours from across the street. Back in the Bundesliga or a match between our amateur teams—you could always feel a special, electric atmosphere in the city for days beforehand.”
There was also the 2018 promotion, a moment that seemed to defy the decline of previous years. “Another highlight of my fan career was definitely the promotion from the Regionalliga to the 3. Liga in 2018. The whole season was like a single dream with many special away games in small villages somewhere in Bavaria. At the end, we had two incredibly exciting promotion playoff games against Saarbrücken, which were thrilling right up to the last minute.”
It was then that he experienced something he had imagined since childhood. “For the first time in my life, I got to run onto the sacred pitch at the Grünwalder Stadion, and after that, the entire Giesing district was literally ‘drunk dry’!”
A life’s purpose
Supporting 1860 Munich means living with contradiction: the pull of history against the push of the present, the joy of belonging against the disappointment of results. Yet for Watson, there is never doubt. “My fascination with 1860 has never stopped,” he says again, as if reminding himself. “Everything to do with the club has become a kind of life’s purpose for me.”
In Giesing, the stadium remains full. The streets remain alive. And for fans like Watson, 1860 Munich remains the centre of everything.
In the heart of Barcelona, steps away from Passeig de Gràcia and the iconic Casa Milà, Sir Victor Hotel offers a distinctive experience that blends contemporary design, cultural connection, and world-class hospitality.
As part of the Sircle Collection, Sir Victor reflects a commitment to integrating art, community, and thoughtful experiences, making it a standout destination for travellers and locals alike.
Van Martin, Marketing Manager for Sir Hotels in Spain, shares insights into what makes Sir Victor special. “Our goal is to create a warm, engaging atmosphere where every experience is memorable and deeply connected to Barcelona’s vibrant culture,” she explains.
With 91 beautifully designed rooms, a luxurious spa, a rooftop pool offering Mediterranean-inspired dining, and The Cover, a private members’ club, Sir Victor delivers more than a stay—it offers a gateway to the city’s energy and spirit.
Dining at Sir Victor is equally captivating. MR PORTER, the hotel’s chic steakhouse, combines refined dining with a lively lounge vibe, offering everything from rare cuts of steak to vegetarian dishes paired with inventive cocktails.
Meanwhile, The Rooftop provides breathtaking views of the city, complemented by fresh, locally inspired cuisine. “Whether it’s unwinding with cocktails or enjoying Tapas, Sir Victor captures the essence of Barcelona,” says Van.
Beyond its amenities, Sir Victor stands out by fostering connections to the city’s culture through curated events, art collections, and a commitment to sustainability. Van observes, “Travelers today seek real, local experiences and personalized stays. We respond by offering authentic interactions and wellness-focused options that resonate with guests on a deeper level.”
With its unbeatable location and curated Sir City Guide, Sir Victor ensures guests are well-equipped to explore the best of Barcelona, from iconic landmarks to hidden gems. Whether visiting for the vibrant local culture or a tranquil retreat, Sir Victor promises an experience that feels both luxurious and uniquely tied to the city.
Guests can expect a blend of luxury, culture, and contemporary design that reflects the values of the Sircle Collection. The rooms are bright and inviting, with some featuring balconies that offer stunning views of the city.
You can also relax at The Rooftop pool, rejuvenate in the spa, or enjoy delicious meals at the lively restaurant. Our goal is to create a warm, engaging atmosphere where every experience is memorable and deeply connected to Barcelona’s vibrant culture.
The Atlantic Dispatch sat down with Van Martin to learn more about what makes Sir Victor Hotel in Barcelona so unique, its dynamic cuisine, the changing trends in the hospitality industry, and why it should be on your list of places to stay in 2025.
“People are looking for real, local experiences more than ever. They want to connect with the place they’re visiting in meaningful ways and have more personalised stays.“
Born and raised in the picturesque seaside town of San Felice Circeo, Giulia Puspi’s story is one of passion, family, and big dreams. Although she still calls her small hometown home, she often feels its limits as she dreams of pursuing grander aspirations. Balancing work, family, and her love of football, Giulia has carved out a unique space for herself as a digital creator and Juventus supporter.
In this exclusive interview, Giulia shares how her father’s unwavering love for Juventus ignited her own lifelong passion for “la Vecchia Signora.” From cherished memories of Juventus’ nine years of dominance to her deep admiration for Alessandro Del Piero—whom she reverently describes as “not just a Juventus player, but Juventus itself”—her devotion to the club runs deep.
Giulia also opens up about her love for vintage fashion, particularly the iconic 2000 Juventus jersey, and how she incorporates Juve-inspired pieces into her casual, everyday style. For her, attending matches at the Juventus Stadium is more than just a sporting event; it’s a profound experience of belonging. She describes the joy of singing the anthem with fellow fans and the sense of home the stadium provides.
A passionate advocate for sharing her love of football with others, Giulia reveals how she has been connecting with fans for the past year, finding fulfillment in the camaraderie and support within the Juventus community. Outside of football, her days are filled with family, travel, and time spent at the gym—simple joys that ground her.
As a true optimist, Giulia reflects on the current challenges facing Juventus and her hopes for brighter days ahead. She remains steadfast in her belief in the team and its leadership, saying, “I just hope this darkness leads us to a brilliant light.”
Join us as we delve into Giulia’s journey, her unwavering support for Juventus, and her vision for the future, both as a digital creator and a devoted fan.
I was born and raised in a small seaside town, San Felice Circeo, where I still live today. However, I feel that this town is too small to hold the big dreams I have. Let’s just say I feel a bit confined. My life here revolves around work and family.
My love for football—and, by extension, for Juventus—comes from my father. A die-hard Juve fan and passionate supporter of “la Vecchia Signora,” he passed on all his enthusiasm to me from a young age.
My favorite memories are from the nine years of dominance Juventus enjoyed. I miss those times. I miss winning, the hunger Juventus had, and especially the fear we inspired in opposing teams whenever they faced the Bianconeri.
It’s never something I take for granted, and I love shouting it to the world: Alessandro Del Piero, to me, isn’t just a Juventus player—he is Juventus.
I love vintage, so my favorite jersey is from 2000. Typically, I like dressing casually, always wearing something Juve-related. I often pair it with a fuchsia cap and a scarf.
The stadium experience is truly beautiful. Beyond the stadium’s undeniable beauty, you genuinely feel at home when you step inside. My favorite moment is, without a doubt, when we all sing the anthem together.
I’ve been sharing my passion for just over a year now, and I love transmitting it to others—it’s a passion that isn’t mine alone. I enjoy the connection with other fans and especially appreciate their support.
I also love traveling and spending time with my nieces and nephews. A typical day for me, when I’m not at the stadium, is filled with work, family, and the gym.
I was very happy when he arrived, and I truly believed he could do well for Juve. To this day, I still can’t give a definitive opinion. I just hope this darkness leads us to a brilliant light. I still believe in the coach and hope he can find his balance here in Turin.
JU
In Focus
Filmmaker Jannik Schlüter dives into Bogotá’s football fever — and finds himself lost in a sea of blue, white, and pure emotion.
When filmmaker Jannik Schlüter made his way to Colombia, he expected passion, colour, and noise. What he didn’t expect was to be completely swallowed by it — deep in the heart of Bogotá, inside Estadio Nemesio Camacho El Campín, for a showdown between Millonarios and Atlético Nacional.
“Nemesio Camacho actually isn’t the biggest stadium in Colombia,” Jannik recalls, “but you don’t really feel that when you’re there. Instead, you feel the intensity in the stands because it’s such a dense atmosphere. You literally have to fight your way to secure a place — at least in the ‘standing area’. It’s seats, but nobody sits.”
There, among the smoke, the chants, and the chaos, he found himself swept into something far larger than football.
“Even there you’ll find old men, young women — something you cannot escape from. They handed me a flag to wave for the choreography, which even after explaining three times that I had to take photos, they insisted on giving me. Well… the first 45 minutes I didn’t see anything but flags in front of me.”
It was full immersion — a living, breathing theatre of devotion.
“Millonarios are from Bogotá, making them a big club per se. But it’s also one of the most successful teams in Colombia, especially with their past glory. So when Nacional — who took over a little ever since the ’90s — come to play against them, it’s like Madrid against Barcelona.”
That clash of history and pride defines the fixture.
“Millonarios, being from the capital, have a slightly more elitist fan scene — more middle class. It’s a lot about tradition and prestige — almost nostalgic.”
Bogotá itself mirrors that intensity — sprawling and unrelenting.
“Bogotá is such a big city. It takes you forever to cross from north to south with the train — yet still you find fans all over the place. Interestingly, going to the stadium, it didn’t even seem like there was a game going on… until suddenly, after the next corner, everything was full of blue and white.”
Everywhere he looked, football was pulsing through daily life.
“There’s not a single day where you can’t hear or see a TV showing some kind of football.”
His advice to anyone thinking about experiencing Colombian football?
“People should definitely go watch a game — maybe opt for the west or east stands since it can get hectic with the more fanatic fans. Also, there are beautiful jerseys all around!”
And if you have time, he says, don’t stop in Bogotá.
“I’d also recommend going to a game in Medellín if there’s a chance. It’s a very different stadium. Seeing Nacional or Independiente in Medellín is also worth it!”
Bogotá was a window into the soul of Colombia — a place where the flags never stop moving, where the songs never fade, and where football is not simply watched, but lived.
Our thanks to Jannik Schlüter
All images by Jannik
Latest
All words and images by Jonas Zöller
There’s something about Buenos Aires that pulls you in through its football. Every night seems to offer another game, another neighbourhood, another story. After two whirlwind matches across the city, I find myself heading west on a Monday evening — tired, sunburned, but completely hooked. This time it’s Vélez Sarsfield, a club that might not make international headlines, but in this city, every stadium tells its own tale.
When the third match in four days still feels like the first love of football.
Early Monday evening. Vélez Sarsfield. After the first two big ones, I’m excited for a game that probably isn’t on many European radars. To be honest, the third match in four days is starting to leave its marks. When my Uber driver asks who’s playing tonight, I just mumble something that roughly translates to “no idea.”
Still, I can’t wait. The area around the stadium is wide and full of murals and bars. As I arrive, the first buses pull up, blue and white flags waving from the windows. Accompanied by the first trumpet chants, I go looking for someone selling Fernet—and boy, I’m ready for football.
Finding Fernet and Football
After a couple of Fernet-Cokes in a small backyard bar—where I’m undoubtedly the palest guest of the season—I make my way to the stadium. It’s an absolute beauty: floodlights rising high above the blue outer shell. The belly of the ground leans against a highway, beneath which several five-a-side pitches are tucked away. The noise and movement around them blend perfectly with the energy that’s building inside the stadium.
Inside, hot dogs and drinks are sold, youth teams are playing near the narrow railing. The match isn’t sold out, but when the smoke from the pre-match fireworks catches in the floodlights, I feel it.
“This is exactly the kind of football I fell in love with.”
The curva is loud and cheerful, and the trumpet guy must have lungs of steel. Vélez turn the early deficit before halftime and end up winning 3–1.
Another Night, Another City
For the rest of the game, I just listen to the chants and feel a strange calm settle over me. The beer after the match tastes like a well-earned one after work, and right there I decide to stay another week in Buenos Aires.
I just need to see more football.
And to be fair, after all these stadium visits, I’ve somehow managed to completely skip seeing the city itself.
You can follow Jonas on social media by clicking here
Story and images, by Gregorio Gastaldi
Spain’s top flight loves its big headlines, Madrid’s glare, Barça’s grand gestures, Atleti’s grit. But look a little closer and you’ll find a club that’s been doing big things in a small town for years. Villarreal CF, tucked away in Castellón, continue to play like a heavyweight in a bantamweight’s suit. As of this week, they’re sitting 3rd in LaLiga, once again jabbing above their weight and smiling about it.
Founded in 1923, Villarreal spent decades wandering the lower leagues before bursting onto the scene around the turn of the century. Since then, the Yellow Submarine have turned persistence into a personality trait: European nights, smart recruitment, a stadium that hums, and a badge that somehow makes yellow feel like a superpower.
The Europa League crown in 2021 didn’t arrive by accident; neither did that Champions League semi-final run that made the continent pay attention. Villarreal’s trick is simple: trust the structure, back the coach, and build teams that look greater than the sum of their parts.
Speaking of parts — and parts that click — Estadio de la Cerámica remains one of Spain’s most distinctive stages. It’s compact, loud, and intensely local, the kind of ground where a one-goal lead feels like two once the crowd leans in. That intimacy mirrors the town itself: a community project masquerading as a European regular.
And the schedule doesn’t let up. Tonight, Villarreal head to Cyprus to face Pafos in the Champions League league phase — a trip that says everything about where this club lives now: on airplanes, on prime-time kickoffs, on those European midweeks they once only dreamed about. The tie’s set for Alphamega Stadium in Limassol; another chance to prove that the Submarine travels well.
If you’re looking for a neat storyline, Villarreal keep handing them out: a provincial club that plans like a giant, recruits like a spreadsheet whisperer, and keeps turning “nice little club” into “nasty little away day.” Third in the table, passports stamped, and that same old yellow glow. The Submarine doesn’t make waves with noise — it does it with results. And lately, there have been plenty of those.
Story and images, by Gregorio Gastaldi
Words and images by Gonzalo Alfaro
Family, food, and football in the heart of Emilia-Romagna.
On an autumn Sunday afternoon, I made my way to Parma’s home game — a pilgrimage of sorts to one of Italy’s most understated football cities. Parma isn’t loud or chaotic; it’s calm, graceful, and steeped in history. Yet beneath that quiet surface lies a football culture full of pride, resilience, and devotion.
The best way to sum up a matchday in Parma is through your first impressions as soon as you arrive in the stadium area: families, a quiet neighbourhood embracing the Tardini, and a huge street closed off as fans arrive, with a roundabout connecting all the roads leading to the stadium arch.
When it comes to atmosphere, this is where you begin to see a half-hidden side of Parma beneath its traditional façade. Non-stop chants, flags waving all match long, and above all, a proud curva filled with tifosi who look out for their own.
Parma is, hands down, one of the biggest cult-classic teams of the ’90s. Despite not being a big club, it made serious history — winning not only domestically (’91–’92 and ’98–’99) but also in Europe (’92–’93, ’93, ’94–’95, and ’98–’99) — with a star-studded team built not just through big signings but by creating stars. Buffon, Thuram, Cannavaro, Verón, Crespo, Chiesa, Dino Baggio, and Asprilla are names worthy of carrying on your back with pride — especially if it’s from the team where they first made their mark.
The first thing you hear about Parma is the food. Parmigiano Reggiano is the obvious star, but the city’s identity goes far beyond that. Cold cuts like Prosciutto di Parma and a long tradition of food science — the city hosts the European Food Safety Authority — have shaped its global reputation. Beyond food, Parma’s cultural life spans theatre, music, puppetry, literature, and year-round festivals. Cross the river to Oltretorrente and you’ll find a more rebellious soul, tied to the partigiani and the city’s barricade history — books, wine, and countercultural spaces. Parma blends tradition and contrast: city life and the rural rhythms of the Po Valley, university students and bohemian currents — slow, quiet, and full of stories.
Exploring the city and speaking with locals, you can tell that, despite not being the noisiest fan base, Parma is filled with stories of strong, deep connections between the club, its staff, and its players. I heard stories from people my age who, as children, would knock on Crespo’s door just to say hello to their idol; fans who know exactly where to find Asprilla whenever he returns to visit old friends; and older tifosi who still insist they’ve never seen a foot like Verón’s on the pitch again.
For a club that’s been rattled by financial troubles, the idea of that glorious 1990s era gives fans hope — hope for a brighter future ahead.
All Words and images by Gonzalo Alfaro
Founded back in 1904, the story of its name alone is a perfect slice of Argentine football myth-making. Some say it came from an earthquake that hit Atlanta, Georgia. Others claim it was borrowed from a U.S. Navy ship that docked in Buenos Aires the same year. Either way, what began as a group of friends in the capital would become one of Argentina’s most beloved, wandering institutions.
The club’s iconic yellow and blue came straight from the striped awnings of Villa Crespo’s old shops — bright, proud, unmistakable. And that sense of colour, of character, has never left Atlanta since. Their first pitch was in Villa Luro, but the club rarely stayed put for long. They bounced from ground to ground, pitch to pitch — earning them the nickname that’s still sung proudly today: Los Bohemios.
From those early years, Atlanta’s story has been full of charm, chaos, and character. In 1907, they won their first title — the third division championship — thrashing Gimnasia y Esgrima 4–1 and, most famously, beating Independiente 21–1. Yes, twenty-one. A scoreline that still lives in Argentine football folklore. By 1908, they’d already won the Copa Bullrich, their first national cup, and cemented themselves as one of the country’s up-and-coming clubs.
Over the decades, Atlanta have lived a life of promotion, relegation, and resurrection. Titles in 1956, 1983, 1995, and 2011 tell the story of a team that has never stopped fighting its way back. Their home — the Estadio Don León Kolbovsky — is an icon of Villa Crespo. Once made of wood and affectionately dubbed El Monumental de Madera (The Wooden Monumental), it stands as a living piece of Buenos Aires football history.
Of course, no Buenos Aires club story is complete without a rivalry, and for Atlanta, it’s one of the fiercest: Chacarita Juniors. The two clubs were neighbours once upon a time, separated by little more than a few streets, and though Chacarita moved away decades ago, the animosity never did. When Atlanta play Chaca, it’s more than a match — it’s a street war written in chants and memories.
But the beauty of Atlanta goes beyond the pitch. The club’s home in Villa Crespo has long been tied to the Jewish community, and Atlanta has always been a reflection of that cultural mix — inclusive, diverse, and proudly local. The stands are filled with families, lifelong fans, and old-timers who’ve seen it all. There’s a sense of belonging that goes far beyond results.
And then there’s Napoleón, the dog. A legend in his own right. Adopted by players in the 1930s, he became Atlanta’s lucky charm — performing tricks before matches, barking at rivals, and following every ball that rolled across the pitch. When he died in 1938, newspapers wrote obituaries. His story, like Atlanta’s, lives on — quirky, passionate, unforgettable.
Today, Atlanta continues to fight in the Primera Nacional, Argentina’s second division. The results come and go, but the spirit of Los Bohemios endures. Their fans don’t just follow a club — they carry a story, a neighbourhood, a way of life.
All images by the excellent Dincolodestadion
You can follow them on YouTube
The Speed Sock has been created by Ivy Ellis, and we are honoured to partner with them and @calmzone on a cause that’s deeply close to our hearts.
Through this collaboration, Ivy Ellis continues their incredible work in raising awareness around suicide prevention and mental health within the football community — and together, we hope to keep that conversation alive.
100% of profits from the Speed Sock collection will be donated to CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably), supporting their mission to stand against suicide and help anyone who feels hopeless or alone.
The three socks are available now at ivy-ellis.co.uk and pay tribute to Gary Speed and his time playing for Leeds United, Newcastle United, and, of course, Wales.
Learn more about prevention against suicide at 11speed.org.uk.
The Legacy of Gary Speed
There are footballers you respect — and then there are footballers you feel you know, even if you only ever saw them from the terraces. Gary Speed was very much in the second category for so many of us.
From Flintshire to Football Fame
Imagine a lad from Mancot, Flintshire — working as a paperboy, playing school football, just a kid with a simple dream: to play the game he loved. And then, unbelievably, he lives it.
He became the kind of footballer who meant something. Dependable. Tireless. Humble. The kind of player you’d always want on your team.
A Career of Consistency and Class
Gary won the old First Division title with Leeds United in 1992, just before the Premier League began. He went on to make an incredible 841 senior club appearances in a career that spanned more than two decades.
He earned 85 caps for Wales and was one of the first men in the Premier League to reach 500 appearances.
Those numbers aren’t just statistics — they tell the story of a man who turned up, week after week, season after season, ready to give everything he had. In an age of big money and bigger egos, Gary Speed kept his head down and his game high.
The Heartbeat of Every Team
What made Gary truly special wasn’t just what he achieved, but how he went about it. Wherever he played — Leeds, Everton, Newcastle, Bolton, or Sheffield United — he did the hard yards.
He was the heartbeat of every side he represented, timing his runs perfectly, defending when he had to, attacking when it mattered, and leading by example. He wasn’t the loudest man in the dressing room, but he was often the one everyone listened to.
Leadership Beyond the Pitch
Off the pitch, he was exactly the same. He treated everyone — fans, young players, staff — with quiet respect. There was no arrogance, no ego. Just a man who loved football and carried himself with decency.
When he took on the role of Wales manager, it felt like everything had come full circle. He loved his country, and his vision for Welsh football was clear — he was building something bigger than himself, instilling belief, professionalism, and a sense of pride that laid the foundations for the success that followed.
The Man Everyone Loved
Former teammate Chris Coleman once said:
“I was just drawn to him. The bond had been made. We had that sense of excitement — maybe we’ll be lucky enough to have a career in football.”
And Gordon Strachan, who knew him as a teenager at Leeds, said:
“When I first knew him, he was 17 and ordinary. He made himself a top player. My wife Lesley loved him too.”
That’s the thing about Gary Speed — people didn’t just respect him; they loved him.
Professionalism, Passion, Humility
His story is full of moments that stay with you. A young midfielder, barely 21, helping Leeds United lift the title. The roar of St James’ Park when he wore Newcastle black and white. The pride of standing on the touchline as Wales manager, shaping a team in his image.
Each chapter of his career told the same story: professionalism, passion, and humility.
Gary once said:
“I had a lot of times with Wales when we were getting beaten — and beaten well — and you learn to deal with it. You learn that next time it happens, you roll your sleeves up and give everything for the team.”
That quote sums him up perfectly. No excuses. No self-pity. Just quiet determination.
Remembering Gary
His death at 42 was devastating. The outpouring of emotion from teammates, fans, and even players he’d never met said everything about the man.
But when we think of Gary Speed, we shouldn’t only think of the tragedy. We should remember him in his prime — sleeves rolled up, head held high, giving everything for the badge on his shirt.
If we had to describe him in one sentence, it would be this:
Gary Speed was someone whose presence made everything around him better — his teams, is country, and his sport.
He didn’t shout about it; he lived it. And because of that, he’ll always matter.
A Reminder to Keep Talking
As much as Gary’s story inspires, it also reminds us that we never truly know what someone else might be going through. Behind the smiles, the professionalism, the strength — there can be struggles we don’t see.
That’s why it’s so important to keep talking, keep checking in, and keep reminding one another that it’s okay to ask for help.
This piece is written in partnership with Ivy Ellis and CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably) — a leading movement against suicide that stands up against feeling hopeless, isolated, or alone.
CALM runs a free, confidential helpline and webchat, open every day from 5pm to midnight, offering support to anyone who needs to talk.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you can reach CALM at 0800 58 58 58 or visit thecalmzone.net for more information.
Because if Gary’s life and legacy have taught us anything, it’s this:
Strength isn’t about staying silent — it’s about speaking up, reaching out, and knowing that help is always there.
Please support this incredible campaign by Ivy Ellis by visiting here
Words and images by Euan McKechnie
What began as a hungover pilgrimage to Dortmund’s famous Westfalenstadion turned into something far more unexpected — a spontaneous detour into the heart of lower-league German football. From Düsseldorf rain to Duisburg’s delirium, this is a story about how the beautiful game has a funny way of finding you.
A Rough Morning in Düsseldorf
The head is nipping, and the grogginess is real. Any hopes of our jaunt abroad offering better weather than we’re used to in the west of Scotland are dashed as rain drums steadily against the tiny balcony of our “city view apartment”.
We’re in Düsseldorf, just east of the Rhine, and it’s the city’s traditional altbiers — those dark, malty lagers that flow endlessly through its brauhauses — that have left us feeling somewhat fragile.
If you’re into your football, especially the German kind, this is a dream of a location. Every time you pinch to zoom out on the map, another familiar football city pops up. Düsseldorf is football-mad, Köln is just a stone’s throw away, and to get there you have to pass through Leverkusen. But our destination lies further east: Dortmund.
We’re finally making the pilgrimage to the Westfalenstadion to soak in the atmosphere — and a few cold German biers while we’re at it. Though, as it turned out, our route there grew arms and legs.
“It felt like a divine German footballing force was guiding us through Nordrhein-Westfalen.”
The Recovery Mission
Once we’ve rallied — a few paracetamol, some Gaviscon, and the hydrating goodness of Dioralyte consumed — we head for the train. It’s immediately clear we’re not firing on all cylinders. By the time we round the corner from the hotel, we realise we’re likely to arrive in Dortmund six hours before kick-off.
Not the worst problem if you want to make the most of matchday, so we press on. We grab pizza from a station bakery and a few Wegbiers for the journey. Shortly after, the beers are cracked, spirits are lifted, and we’re en route to Dortmund.
The Mystery of Duisburg
As the stops on our journey scroll across the screen, one name jumps out — Duisburg. Roughly halfway between Düsseldorf and Dortmund, it’s not a place I’d heard of until about four years ago.
Back then, the man sitting beside me texted to ask if the postie had been yet. A day later, a parcel arrived — one of those mystery football shirt boxes. Inside was a blue and white hooped shirt by a manufacturer I’d never heard of, with a crest I didn’t recognise.
It turned out to be the 2021/22 home shirt of MSV Duisburg. A quick dive into Wikipedia revealed that Die Zebras, as they’re affectionately known for their striped kits, were one of the founding members of the Bundesliga — now languishing in Germany’s fourth tier.
“Off the train at Duisburg, it felt like a football fever dream.”
A Footballing Coincidence
We’re so early that we start wondering about hopping off for a look around. A quick check of the fixtures reveals something extraordinary — Duisburg are playing today, at home, with an early kick-off.
Moments before the train stops, we make a snap decision: we’re doing it. We’ve got hours to kill, and it’s far too perfect a coincidence to ignore.
Off the train at Duisburg, it feels surreal. We’re suddenly surrounded by fans in the same shirt that once arrived unannounced through my letterbox. The city is buzzing. It turns out Die Zebras have just wrapped up the Regionalliga West title, and this is their final home game before a return to 3. Liga. The streets are alive with celebration.
From Dortmund Dreams to Duisburg Reality
Today was supposed to be about Dortmund and the Westfalenstadion, but fate had other ideas. We’re now striding through a city most people back home haven’t heard of, buzzing for a match we didn’t even know was happening an hour ago.
I queue at the club shop to grab a pin badge — a must, obviously — while my cousin heads off to see if we can get tickets. Ten minutes later, he reappears with two in hand. Sorted.
A couple of plastic cups of lager from a kiosk later, and we’re on our way to the Ost Tribune of the Schauinsland-Reisen-Arena. As we’re about to head inside, a chorus of chanting rises behind us. A group of away fans are being escorted by police. Oddly, we think kick-off is in fifteen minutes — it’s actually in one hour and fifteen.
Those Düsseldorf altbiers clearly hadn’t finished with us.
The Matchday Magic
We’d planned to stay for half the match before catching the train to Dortmund, but even the first fifteen minutes feels like a bonus. The atmosphere is too good to miss.
A few laps of the ground and a few more crisp lagers later, kick-off is upon us. As the teams walk out, a giant tifo unfurls across the Nordkurve:
“We are the fans of MSV. We give everything for our club.”
It’s an incredible sight — flags waving, smoke drifting, and an energy that feels far bigger than fourth-tier football.
We watch a fairly uneventful quarter-hour of football before slipping out to catch our train, the buzz of the day completely unspoiled.
A Divine Detour
Hours later, outside the Westfalenstadion, I check the score — Duisburg have won 3–0. Instagram is filled with scenes of wild celebration at the Rathaus, tens of thousands of fans watching their heroes lift the trophy.
Football is a mad thing. Somewhere, a random person in a warehouse once threw a large Duisburg shirt into a mystery box, unknowingly setting off one of the strangest football adventures I’ll ever have.
From following Die Zebras on FlashScore to loosely tracking their progress, I’d always thought it might be a fun trip to make one day. But the logistics, the effort — they always got in the way.
That day, though, it felt as if some unseen German footballing force was guiding us through Nordrhein-Westfalen. Now, I’ve been there, done that — and owned the T-shirt for quite a while.
Words and images by Euan McKechnie.
Follow Euan on Instagram here
