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In-depth conversations with the voices shaping culture, calcio, and society. Explore unique perspectives, personal stories, and inspiring journeys from around the world.
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Words and Images: Joey Corlett
From Middle of the Road to Champions
Watching on from Europe in May 2025, as Club Atlético Platense finished sixth in Group B of the Apertura season, it wouldn’t have been shocking to miss the news in Argentina — let alone anywhere else in the world.
They ended the group stage with a record of six wins, five draws and five losses — about as middle of the road as you can get — yet into the knockout rounds they went all the same. By finishing lower in the table, they were burdened with the pressure of playing away from home, without the support of their fans in the stands.
Despite that disadvantage, they produced a remarkable run, defeating three of Los Cinco Grandes — Racing Club, River Plate and San Lorenzo — all in their own backyards, to set up a historic opportunity: their first-ever Primera División title.
They headed north to the province of Santiago del Estero for the showpiece final against Huracán. In a nail-biting contest, they snatched a 1–0 victory to become Apertura champions.
A Decade of Transformation
Just ten years earlier, Platense had been battling in the metropolitan third tier of Argentine football and only returned to the top division in 2021.
Seeing them put together such a grand run and celebrate with an open-top bus parade through their barrio felt incredibly heartwarming in this era of predictable winners and expectation-driven modern football.
However, fast forward a few months, and I arrived in Buenos Aires. Their title-winning managerial duo had left the club, and they sat bottom of Group B in the Clausura campaign with just two wins in fifteen games.
With the league phase of the Clausura coming to an end — and hopes of reaching the knockouts long gone — I made it a priority to visit the Estadio Ciudad de Vicente López.
One Last Chance
The fixture list offered one final opportunity: the closing match of their dismal run, with Gimnasia de La Plata visiting. Gimnasia themselves weren’t certain of a knockout place, with five teams separated by just three points.
Linking up with Amos Murphy, we hopped into a taxi and headed north. Platense’s home ground is located in the neighbourhood of Florida, right on the northern border where the capital ends and the greater Buenos Aires province begins. Situated alongside one of the main motorways out of the city, we arrived quickly.
A Quieter Corner of Buenos Aires
It was immediately noticeable that this was a quieter, more residential part of town.
Wandering towards the ground, there was a calm atmosphere as we searched for refreshments. We stumbled upon a large group of fans preparing for the evening — trumpets in hand, drums resting at their feet. They were curious about where we were from, made sure we were okay getting tickets and warmly welcomed us. A brief but lovely encounter.
We grabbed refreshments from a corner shop called The Martini’s, draped in brown and white flags. With a busy grill out front and fans snacking on choripán, it did the job perfectly for us. Two cans of Schneider before kick-off.
Welcome to the Home of the Champions
Following the waves of fans over the bridge, we could hear the barra brava already in position. The beautiful musical noise spilled back out of the stadium — the perfect appetiser.
We collected our tickets from a classic little window in the wall, handing over pesos for two paper stubs slid back to us. A small ritual you don’t experience much anymore.
Passing through police and ID checks, the man tearing tickets smiled:
“Where are you guys from?”
When we answered, he ripped the tops of our tickets and simply said:
“Welcome.”
Two gringos were welcome in Platense.
Underneath the popular terrace, we looked out over the green turf. The advertising boards and scoreboard both displayed the message:
“Bienvenidos a la Casa del Campeón.”
(Welcome to the Home of the Champions.)
After a few rounds of chants, we tuned in more closely to the barra brava.
“Are they singing about calamari?”
Yes. Yes, they were.
El Calamar
Platense picked up their nickname back in 1908. Their pitch at the time was close to a river and prone to flooding. Uruguayan journalist Antonio Palacio Zino wrote that the team played its best matches on muddy fields:
“Are they going to play against Platense? In the rain and mud? Then we already know who will win! Platense, in the mud, are like squid in their ink!”
And so, they became El Calamar.
Sunset and Defeat
Despite relentless effort on the terraces — one fan in front of us spent the entire match perched atop the crush barrier, seemingly with calf muscles of steel — the match itself didn’t live up to its side of the bargain.
Both sides struggled for control, but Gimnasia capitalised on Platense’s mistakes. The home goalkeeper failed to claim a simple cross, and Manuel Panaro nodded home after just 20 minutes, setting the tone.
We were treated to one of the best sunsets of my month in the Argentine capital — a stunning backdrop in stark contrast to the lack of quality on the pitch.
The visitors added two more without reply.
As the third went in, right in front of us, one Platense fan turned, wincing, head in his hands:
“This team is horrible.”
Yet when the final whistle blew, contradictions defined the night. That same fan was singing his team off as:
“¡Campeón!”
From the Neighbourhood to the Continent
We watched as banners were taken down — perhaps for the last time as reigning champions — before heading out to finish the night with cervezas and milanesas in a local spot. The perfect way to round off a Monday night in Buenos Aires.
Thanks to their Apertura heroics, El Calamar will play Copa Libertadores football, with “Del Barrio al Continente” (From the Neighbourhood to the Continent) currently emblazoned across the stadium.
After a disastrous Clausura campaign, a fascinating South American adventure awaits.
For one final match, Platense were champions — and they took every second of that last opportunity to celebrate it.
If you get the chance, head north and experience this authentic slice of Buenos Aires football.
Words and Images: Joey Corlett
For Kate Carter-Larg, the Cheesy Toast Shack is a story of love, risk, hustling, triumph, tribulations, early mornings and late nights. It represents a dream that was worth putting everything on the line for. “We’d put all our savings into it, so failing was not an option,” Kate explains. “We hustled, we worked every day, we went to every event that was viable for us. We didn’t take on any staff until we were a few years in, we posted on social media every day, multiple times a day, and we shouted about our business and made people listen.”
Born in Dorset, in the South of England, the adventure of a lifetime would begin for Kate when she found herself travelling to Bali, in South East Asia. It was there she would meet Sam, her future husband and business partner.
“After a fleeting holiday romance, where we never thought we’d see each other again, he followed me down to Brighton (where I was living at the time). He decided he couldn’t live down there (distinct lack of surf) so got me to visit him in Scotland. I fell in love with it straight away, and pretty much decided to just not leave.
We had another year of travelling around a bit, including heading back to Bali to spend a few months of more beaches and surfing, before heading back to Scotland together with the idea of starting our own business.”
With only a small amount of savings between them, they knew that any kind of fixed cafe would be out of the question. “It just seemed so obvious, everyone loves a toastie, but not some dry, thin crappy Costa-style one. Instead, we wanted to do big, filthy, oozing with cheese-level toasties, with fillings that you don’t get just anywhere.”
With that idea, the wheels were set in motion. Scared, but with an unrelenting desire and determination to succeed, Kate and Sam put their life savings into everything and set off in search of their dream.
That dream would become a reality and take them all across the UK, to events, festivals and Glastonbury. They would be crowned Street Vendor of the Year, and earn the accolade of Scottish Street
Finalist. They would establish two sites, receiving visitors from all over the globe and go viral across social media. Renowned food critic, Jay Rayner, would give his seal of approval. Celebrities would come far and wide to taste their manchego with chorizo, red pepper and jalapeno chutney, or delight in their New Yorker made with sliced Swiss, pastrami, American mustard and sauerkraut. It would become a place that is now part of the family, with Kate, Sam and their two wonderful children.
It is a story that not even in her wildest of dreams could she have imagined. But it all happened. It really did. And it was a pleasure to sit down with Kate and talk about the journey she’s been on, her biggest challenges, being her own biggest critic and her proudest achievements.
We knew we wanted to be self-employed…we understood it’d be high risk and high stress, but we wanted to have a lifestyle where we could spend time together, and not have to answer to anyone else (we’ve always been quite headstrong and neither of us like being told what to do by someone else!)
We only had a small amount of savings between us, so we knew any kind of fixed cafe etc would be out of the question, so that immediately put us in the market for a food trailer. We just jumped on Gumtree and found a practically new trailer near Glasgow. A guy had bought it and then decided to not bother pursuing his burger van career, so we grabbed it and towed it back over to Fife.
We’d been looking at what was available street food-wise in Scotland, and the scene was starting to blow up. So many great options and traders, but no cheese toasties! It just seemed so obvious, everyone loves a toastie, but not some dry, thin crappy Costa-style one. Instead, we wanted to do big, filthy, oozing with cheese-level toasties, with fillings that you don’t get just anywhere.
Sam and I worked on the trailer, whilst getting everything else set up, and within a couple of months, we were good to go. We secured a pitch at a local beach and then would tow the trailer to events all over Scotland in between working Kingsbarns beach, to get the word out there about our brand and our business.
This did us wonders, as within our first year of trading we managed to secure a pitch at The Edinburgh Fringe Festival, where we got named the Best Place To Eat at The Fringe by The Scotsman newspaper.
Off the back of the popularity we experienced from being at such a huge event, we were in a position to apply for a pitch at the next Glastonbury Festival in Somerset. After doing this, our following took a massive jump, and we found we had people reaching out to us from all over the UK, saying they’d tried us and couldn’t stop thinking about our toasties.
During this time we were also doing every other event: street food markets, food competitions, music festivals, weddings….anything we could get our hands on. This eventually led to us then being offered the lease on our now main hub, in St Andrews. So at this point, we had our Kingsbarns pitch, our St Andrews kiosk, as well as multiple street food setups, allowing us to have 5 pitches across the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for the years running up to Covid, making us the biggest independent traders across the city for the Fringe.
Covid was a huge challenge at first. There were grants for some hospitality businesses, however, because we sublet our kiosk we didn’t pay rates, and we weren’t entitled to the first few rounds of grants. So trying to keep our heads above water really was a challenge, bearing in mind we had staff to think about, and at that stage, a 1 year old as well.
As initial lockdown measures eased, we were able to open up shop again, and thankfully, the rules dictated by the Scottish Government just so happened to mean we didn’t need to change much about our operational setup. We were always a takeout unit, from a hatch. We just needed to work with fewer staff on shift at once to keep numbers down, but it was good for us that people were allowed to go for a walk and meet a friend outdoors, as that matched the description of what people did anyway when they’d come to one of our beaches.
It did, however, have a massive impact on the events industry, meaning it was the first time since we started that we weren’t doing any street food at all, or weddings. This obviously meant the income of the business took a massive hit, which was certainly a negative. However, in hindsight, it made us re-evaluate how lucky we were to still have the pitches we were able to trade from.
When the grants that we did qualify for eventually came out, we used that money to invest in the business, by upgrading our equipment. We bought a decent coffee machine, a soft-serve ice cream machine, and high-quality grills. We felt if we could get our products out at a much faster speed and even better quality, then we were utilising what we could, given the restrictions put upon us by the pandemic. And just to make things that little bit extra stressful, we decided it was a good time to have our second baby.
Our biggest achievement would have to be the Glastonbury Festival. We loaded up our campervan and towed our trailer all the way from Scotland. We were located at Worthy View which is the “posh” campsite at the top of the farm, with the pre-erected tents (not that we were allowed to stay in those).
We were only allowed the bare minimum of staff passes (the cost of a ticket per staff member is factored into your pitch fee so we couldn’t afford many). We got a few friends to come down with us to work, thinking we’d get to spend a decent chunk of the festival watching music and enjoying the festival…how wrong we were! We were mobbed from the minute we opened the hatch in the morning, doing breakfast toasties to the hungover masses, all the way through the day, with a small window where it quietened off when the headlining acts were on, and then went crazy busy again through to the early hours. We came back to Scotland exhausted but with an amazing feeling of pride and achievement.
Another of those pinch-me moments was when Jay Rayner, the famous food critic who writes for The Guardian / The Observer, came to visit us. He left a glowing review and then featured us in the Guardian’s best-value places to eat around the coast of the
Abi, who’s our manager at the St Andrews shop actually asked me the other day if I ever think how wild it is that people drive so far to come to our shack and hold it in such high regard. And that this is all for something that we have created. It really made me stop and think how cool that is. We’re so well received, and people really do make huge trips just to come and try our food. It’s very humbling, although I do still find myself being my biggest critic. If I know a famous person is coming down, I panic, and worry that they’ll just think “What’s all the fuss about?” However, that has not actually happened yet!
We love how, generally, everything is received really well on social media. We know we post a lot, but it’s paid off. Every single day we get at least one customer coming down to the hatch, to say they’ve come because they’ve seen our silly/cheesy videos online and it’s made them want to visit. We get the occasional troll which always blows my mind, but I just need to remind myself that our socials are free marketing, and it’s obviously working, because we get customers and followers from all over the world. Just this week alone, I’ve posted t-shirts and hoodies to New York, and Philadelphia
Our followers and likes have taken a huge surge in the last year since we’ve really picked up our efforts online. We find now that simply posting a photo of a toastie doesn’t get the same levels of interaction as when we post videos, so it’s just about continuing to follow trends and posting videos, and just trying to make our page something a bit silly and fun.
I would advise anyone looking to set up their own business, to just go for it. We always get people asking us “Weren’t we scared it wouldn’t work?” Of course we were, we’d put all our savings into it, so failing was not an option.
We hustled, we worked every day, we went to every event that was viable for us. We didn’t take on any staff until we were a few years in, we posted every day, multiple times a day, and we shouted about our business and made people listen.
I honestly don’t know if I’d have it in me now to hustle as hard as we did back at the beginning, but I’ve also got 2 small children now who I love spending time with, so I couldn’t be towing trailers back from Edinburgh at 1 am, as I love that I can be present for them and be the one that does every bedtime and that I get to see them every morning.
If I’m not working, I try to start the day off by getting to the gym. A couple of years ago, after having my youngest daughter, I got into CrossFit, which I just fell in love with. I’m still not very good at it but it helps my headspace as well as my physical fitness.
Sam and I try and get out for a walk together; our favourite place being Tensmuir Forest, where we love to stop for a crepe from Salt and Pine. We may have to answer a few emails/go and film some videos for the pages, and before we know it 3 o’clock rolls around and it’s time to grab our girls from school/playgroup
If they’ve not got after-school clubs then they may ask us to take them to the skatepark to practice their skateboarding. If it’s not a school day then we try and get them for a surf at West Sands (if there is any) followed by live music at Dook and a few Aperol Spritz’ for us. Whatever we do, it’s hugely family-oriented. With 7 cousins living close by, and 3 sets of aunties and uncles, as well as Sam’s parents, we’re invariably hanging out with other Largs.
Every Christmas we have raclette on the menu, which is raclette cheese, served over garlic potatoes with charcuterie meats and dressed salad. You basically scrape the melted cheese over the potatoes, and it’s just amazing. It’s such a treat, and can’t help but make you feel festive.
For the year ahead, we want to keep concentrating on giving the best possible products to our customers. We feel that we’re on a really positive trajectory at the moment. Our team’s collective hard work is getting more and more recognised, with a greater following online and more customers coming to the shops. We want to concentrate on keeping this at a high level, and who knows, if the market is right, maybe even opening up some more locations.
With all our thanks to Kate Carter-Larg
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Words and images: Markus Blumenfeld
For Markus Blumenfeld, football is more than a spectacle; it is a shared language spoken across continents. As the creator of The Global Game, a docu-series dedicated to capturing the stories, fans, and fleeting moments that make football special, Blumenfeld uses the sport as a lens through which to understand the world. His work explores the idea that football is an unspoken dialect, one capable of connecting people across borders, backgrounds, and belief systems. A uniting force in a divided world.
In Brazil, that language takes on its purest form.
From the concrete pitches of Rocinha to the thunder of the Maracanã, from São Paulo’s Várzea grounds to the red earth of Vila dos Sonhos in Minas Gerais, Blumenfeld traces football not as entertainment, but as inheritance — Patrimônio Brasileiro. Here, the game is survival and celebration, escape and expression. It is passed from father to son in the favelas, sung into the night by thousands in the stadiums, and defended fiercely by those who believe in the enduring spirit of Joga Bonito.
Through personal encounters — with young dreamers, devoted ultras, and barefoot street players — Blumenfeld reveals a country where football does not simply reflect culture; it shapes it. In Brazil, the beautiful game is not just played. It is lived.
Every generation has a Brazilian legend who made them fall in love with football. Before my time, it was Pelé. For me, it was Ronaldinho. Next came Neymar. The way they play — with flair, improvisation, and joy — turns football into a love story. Football is the “Brazilian heritage” (Patrimônio Brasileiro).
Brazil had always been a dream of mine — a football pilgrimage to the birthplace of Joga Bonito. I started my journey in Rio to experience the different layers of that history. In Rio, life and football bleed into each other. You feel it in Rocinha, the largest favela in Latin America. I went there to understand what the game means to people in these communities, and it was through personal stories that it began to make sense.
Through the eyes of Vitinho, a young father, football becomes the ultimate connector — a passion he is already passing on to his son. For him, the game represents freedom, community, expression, and opportunity.
He told me:
“The difference with football here in the favelas is that children need to have a dream to survive. And of course, the dream of every kid in the favela is to one day be a great player, to have the opportunity to improve life for your family. This is the Brazilian heritage, the culture of dreaming, to live with hope.”
Following Vitinho and his son gave a voice to Rocinha. We climbed narrow alleys and steep staircases to a concrete pitch hanging over the city. There, I played barefoot, witnessing a level of joy and intensity I had never seen before. Football here is both escape and pathway — a way out of poverty and violence in a place where there are so few other routes.
But the game does not live only in the favelas. It is the heartbeat of the carioca lifestyle, and in the stadiums, it feels unlike anywhere else. Outside, a sea of people — drinking, grilling meat, singing for hours before kick-off. On this trip, I saw SPFC, Santos, Corinthians, Fluminense, Botafogo, Vasco, and Flamengo. The Maracanã shook as Flamengo won, the whole of Rio spilling into the night. I experienced Corinthians’ infamous Gaviões da Fiel, one of the most intense and intimidating ultra groups in world football.
Still, it was Vasco da Gama and the iconic São Januário that stole my heart — intimate, historic, and beautiful. The stadium is carved into the working-class bairro de Vasco, in the heart of a favela. The club and its home ground are built on resilience and diversity in a way that feels deeply Brazilian. At half-time, you slip through a tunnel into a tiny Portuguese restaurant hidden inside the stadium walls.
In São Paulo, you feel a different rhythm: pelada on concrete courts, Corinthians shirts everywhere, and then Várzea on the edge of the city — muddy pitches, smoke from barbecues, local heroes who will never be on television but play as if their lives depend on it. I played pickup with some of the most talented street footballers I have ever met. There, Vinni tried to explain what Joga Bonito means to him and his friends.
“Don’t kill Joga Bonito,” he said. “Joga Bonito and street football in Brazil — it’s almost like our soul, you know? It’s our way of playing. We’ve been doing this since we were kids, when we didn’t have shoes. I think now Brazil is trying to follow the European way of playing, but we must remember we won five World Cups playing Joga Bonito — playing with joy, just expressing ourselves. I think we can win and play beautifully. And for those of us who came from poor backgrounds, it’s tough, because this is the only way we know how to express ourselves.”
Outside the cities, I travelled with Marcos Vinícius and Terra FC. We drove into the hills of Minas Gerais to Vila dos Sonhos — the Village of Dreams. It is a small football sanctuary where kids from the favelas come to play, learn, and breathe a different kind of air for a few days. No glamour, no stadium lights — just red earth, green pitches, and the sense that the game can still build something instead of simply selling it.
If Rio’s favelas and São Paulo’s Várzea show football as survival and expression, Vila dos Sonhos reminds you that it can still be a tool for possibility. Together, they form a full picture of what Brazilian heritage truly looks like: a ball, a dream, and a country that still believes in the soul of the beautiful game.
Words and images: Markus Blumenfeld
Markus Blumenfeld is the creator of The Global Game, a docu-series that captures the stories, fans, and moments that make football special. Using the beautiful game as a lens to view the world, the series explores football as an unspoken language—one that connects people from different places, backgrounds, and cultures. A uniting force in a divided world.
You can also find The Global Game on YouTube
All words and images: Gaetano Bastone
For Naples-born photographer Gaetano Bastone, football has never simply been a game. It is a language, a ritual, and a way of understanding people. Raised on street football and later combining that early passion with photography through his project INT ’O STREET, Bastone has long been drawn to the raw, unfiltered spaces where the sport truly lives.
In this piece, he turns his lens toward Brazil’s Várzea football scene, a vast and deeply rooted grassroots movement played far from the glamour of elite stadiums. What he discovers is not just competition, but community: Sunday gatherings where entire neighbourhoods come together, where children improvise with makeshift balls, elders grill meat on the sidelines, and organised supporters create an atmosphere as electric as any professional arena.
Through his experience at Campo do X do Morro and his immersion in Brazilian football culture, Bastone reflects on warmth, belonging, and a version of the game untouched by commercial pressures. His story is not just about Várzea football; it is about the enduring soul of football itself, and why, in Brazil, the sport feels less like entertainment and more like life.
I’ve loved street football since I was a child. At 18, I started managing futsal tournaments in my city. I then decided to combine this passion with photography, and the project INT ‘O STREET was born. In the first chapter, I documented the Scugnizzo Cup, the most famous street tournament in my city.
When I arrived in Brazil, I had only one idea in mind: to document Brazilian street football. Várzea football is a huge movement in Brazil — professionally organised tournaments where the protagonists aren’t famous players, but ordinary people with one shared passion: football. Sunday is a day of great celebration. On the sidelines, you can find old men grilling meat, children playing with a can or anything that resembles a ball, and organised supporters cheering on their team. It’s a unique spectacle for football lovers.
It was a truly unique experience. When I arrived at Campo do X do Morro, my first approach was timid. I was there with my close friend, photographer Rafael Veiga (@rveiga_), who explained to the organisers that I was a photographer from Italy. From that moment on, I received a star-studded welcome: direct access to the sidelines, a free official tournament jersey, and interviews. What I love most about Brazilians is their emotional warmth. I immediately felt at home.
If you love football and are in Brazil, you cannot miss the opportunity to attend a Várzea football match. It’s the best way to experience the purest side of the game, free from political or financial interests. Seniors, adults, and children all come together to enjoy a Sunday of football and fellowship. It’s a unique experience that can only truly be had in Brazil.
There’s no real comparison when it comes to football culture in Brazil. Football is everything there, and it’s experienced with immense passion. I used to believe that my city was among the most passionate in terms of football, but after visiting stadiums in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, my perspective completely changed. In Brazil, they sing before, during, and after the game — it’s a constant celebration to the rhythm of samba. People wear the colours of their favourite team throughout the week, not just on matchday. And there is always respect; if you wear a different jersey to mine, you are still my brother. Brazil is different. I’ve missed it since the day I returned home.
All words and images: Gaetano Bastone
All images by Dana Maria Pop-Oprisan
“Football culture in Romania is deeply emotional and built on loyalty.”
For photographer Dana Maria Pop-Oprisan, Universitatea Cluj is not a club that can be measured in silverware.
“U Cluj is special because it has never been defined by trophies or results,” she says.
In more than a century of history, the club has won only one major trophy — the Romanian Cup in 1965. But, as Dana makes clear, that statistic has never defined what U truly represents.
“U is about people who have stood by the team regardless of the times,” she explains. “About the pride of belonging to a community that never gives up.”
For her, the connection is deeply personal.
“For me, U Cluj means family, joy, emotion, and identity, something truly UNIQUE,” Dana says. “These are not things that can be explained in words; they are felt deeply.”
Love at First Sight
Dana’s relationship with the club began instantly.
“I can say it was love at first sight.”
She remembers her first match vividly — not because of the scoreline, but because of the supporters.
“From my very first match the supporters impressed me with their passion, unity, and songs even though the team was playing away from Cluj,” she says.
At that time, the new stadium was still under construction. U Cluj were not even playing in their own city, yet the atmosphere travelled with them.
Since 2010, Dana has remained faithful to these colours, travelling across the country to support the team. The commitment became part of her life — documenting matches, following the club wherever it played, and embedding herself within the community she describes as family.
A European Return After 53 Years
This season brought a historic moment.
“I was also able to experience a European away match as U Cluj returned to continental competition in the second qualifying round of the Conference League,” Dana says, “where U returned after a 53-year absence.”
For a club whose identity has been built more on loyalty than laurels, the return to Europe carried emotional weight. It was not simply about qualification. It was about history reconnecting with the present.
Cluj Arena: Living Football
Today, Dana describes the experience at Cluj Arena in powerful terms.
“The experience at Cluj Arena is intense and emotional,” she says.
“The atmosphere created by the supporters, the chants, the colours, and the energy in the stands turns every match into a special moment.”
What stands out most, however, is the sense of belonging.
“Here, you are not just a spectator but part of the U family that lives football with passion and pride.”
Romania, Cluj and Identity
Dana places U Cluj within a broader cultural landscape.
“Romania is a country of beautiful contrasts with spectacular nature, a rich history, and welcoming people,” she says.
Cluj itself reflects that balance.
“Cluj perfectly represents this combination: a vibrant city with youthful energy, culture, and tradition. It is a place where the past and the present meet naturally.”
That same emotional depth is evident in Romanian football culture.
“Football culture in Romania is deeply emotional and built on loyalty,” Dana explains. “Supporters live football with passion and attachment.”
For many, she adds, clubs represent identity and tradition.
“Even in difficult moments, the bond between the team and its supporters remains strong.”
Something That Is Felt
U Cluj’s history may include only one major trophy. But for Dana Maria Pop-Oprisan, that has never been the point.
The club is not defined by results.
It is defined by people.
By standing by the team regardless of the times.
By the pride of belonging to a community that never gives up.
By family, joy, emotion, and identity.
By something that cannot be explained in words — only felt deeply.
Words and Images: Joey Corlett
Before the Final: A Nervous Send-Off
Across two home games in Lanús, I was lucky enough to witness both the pensive before and the jubilant after, as their barrio club collected its second Copa Sudamericana following a penalty shootout victory over Atlético Mineiro.
Sadly, I couldn’t make the long round trip to Paraguay for the final itself, but from a nervous send-off to an ecstatic return, it was fascinating to observe a rollercoaster three weeks for El Granate up close and personal.
As the birthplace of Diego Maradona — Argentina’s modern patron saint of football — Lanús had long intrigued me while planning my groundhopping itinerary around Buenos Aires. The week before I arrived in Argentina, Lanús had overcome Universidad de Chile 3–2 in the semi-final to book their place in South America’s equivalent of the Europa League showpiece.
On the eve of my second weekend, I noticed Lanús were hosting Atlético Tucumán in their final regular league game of the 2025 Clausura. The home side sat comfortably in the table, having already qualified for the knockout playoff stage, meaning most attention was firmly fixed on the upcoming continental final.
Journey South: Into Granate Territory
Thanks to Jamie and Eduardo, I managed to secure a ticket and set off via the 74a bondi from the microcentro of Buenos Aires, heading south. Lanús lies just outside the capital and forms part of the wider Buenos Aires province.
Home to more than 450,000 people, Lanús is historically tied to industry — chemical, textile, paper, leather and rubber goods all manufactured locally. In researching the area, I discovered that one of Argentina’s most celebrated rock nacional bands, Babasónicos, was formed there, too.
After a 45-minute ride, the grand European-style architecture of Buenos Aires gave way to more modest, residential surroundings. Dropped off a few blocks from the stadium, it was a simple walk into the neighbourhood.
Previa: Meat, Beer and Confusion
I’d arranged to meet some fellow English groundhoppers who had tucked themselves into a local establishment, grills blazing out front with various cuts of meat sizzling away. Everything you could want from an Argentine matchday was on offer: empanadas, choripán, bottles of beer served almost before you’d finished asking.
Somewhere between Spanish and English, we spoke with local fans — several pleasantly baffled as to how we’d ended up in this corner of town. Every one of them was welcoming, proud, and buzzing ahead of the final. We were even offered a seat on one of the many coaches making the pilgrimage across the continent to Paraguay. Sadly, the 26-hour round trip didn’t fit my schedule — but the gesture alone said everything.
Under the Cabecera Norte
Cutting through ticket and ID checkpoints lined with riot police, we approached a stadium whose walls were covered in murals of past heroes and the ever-present Lanús crest.
As we entered under the Cabecera Norte, the noise was staggering. Even outside, it had been ear-splitting. Inside, the barra brava were already in full flow — trumpets blaring, drums pounding, flags and arms moving in hypnotic rhythm.
With the stadium barely 60% full, the volume was astonishing — perhaps many were already travelling north for the final. Atlético Tucumán refused to simply make up the numbers, fighting back to level at 1–1 before half-time. When Lanús saw a second-half goal ruled out by VAR, a murmur of uncertainty crept through the stands.
Fortunately, clinical finishing restored calm. A 3–1 victory sent head coach Mauricio Pellegrino and his players down the tunnel to the popular stand’s applause — as prepared as they could be.
Sunday in Buenos Aires: A City Listening
A week exploring the capital passed before the final arrived.
While Lanús battled for continental glory, I found myself en route to another game in Buenos Aires. Walking through Chacarita, every kiosk with a spare television or radio was tuned into the final. On social media, many had suggested a Lanús victory would reflect well on Argentine football. You could feel that sentiment everywhere.
On the bus, commentary blared from the driver’s radio. Passengers clutched phones streaming the action. We ducked into a bar near our destination to catch the closing stages of extra time as the game drifted towards penalties.
With both opening penalties saved, tension intensified. Lanús goalkeeper Nahuel Losada thought he had sealed hero status by saving Mineiro’s fourth spot kick — only for Lautaro Acosta to blaze over and surrender the advantage.
Into sudden death. Seventh round.
Franco Watson converts.
Vitor Hugo steps up for Atlético Mineiro and scuffs a weak effort to Losada’s right. The keeper gathers easily.
He is the hero after all.
Lanús are continental champions once again.
The Homecoming
Four days later, Lanús hosted Tigre in the Clausura playoffs. I had to see the return.
Eduardo kindly sorted another ticket — this time with a proper Argentine previa included. The same 74a bus carried me south, but this journey felt different. The streets buzzed. Fans in granate shirts filled bars and kiosks. Plaza Sarmiento overflowed with parillas, coolers of Fernet and beer, and fireworks crackling overhead.
Among Eduardo’s friends — some freshly returned from Asunción — pride radiated. We shared Fernet and cola, discussing Argentine and European football, Maradona’s legacy, and Lanús history. The hospitality felt effortless, natural. Football as a universal language.
Smoke, Fire and Farewell
Entering the stadium again, every face was smiling. The popular was packed, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder.
Fireworks erupted. The barra sang songs of gratitude. Smoke drifted across the pitch as players emerged. Fans scaled fences and poles. One supporter stood high above, shirt twirling overhead.
After layers of celebration, a football match did begin. Tigre, realistic about their task, sat deep. Lanús dominated early but fell behind to a scrappy corner. VAR again denied the hosts an equaliser. Fatigue from 120 minutes in the final was evident.
Tigre progressed. But no one truly cared.
The Copa Sudamericana trophy was paraded around the pitch. Fans climbed for a glimpse. Speeches followed — most notably an emotional farewell to Lautaro Acosta, who bowed out after 429 appearances, the most in club history. Fittingly, his teammates ensured his legacy would not be defined by that missed penalty.
After nearly four hours of chanting and celebration, we left — gratefully accepting a lift back to Buenos Aires, detouring past the hospital where Maradona was born.
A Barrio Club on Tour Again
Seeing the joy on Eduardo and his friends’ faces was a privilege. To witness a historic moment for a barrio club at such close quarters felt special.
With victory comes qualification for the Copa Libertadores and a Recopa Sudamericana showdown with Flamengo. More journeys lie ahead. More away days.
Lanús are going on tour again.
And if you’re lucky enough to be there, you’ll understand why that matters.
Words and Images: Joey Corlett
Football clubs are not built overnight. They are shaped slowly, by players, coaches, supporters, and moments that linger long after the final whistle. In Zwolle, that story stretches back 115 years.
Founded on June 12, 1910, PEC Zwolle reaches a landmark anniversary this season, and the club is marking the occasion in fitting style. Zwolle Originals is more than a kit launch; it is a celebration of identity, continuity, and the figures who helped shape both the club and the city.
Shot with a selection of true club originals — including Jaap Stam, Tijjani Reijnders, and Arne Slot — the campaign bridges generations, bringing together eras that define Zwolle’s footballing DNA.
At its heart, Zwolle Originals is about recognition. Recognition of the players and coaches who left a lasting imprint and whose influence is still felt today. From Bram van Polen to Co Adriaanse, from Henk Timmer to Albert van der Haar, the campaign gathers together names that resonate deeply with supporters.
The anniversary celebrations culminate in Zwolle Originals Matchday on Saturday, January 31st — a moment dedicated to reflecting on the club’s rich history and the people who helped build it. These are the figures many supporters grew up watching, learning from, and celebrating; individuals who turned Zwolle from a name on a fixture list into a shared emotional reference point.
To mark the milestone, the club is also releasing a limited-edition Zwolle Originals 115th anniversary shirt. Featuring all of the aforementioned icons, the shirt serves as both a wearable tribute and a piece of living history.
In an era often obsessed with the next signing or the next season, Zwolle Originals pauses to look backwards, not out of nostalgia, but out of respect. It is a reminder that clubs endure because of their people, their stories, and their ability to honour where they come from.
Reimagining clothing as a moving canvas through Acrylic Fusion.
Reimagining clothing as a moving canvas through Acrylic Fusion.
With anticipation building ahead of this summer’s FIFA World Cup, Scottish contemporary artist Craig Black unveils Atlético Fusion — a visionary art project translating his signature Acrylic Fusion technique from canvas to fabric.
The project reimagines what football apparel — and clothing more broadly — can be when art, culture, and storytelling collide. More than a football shirt, Atlético Fusion explores the idea of clothing as a moving canvas, where colour, texture, and energy shift with the body, allowing art to be lived, worn, and experienced in everyday life.
At the heart of the project is Craig Black’s belief that wearable art is a mindset — a way for art to exist beyond walls, embedding itself into identity, culture, and human expression.
A Case Study in Wearable Art
Presented through a conceptual football shirt and fictional club, Atlético Fusion demonstrates what’s possible when original artwork is thoughtfully translated into wearable form.
Acting as a creative proof point, it shows how Acrylic Fusion can retain its depth, movement, and emotional energy when applied to fabric.
The result is a garment designed to exist both on and off the pitch: a cultural object that reflects ambition, imagination, and individuality, and illustrates how art can help tell richer stories through product.
From Canvas to Clothing
The Atlético Fusion shirt originates from a unique, hand-poured Acrylic Fusion artwork. Using Craig’s distinctive process, layers of colour interact organically, creating fluid motion and captivating visual energy.
That original artwork was then meticulously adapted for fabric, ensuring the textures and rhythm of the piece live within the garment as it moves with the wearer. The process highlights how Studio Craig Black specialises in translating art into new formats without losing its soul — whether applied to clothing, objects, packaging, or environments.
Personal Connection & Creative Journey
For Craig, Atlético Fusion is deeply personal — a way of sharing his own story.
Football was his first love and creative outlet. As a child, he expressed emotion through sketching long before discovering painting, eventually pursuing a career as a professional footballer. Experiencing the sport from the inside gave him a deep understanding of its culture, identity, and emotional power.
Those early drawings and lived experiences have since evolved into an international artistic practice spanning global brand collaborations, live performances, and exhibitions. Atlético Fusion brings that journey full circle — uniting Craig’s passion for football with his distinctive Acrylic Fusion technique.
Storytelling Through Wearable Art
Designed to be gender-inclusive, Atlético Fusion challenges traditional boundaries between sport, fashion, and fine art. It demonstrates how wearable art can communicate values, identity, and cultural relevance — offering a new way to express who we are and what we stand for.
At its core, the project reflects a simple belief:
Art lives beyond walls, and football inspires far beyond the pitch.
Both are powerful cultural languages, capable of telling human stories through movement, emotion, and imagination.
Artist Quote
“Atlético Fusion isn’t about a football shirt — it’s about possibility. It shows how my Acrylic Fusion technique can live on the body and become part of someone’s identity. This is wearable art as storytelling, where creativity moves, evolves, and connects with people.”
— Craig Black
A Timely Cultural Moment
Arriving as the world looks toward a FIFA World Cup hosted across the USA, Mexico, and Canada, Atlético Fusion reflects the growing intersection of sport, fashion, and culture on a global stage.
For Craig Black — a former professional footballer and proud Scot — the project also carries personal significance, aligning with Scotland’s return to the World Cup and reinforcing his vision to bring fine art into new environments, expanding its relevance across industries, communities, and cultures.
About Craig Black
Craig Black is an internationally recognised contemporary visual artist known for his signature Acrylic Fusion technique — a hand-poured paint process that creates mesmerising, fluid artworks. He specialises in telling brand stories through his art. His work spans fine art, commercial collaborations, live performances, installations, and experiential design. Craig has collaborated with leading global brands and continues to push the boundaries of how art can live in the world.
Studio Craig Black
Email: hello@craig.black
Website: https://craig.black/
Instagram: @_CraigBlack
LinkedIn: Craig Black
