“This is a place where the first embers of the brightest stars of world football began to burn.”
Skirting the Bays of Monaco
Skirting the bays of Monaco’s dramatic, sea-kissed and mountainous coastline, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I only knew that I was “meeting a man in a bar, who is a big Monaco fan.”
What transpired over the next few sun-soaked hours perfectly encapsulated how football connects us — and exactly why it’s so important.
A Warm Welcome
The welcome I received was more fitting for someone returning from war — handshakes, hugs, and kisses on the cheek.
I was immediately aware of how British and emotionally stifled I am.
The man I was here to meet was called Marsou. He confidently extended his hand and said something that sounded very friendly.
We sat down, and over a few espressos, quickly established that neither of us spoke the other’s language.
But we knew football — and that is normally more than enough.
The Local Hub
The bar was a local hub. A place where famous players sat down with local punters.
One man, a former referee, excitedly produced his notepad, wiping off the dust as he prised it open. He showed me pictures of himself refereeing at big games — World Cups, French Cup finals, and Zidane’s debut season at Cannes.
Mr Monaco
It was explained to me that Marsou had spent years amassing an AS Monaco football collection.
“You name it, he has it,” they told me. What sounded like a casual invitation was, to my mind, overwhelmingly exciting — too exciting to pass up.
Marsou himself was regarded by many as “Mr Monaco.” Walking with him down the streets, it was clear he was known by almost everyone in some way.
Each person we passed shook his hand, shared a story, and laughed with him. It took us about ten minutes to cover 200 metres from the bar where we’d met.
But it was midday, the sun was out, and everyone we encountered was — by this point — half-cut, so there was really no rush.
The Community Centre
Suddenly, Marsou stopped. After turning to me excitedly, he realised he couldn’t explain what he wanted to ask.
He tutted and simply ushered me into a building. It turned out to be a community youth centre, closely linked to the club.
Of course, Marsou knew everyone in there by name — and probably by blood group.
I was introduced to a community leader who showed us a small room with walls proudly adorned with donated match-worn Monaco shirts.
A Development Club
It’s worth noting that, in some ways, Monaco is very much a development club.
This is a place where the first embers of the brightest stars of world football began to burn: Henry, Petit, Mbappé, Trezeguet, Lilian Thuram, Tchouaméni…
There is rarely resentment about how players leave, or even where they go.
There is, however, unbridled pride that this is where it all began.
The Hidden Treasure
Before we left, Marsou began rummaging through a desk — one that I assume wasn’t his.
After a few moments, he pulled out two mangled scraps of paper, each with a black-and-white image.
He lifted the first up to my face — a photo of him with Zidane.
And on the other? A picture of him with R9 — the man, Ronaldo — in 1997. Fishing. Just before the 1998 World Cup.
The Garage of Dreams
After a five-minute walk, we arrived at a garage. A beige door. Packed with boxes, step ladders, and the gentle whir of an old fridge freezer.
It could have been any garage, anywhere.
But this was not any ordinary garage. It was a gateway — a portal to a land of footballing dreams.
Behind a rusty door and down an overgrown garden path lay all the footballing memories of one man’s life.
For Marsou, this was a personal, autobiographical monument. A love letter to his club.
This wasn’t just the story of AS Monaco, it was the story of AS Monaco as only Marsou could tell it. Through his eyes.
A Treasure Trove
He guided me through. Each item had a story to tell.
Polaroids of him with players from the mid-80s. Posters from games — both won and lost. Pin badges, books, pennants, paintings. Big flags, small flags. Trophies.
I was struck: here, at the end of an unassuming garden, through an unassuming garage door, was a treasure trove of footballing history.
There are places in this life that you will carry with you until you die — and walking back out through the knee-high grass, I knew this was one of them.
Not for the collection’s size or economic value, but for its importance to him, and that he was willing to share it with a complete stranger who couldn’t even speak his language.
“Tout meurt”
As we started to walk back down the hill, Marsou told me that in two years, this place would be no more, knocked down to make way for a new road.
A collection of things that, two minutes earlier, had seemed so permanent, ageless, and perfectly housed was — in fact — going to have to go.
“Tout meurt,” he said. “Everything dies.”
The Power of Football
Football has given me so much.
If it were not for a shared love of this silly little game, I’d never have found myself thousands of miles from home, surrounded by dust-covered photo albums, sipping on an ice-cold Ricard, and connecting with a group of total strangers.
But more to the point, my near-fluent Year 7 French would have all been for nothing.
As I told my teacher back then: J’adore le foot.
And I stand by it. J’adore it beaucoup — and then some.
Smash Burgers and Anthems
We drove back along the same dramatic coastline that had brought us there. We were on a mission: food.
And in Monaco, on a football trip, there is only one place for that.
Nestled in the heart of the old town, just steps from the Palace, sits Smash Burgers Monaco.
But this is not just a burger place. Few diners probably know who is behind the scenes, cooking some of the best burgers you’ll ever taste.
Yann Zeppegno is more than an excellent chef — he is an icon of the AS Monaco fanbase. Lead singer of Leden, and writer of the supporters’ anthem.
In 2004, as AS Monaco made it all the way to the Champions League final, their song Rouge et Blanc struck a chord with the fanbase and has become the unofficial soundtrack ever since.
A melodic, heartfelt, and organic tribute to the club — now sung, scarves aloft, before kick-off at the Stade Louis II.
If you are ever in Monaco, I insist you stop by. And — on the rare occasion there isn’t a queue out the door — chat football, Monaco, and burger toppings.
Two Sides of Monaco
I don’t mind confessing, I was a Monaco sceptic.
To my mind, money is a necessary evil. It’s the basis of all inequality and conflict, and its societal importance is nothing more than a symptom of a broken system.
And here I was, on a train to a land famous mainly for welcoming those with lots of it.
I expected to feel the money seeping out from between the cobbles beneath my feet. To feel isolated. Uncomfortable. Like I didn’t fit in — unless I bought a pair of chinos and a branded polo shirt.
But there are two sides to this city.
While there are helipads, casino chips, and yachts, there is another, much deeper reality.
I left with the image of a tight-knit community, home to a dedicated, welcoming, and enthusiastic footballing fanbase.
This is a community with a footballing heritage every bit as rich as its financial reputation.
In Essence
In essence, Monaco is much like anywhere.
In some parts of the principality, there is mega money, sure. And if you don’t bother to dig beneath the surface, that could easily be your only impression.
But scratch the surface — and you’ll find so much more.
What will stick with me most about this adventure are the stories and the passionate people who shared them with me.
ALL WORDS AND IMAGES BY SAM MCARDLE.
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