Recently, I watched a team owned by an American consortium, languishing in 16th, with an old stadium and a fanbase made sceptical by two decades of shoddy ownership. No, not Leeds, but Venezia.

Relegated from Serie A last season, they are flirting with consecutive relegations. Shiver. Although Italy’s third tier is more attractive than away days at Port Vale and Peterborough. When I was there, Massimo Cellino’s Brescia were in town and that meant a (faint) chance of seeing Adryan. After Cagliari and Leeds, the sweet prince has managed to leave the poker table long enough to secure himself a third chance with Cellino. It’s unclear what appealed to him about coming to twiddle thumbs on various benches. Maybe it was his two games with Gaetano Berardi in Sion.

Venezia’s ground sits on the Eastern tip of Venice’s main island group and there are no vehicles on the island, so getting there means the water bus — boat — or walk. We did both, stopping to eat along the way and stumbling across a ceramics school that had been partially commandeered as an ultras bar.

The term ‘ultra’ evokes thoughts of men wearing black and carrying some sort of weapon, but the familial setting of the Brigate Lagunari’s meetup is less intimidating, with a speaker playing Europop at a respectable volume and fresh sandwiches on the go. I was in heaven upon ordering two beers and a large sandwich and receiving them with substantial change from a tenner. This crew even have their own merch, with most in matching black sweatshirts or hoodies sporting the ultras’ crest. Note to Oddy, get making a TSB Ultras range.

Ater navigating the canals and tiny streets on the way to Stadio Pier Luigi Penzo, Google Maps left me hanging and the deafening silence emanating from endless streets of 1920s apartment blocks wasn’t being drowned out by hordes of screaming fans or the hum of a burger van’s generator. Knowing there was a marina at the stadium, we followed the swaying masts in the distance until we reached the water taxi rank beside the main stand. Very on brand for Venice.

Returning to Serie B last summer after a year in the top flight, Venezia’s unexpected promotion created ‘unrealistic expectations’ among some of the fanbase, to borrow a phrase from dear old Angus, though there was minimal tangible unrest in this serene setting. Leaning into the Leeds comparison, Venezia launched a rebrand that included a new club crest, only weeks after relegation. The difference is that theirs wasn’t shit. Well, that and they didn’t pretend to consult 10,000 fans on the matter. I suppose you get what you pay for with a trendy German design agency, rather than using a template from Shutterstock.

Venezia ditched Nike for Kappa two years ago, believing it would give them greater creative control. It has allowed them to produce kits that have propelled them into the consciousness of football hipsters and kit fanatics. Although this season’s Leeds United third jersey is a reminder that a club with creative control isn’t necessarily a good thing.

Venezia’s new ‘cool’ club identity hasn’t resonated with some sections of the fanbase, notably the ultras. Their US ownership, led by Wall Street guy Duncan L. Niederauer, has been accused of using the club as a marketing vehicle, an easy dig when performances on the pitch don’t match shirt sales or social media engagement. The argument has some merit and the departure of the club’s Chief Brand Officer last month was met with widespread approval from aggrieved fans. The American approach to football as a business has rubbed a few up the wrong way, so say their detractors. Once again, it sounds a little familiar.

It’s unfair to say that this has all been merely a marketing ploy. It’s a regime that has delivered success, albeit fleeting, while still learning the trade in a vicious industry. On the pitch, this season has been below par. A new coach and promising recruitment brought hope of a decent season, but they’ve been in a relegation battle since early September. Kept afloat by Joel Pohjanpalo, their Finnish striker and Serie B’s fourth top scorer, they have traversed the choppy waters brought about by a mid-season managerial change and a January window when several players left.

But their turmoil is minor compared to Massimo Cellino’s Brescia, who are bottom of Serie B and on their fifth coach of the season, having sacked Pep Clotet twice. The wonderkid Adryan couldn’t save this team, let alone this current version, more like Alan from The Hangover.

Venezia’s stadium is the second oldest in Italy, but it retains a modicum of comfort and serviceable amenities, which is all you can ask for. It’s tiny, holding 7,000 people, and the main stand is surrounded by three stands made entirely of metal bleachers. You can get away with it in Italy more so than England, before Radrizzani gets ideas about renovating the West Stand on the cheap.

It does retain some trendy points for being on its own ‘island’, only accessible by five security-manned bridges, and the main stand is so close to the pitch that I could have taken a corner from the turnstile. The club has given the place a lick of paint, some new seating and decent toilets. By keeping the old stadium facade and structure, while improving the practical features, they’ve perfected the balance between tradition and modernity. Take note, Leeds.

I end up sitting in the main stand, bizarrely surrounded by a horde of students who scared me with their youth and exuberance. Although there was only around six/seven years of age gap between us, I’ve never felt older. If my ginger hair and Belfast accent didn’t stand out, my impossibly uncool clothing did.

As for the game, the first half ended goalless, lacking quality. The ultras still sang, set off smoke grenades and booed Brescia’s theatrics. Plenty of Bresciani made the 120 mile trip and it created a decent atmosphere, with insults flying from either end that my basic Duolingo Italian tried to understand, while I also kept an eye on the directors’ box in case Cellino appeared. I checked the toilets at half-time too, because… you know.

In the second half, Adryan threatened to warm up while Pohjanpalo put Venezia ahead in front of the ultras, whose pyrotechnics and grenades only intensified. The place was bouncing for all of ten minutes before Brescia scored a goal that looked like a re-enactment of 1990s Sunday league. Furious goalmouth kicking until it was eventually bundled in. It all ended 1-1, even after Venezia’s American striker Andrija Novakovich’s last minute scuff at the ‘keeper with the goal at his mercy, leading to some muttering about the ‘Americano’ from the folks beside me. Maybe it was just a heated discussion about coffee.

A good day of football tourism, but a few too many reminders of Leeds United for my liking. Is there anything our club could learn from Venezia? Dump Adidas and go for a supplier that’ll let you do fun stuff, then hire someone competent to make the fun stuff. However, make sure to involve fans, consider history and tradition. They were there before you came and will be after you leave.

Also, fix the bloody stadium up. At least a little. It would be unfair to compare ours to amateur clubs because they tend to be proud and take care of their limited facilities. Elland Road is more like an abandoned shopping centre that they’ve reopened and refused to renovate, clean or provide with the most basic amenities. It’s not much to ask. A team with much less money has done it, so why can’t Leeds? Perhaps it’s a question of caring. Maybe we should be more like the Venezia ultras and kick off a bit when we don’t get our way. I’m not inciting violence, just a little more holding to account.

(This article is free to read from TSB magazine 2022/23 issue 07. To buy paper copies or read more, click here) ⬢