The day I had been looking forward to for quite some time had finally come. I was going to see Avellino again, my favourite team from Italy, in their last game of the season. Coincidentally, it had been exactly one year since I last visited them and I had promised myself I’d come back next year; here I was. Back then, I saw them beat Crotone at home, securing second place in Serie C and thus a spot in the promotion playoffs, which unfortunately they lost. But this year, it was their time to escape the hell that is Serie C, earning the much-awaited promotion to Serie B after seven years.

The team didn’t start off the season well, but their results progressively improved, leading up to an impressive ten-game winning streak. They eventually secured the title last week, in the penultimate fixture, against Sorrento in a match played away in Potenza. Wild celebrations broke out in every corner of the Irpinia region and thousands gathered in Avellino’s square to greet the squad returning from Potenza. I could only watch the scenes of madness from my computer, but I knew I would soon be there too, once again.

Avellino might be a small city and their team may not be among the most successful, but their fanbase has nothing to envy from those of Serie A clubs.

My day started at the by-now all-too-familiar station of Naples, where I took a coach to Avellino. I listened to “T’immagini” by Vasco Rossi on repeat while reminiscing about my last time there and mentally preparing to speak Italian again. As soon as I arrived, I was warmly welcomed by my good friend who drove us to the city centre to meet more of our friends and have lunch. The whole city was dressed in green and white; flags were hanging from balconies, ribbons were tied to poles and stickers were stuck on road signs.

We made a move toward the stadium and settled at the bar behind the south curve of Stadio Partenio, drinking beers, catching up, and passing stickers around as more and more people gathered. Shouts, laughter, and my broken Italian filled the atmosphere. I was happy to reunite with friends made last year and meet new faces while waiting for kick-off time to approach.

We took the very short walk to the entrance and finally entered the Curva Sud (south stand) of Stadio Partenio. Partenio is a gritty, charming, old-school ground located on the edge of the city. Its total capacity is 26,000, but at the moment, it can only accommodate up to 9,000 spectators due to structural issues. The demand in recent matches has far exceeded this number, but I was lucky enough that my friend managed to buy me a ticket before they sold out. The stand was more than full, and fans had brought all sorts of green flags with them after a call from the ultras. Visiting fans were also there, filling the compact away section, although their team had nothing to play for.

The match itself was actually of zero importance. Avellino were already champions, and Altamura were safe from relegation and too far from the playoff zone. It didn’t matter though—everyone was there. In the stands, everyone was smiling, joking, and singing. My friends were excitedly discussing next year’s away games, like high schoolers planning their senior trip: “Venezia, Brescia, Lecce… we’re back!” It was all a big celebration. New and old chants were sung in full force, and when the Greens scored, the crowd went into ecstasy—even though a goal meant absolutely nothing. I can barely recall anything that happened on the pitch; I only remember celebrating a goal twice.

As much as I didn’t want to, the game eventually came to an end. We all stayed for a bit, celebrating with the players before leaving to grab some pizza and promising to meet again next season. I went to bed, the celebratory sound of car horns still echoing in my head, along with this simple yet beautiful old chant that was first sung again today after years:

Che bello è
Quando esco di casa
Per andare allo stadio
A tifare Avellino…