Fans urge Como to cancel Australia friendly match.6 hours ago7 min read999 comments

The passionate outcry from Como's fan group, Curva Como 1907, against a proposed friendly against AC Milan in Perth, Australia, is more than just a dispute over a preseason fixture; it's a fundamental clash between the soul of football and its increasingly globalized, commercialized shell. UEFA's exceptional permission for the match, set to be played a staggering 14,000 kilometers from the shores of Lake Como, has ignited a firestorm that cuts to the very core of what a football club represents.In a blistering, heartfelt statement, the fans didn't just ask for a cancellation; they delivered a masterclass in the unwritten contract between a team and its people, a document written in decades of shared sacrifice, not in the fine print of a marketing deal. They eloquently detailed their own CV of devotion, from the anonymous, GPS-defying stadiums of Serie D to the relentless Sunday pilgrimages funded from their own pockets, framing their 'sacrifice' not as an abstract concept for boardroom discussion but as the very bedrock of their identity.This is the kind of raw, emotional calculus that gets lost in the cold, hard numbers of a balance sheet, a reminder that while a club can buy players, it cannot purchase the unwavering faith that turns a collection of individuals into a community's standard-bearer. The fans’ argument is a powerful echo of footballing philosophies that prioritize local identity, drawing a stark contrast with the modern era of lucrative international tours where clubs often resemble multinational corporations on a preseason brand-building exercise.One can draw a direct parallel to the eternal debate surrounding FC Barcelona's 'Més que un club' ethos; when that sentiment is tested by financial pressures or global ambitions, it forces a painful introspection about priorities. The Curva Como 1907 statement is essentially asserting that 'Como is more than a brand,' and this Australian jaunt, framed by the club as necessary for 'growth' and the 'common good,' feels like a betrayal of that principle.They rightly point out that the club's heart doesn't travel business class; it remains in the stands, in the rain and cold, amidst the choruses and flags that provide the team's true, unquantifiable home-field advantage. This isn't merely nostalgia; it's a strategic warning.History is littered with clubs that alienated their core support in pursuit of a broader, often fickle, international audience, only to find that the new fans lacked the deep-rooted connection to sustain the club through inevitable downturns. The potential consequences of ignoring such a visceral plea from a club's most loyal stakeholders are profound, risking a schism that could poison the atmosphere at the Stadio Giuseppe Sinigaglia for seasons to come.It raises a critical question for the club's hierarchy: is the short-term financial injection and brand exposure from one match in Australia worth the long-term erosion of trust with the people who will still be there long after the marketing executives have moved on? The fans are not opposing progress; they are demanding that progress includes them, that it respects the culture they have built and sustained. Their final, powerful plea—'Do not be puppets in this clown show'—is a call for the club to demonstrate the same pride, respect, and dignity they expect from their supporters, to remember that the most valuable asset any football club possesses is not its star player or its commercial revenue, but the unbreakable bond with the community that gives it meaning, purpose, and its very name.