Jonathan Lobban:

Our photographer and videographer, Rob ‘Fellini’ Macdonald, couldn’t say he wasn’t warned. “Pericolo sta sera [danger tonight] … boom, boom!” said Alessio, the son of our Neapolitan shirt maker, shooting imaginary pistols in the air. We had just finished our visit to Camiceria Sannino and Rob had shared that he would be staying in Naples that evening – the very same night SSC Napoli would host Cagliari to decide the winner of the Serie A.

Minutes later, the caution was echoed by our taxi driver. “Football tonight in Napoli... terrorists!” he informed Rob, before looking off in the distance and adding dreamily, “Ah, beautiful life…”

Later that night, I checked in with Rob. “Lost a bit of hair. Shirt has holes. Bangers going off everywhere. Chaos!” Over to you, Fellini…

Rob Macdonald:

The streets were alive and flooded with the sky blue of SSC Napoli in every form: streamers, banners, t-shirts and smoke flares. The air smelled like gunpowder and cheap prosecco. A kid, barely older than a toddler, held aloft a freshly lit blue flare that had been proudly handed to him by his father. Gala’s “Freed from Desire”, the football anthem, blasted on loop from a makeshift DJ platform erected outside a small pizzeria.

In the richly vibrant central Neapolitan area of Forcella, under the shadow of renowned local graffiti artist Jorit Agoch’s mural of the city’s patron saint San Gennaro, the atmosphere teetered along a razor’s edge between celebration and riot. And this was still three hours until kick-off.

Napoli were expected to beat lower-ranked Cagliari and with it win the Scudetto. But when their only threat for the title, Inter Milan, went one up in their match against Como, while just minutes before half-time Napoli remained frustrated at nil-all, the tension was palpable. I genuinely started to worry what would happen to the city—indeed, whether it would still be standing by morning—if their team somehow fell at the final hurdle.

Then, three minutes before the break, a Napoli goal. Naples exploded. Fireworks launched into the sky. Thick blue smoke again filled the air and the lungs. Music roared to life. There was singing. Chanting. Six minutes into the second half, Napoli’s Romelu Lukaku doubled the lead. Now it was time to really celebrate.

Only when I felt fireworks burn a hole in my hastily purchased football shirt and torch clumps of my hair did I start to think it might be time to head for the haven of my accommodation. For the good citizens of Naples, the party was only just beginning.

“Fantastic,” an Italian friend wrote to me the next day after I sent him some iPhone videos. “100 people seriously injured after yesterday. Fun party.”