Normal time was up. Everybody on the bench was saying the game [against Atlético on Matchday 1] was already over. But you don’t leave any stone unturned. You hope. We deserved an equaliser and I wanted to do something, in any way possible. Without the green light from the bench, though, you can’t go anywhere. Everything happened as it was meant to.
I went forward and Danilo Cataldi took the corner. It started low and, if I’m not mistaken, somebody called for handball. The corner went badly, but fortunately we got the ball back. It was passed to Luis Alberto, who was unmarked on the edge of the box. When he moves inside from that sort of area, he generally aims for the back post, so I threw myself in that direction. If things are meant to happen, they happen. I ran into that space, thinking, “If I get the ball, great.” It hit the net and there was that roar, our outburst of joy that you all saw on screen.
Honestly, explaining it makes it seem like I’m a know-it-all. On the pitch, instinct comes out. You don’t think about it at all. You see an empty space and you move into it. You don’t stop to rationalise it. I’m pretty fatalistic, so I think, “I’ll do what I can. If I can’t get there, then another of my team-mates will.”
When I realised I had scored, it was chaos. I started to run and everybody around me did the same and started celebrating. It was the first match of the group stage, the one that set us on the path for the rest of the competition. That’s why I was so happy. But I was mainly happy not to have lost and to have started well in the group.
I was happy for what I achieved, but I was even more happy to see my team-mates happy because of it. To see someone happy for something that you have done is an incredible feeling and it makes you even happier.
Normal time was up. Everybody on the bench was saying the game [against Atlético on Matchday 1] was already over. But you don’t leave any stone unturned. You hope. We deserved an equaliser and I wanted to do something, in any way possible. Without the green light from the bench, though, you can’t go anywhere. Everything happened as it was meant to.
I went forward and Danilo Cataldi took the corner. It started low and, if I’m not mistaken, somebody called for handball. The corner went badly, but fortunately we got the ball back. It was passed to Luis Alberto, who was unmarked on the edge of the box. When he moves inside from that sort of area, he generally aims for the back post, so I threw myself in that direction. If things are meant to happen, they happen. I ran into that space, thinking, “If I get the ball, great.” It hit the net and there was that roar, our outburst of joy that you all saw on screen.
Honestly, explaining it makes it seem like I’m a know-it-all. On the pitch, instinct comes out. You don’t think about it at all. You see an empty space and you move into it. You don’t stop to rationalise it. I’m pretty fatalistic, so I think, “I’ll do what I can. If I can’t get there, then another of my team-mates will.”
When I realised I had scored, it was chaos. I started to run and everybody around me did the same and started celebrating. It was the first match of the group stage, the one that set us on the path for the rest of the competition. That’s why I was so happy. But I was mainly happy not to have lost and to have started well in the group.
I was happy for what I achieved, but I was even more happy to see my team-mates happy because of it. To see someone happy for something that you have done is an incredible feeling and it makes you even happier.
There’s no doubt that goal, that moment, got my name out there. It certainly attracted some attention. And I like that, but I also dislike it. Sure, it was a nice thing to happen, but as far as I’m concerned, I would like the attention on me to be because of my performance at Lazio as a goalkeeper, as a player, as a person and as a team-mate. Of course, a goal is always a good thing, but I would prefer people to appreciate me for what I do as the goalkeeper for Lazio, or as a team-mate.
I had actually scored once before, a couple of years ago in 2020, when I was playing in Serie B with Juve Stabia. That time, it came from an in-swinging cross, but the whole set-up was similar. It’s a great memory too. I have so much more confidence now because of that experience.
I would like to call the goal against Atleti “Don’t stop dreaming.” That’s because a goalkeeper, a guy who dreams of being a goalkeeper at the elite level, will never dream of, or at least, will hardly ever think about scoring a goal.
But I want to bring it back to the fact that I played my first match in the Champions League when I was 29 years old, when players are usually thought of as having already arrived at the highest level. And I scored a goal on my debut.
When I think of the Champions League, the first thing that comes to mind – regardless of what I’ve experienced this season – is that it’s a dream I have had since I was a child. Hearing that special music at the beginning and dreaming of maybe one day playing in a final. This is what the Champions League is to me.
So, I would like it to send a message to young guys – in football or any job – that the most important thing is to believe in what you’re doing, even though there will always be many difficulties. And then, even when you least expect it, a turn of events can arrive and make everything even more beautiful, even more than you would have ever expected. Just like in a dream.
Normal time was up. Everybody on the bench was saying the game [against Atlético on Matchday 1] was already over. But you don’t leave any stone unturned. You hope. We deserved an equaliser and I wanted to do something, in any way possible. Without the green light from the bench, though, you can’t go anywhere. Everything happened as it was meant to.
I went forward and Danilo Cataldi took the corner. It started low and, if I’m not mistaken, somebody called for handball. The corner went badly, but fortunately we got the ball back. It was passed to Luis Alberto, who was unmarked on the edge of the box. When he moves inside from that sort of area, he generally aims for the back post, so I threw myself in that direction. If things are meant to happen, they happen. I ran into that space, thinking, “If I get the ball, great.” It hit the net and there was that roar, our outburst of joy that you all saw on screen.
Honestly, explaining it makes it seem like I’m a know-it-all. On the pitch, instinct comes out. You don’t think about it at all. You see an empty space and you move into it. You don’t stop to rationalise it. I’m pretty fatalistic, so I think, “I’ll do what I can. If I can’t get there, then another of my team-mates will.”
When I realised I had scored, it was chaos. I started to run and everybody around me did the same and started celebrating. It was the first match of the group stage, the one that set us on the path for the rest of the competition. That’s why I was so happy. But I was mainly happy not to have lost and to have started well in the group.
I was happy for what I achieved, but I was even more happy to see my team-mates happy because of it. To see someone happy for something that you have done is an incredible feeling and it makes you even happier.
Normal time was up. Everybody on the bench was saying the game [against Atlético on Matchday 1] was already over. But you don’t leave any stone unturned. You hope. We deserved an equaliser and I wanted to do something, in any way possible. Without the green light from the bench, though, you can’t go anywhere. Everything happened as it was meant to.
I went forward and Danilo Cataldi took the corner. It started low and, if I’m not mistaken, somebody called for handball. The corner went badly, but fortunately we got the ball back. It was passed to Luis Alberto, who was unmarked on the edge of the box. When he moves inside from that sort of area, he generally aims for the back post, so I threw myself in that direction. If things are meant to happen, they happen. I ran into that space, thinking, “If I get the ball, great.” It hit the net and there was that roar, our outburst of joy that you all saw on screen.
Honestly, explaining it makes it seem like I’m a know-it-all. On the pitch, instinct comes out. You don’t think about it at all. You see an empty space and you move into it. You don’t stop to rationalise it. I’m pretty fatalistic, so I think, “I’ll do what I can. If I can’t get there, then another of my team-mates will.”
When I realised I had scored, it was chaos. I started to run and everybody around me did the same and started celebrating. It was the first match of the group stage, the one that set us on the path for the rest of the competition. That’s why I was so happy. But I was mainly happy not to have lost and to have started well in the group.
I was happy for what I achieved, but I was even more happy to see my team-mates happy because of it. To see someone happy for something that you have done is an incredible feeling and it makes you even happier.
Normal time was up. Everybody on the bench was saying the game [against Atlético on Matchday 1] was already over. But you don’t leave any stone unturned. You hope. We deserved an equaliser and I wanted to do something, in any way possible. Without the green light from the bench, though, you can’t go anywhere. Everything happened as it was meant to.
I went forward and Danilo Cataldi took the corner. It started low and, if I’m not mistaken, somebody called for handball. The corner went badly, but fortunately we got the ball back. It was passed to Luis Alberto, who was unmarked on the edge of the box. When he moves inside from that sort of area, he generally aims for the back post, so I threw myself in that direction. If things are meant to happen, they happen. I ran into that space, thinking, “If I get the ball, great.” It hit the net and there was that roar, our outburst of joy that you all saw on screen.
Honestly, explaining it makes it seem like I’m a know-it-all. On the pitch, instinct comes out. You don’t think about it at all. You see an empty space and you move into it. You don’t stop to rationalise it. I’m pretty fatalistic, so I think, “I’ll do what I can. If I can’t get there, then another of my team-mates will.”
When I realised I had scored, it was chaos. I started to run and everybody around me did the same and started celebrating. It was the first match of the group stage, the one that set us on the path for the rest of the competition. That’s why I was so happy. But I was mainly happy not to have lost and to have started well in the group.
I was happy for what I achieved, but I was even more happy to see my team-mates happy because of it. To see someone happy for something that you have done is an incredible feeling and it makes you even happier.
There’s no doubt that goal, that moment, got my name out there. It certainly attracted some attention. And I like that, but I also dislike it. Sure, it was a nice thing to happen, but as far as I’m concerned, I would like the attention on me to be because of my performance at Lazio as a goalkeeper, as a player, as a person and as a team-mate. Of course, a goal is always a good thing, but I would prefer people to appreciate me for what I do as the goalkeeper for Lazio, or as a team-mate.
I had actually scored once before, a couple of years ago in 2020, when I was playing in Serie B with Juve Stabia. That time, it came from an in-swinging cross, but the whole set-up was similar. It’s a great memory too. I have so much more confidence now because of that experience.
I would like to call the goal against Atleti “Don’t stop dreaming.” That’s because a goalkeeper, a guy who dreams of being a goalkeeper at the elite level, will never dream of, or at least, will hardly ever think about scoring a goal.
But I want to bring it back to the fact that I played my first match in the Champions League when I was 29 years old, when players are usually thought of as having already arrived at the highest level. And I scored a goal on my debut.
When I think of the Champions League, the first thing that comes to mind – regardless of what I’ve experienced this season – is that it’s a dream I have had since I was a child. Hearing that special music at the beginning and dreaming of maybe one day playing in a final. This is what the Champions League is to me.
So, I would like it to send a message to young guys – in football or any job – that the most important thing is to believe in what you’re doing, even though there will always be many difficulties. And then, even when you least expect it, a turn of events can arrive and make everything even more beautiful, even more than you would have ever expected. Just like in a dream.
Normal time was up. Everybody on the bench was saying the game [against Atlético on Matchday 1] was already over. But you don’t leave any stone unturned. You hope. We deserved an equaliser and I wanted to do something, in any way possible. Without the green light from the bench, though, you can’t go anywhere. Everything happened as it was meant to.
I went forward and Danilo Cataldi took the corner. It started low and, if I’m not mistaken, somebody called for handball. The corner went badly, but fortunately we got the ball back. It was passed to Luis Alberto, who was unmarked on the edge of the box. When he moves inside from that sort of area, he generally aims for the back post, so I threw myself in that direction. If things are meant to happen, they happen. I ran into that space, thinking, “If I get the ball, great.” It hit the net and there was that roar, our outburst of joy that you all saw on screen.
Honestly, explaining it makes it seem like I’m a know-it-all. On the pitch, instinct comes out. You don’t think about it at all. You see an empty space and you move into it. You don’t stop to rationalise it. I’m pretty fatalistic, so I think, “I’ll do what I can. If I can’t get there, then another of my team-mates will.”
When I realised I had scored, it was chaos. I started to run and everybody around me did the same and started celebrating. It was the first match of the group stage, the one that set us on the path for the rest of the competition. That’s why I was so happy. But I was mainly happy not to have lost and to have started well in the group.
I was happy for what I achieved, but I was even more happy to see my team-mates happy because of it. To see someone happy for something that you have done is an incredible feeling and it makes you even happier.
