Naples pulsates with energy, a city steeped in history, culture, and of course, football. But beyond the famous stadiums and tourist hotspots lies a different kind of football story, one unfolding in the heart of the city, offering hope and a future to over a hundred children. This is the story of Spartak San Gennaro, a free football school that defies conventional norms and proves that sport can be a powerful engine for social change.
Unlike football clubs defined by their trophies, styles, or even geography, Spartak San Gennaro is best described as an idea – a dynamic concept that grows and evolves on the very streets it serves. It’s a school of many things, using football not just to teach skills with a ball, but to impart rules, foster freedom, and combat the “idleness” that, as Argentinian football master Jorge Bernardo Griffa wisely noted, is the enemy of evolution. Here, socio-economic background, gender, beliefs, and local rivalries melt away. What truly matters is the dribble, the team, and the sheer joy of playing.
The origins of Spartak San Gennaro are as unique as its mission. It sprang from a spontaneous protest by children on the steps of a church. A woman, Stefania Sessa, unlike a more rigid figure, recognized the profound truth: if kids were playing, they weren`t getting into trouble. If they were playing, they had less time for idleness, and most importantly, if they were playing, they dared to dream. Stefania`s insight converged with Luigi Volpe, known as Chicco, one of the children who hadn`t had this opportunity in the past, but who understood as an adult what he had missed.
The physical space for this dream arrived thanks to the former Filangieri juvenile prison, where Chicco had once been held. Years after its closure, the building was occupied and transformed into the Scugnizzo Liberato (Freed Street Kid), a vital social center. This provided the setting for the kids` protest to take root – a field, and a team. The name itself, Spartak San Gennaro, is a symbolic fusion: “Spartak” representing rebellion and collective spirit (perhaps with a nod to Soviet ideals), and “San Gennaro” grounding it firmly in the Neapolitan identity.
Noise and Hope
From twenty kids in 2017, the project has grown to over a hundred. They don`t just play football; they make noise, spread hope, and show others that they are not alone. This extends beyond Naples; Spartak is twinned with the Al Haddaf Team, a children`s team in Beit Lahia, northern Gaza. The field where Chicco once spent his hour of air now hosts a team of freedom with a powerful social message, even holding a poignant Neapolitan funeral for Mohammed Al Sultan and Ba-haa, coach and player of Al Haddaf, killed by bombings, scattering a thousand red poppies on the Ventaglieri field.
Talent needs a place to flourish, to showcase virtues and hide flaws. Spartak San Gennaro provides the crucial confidence many kids desperately need. It opens minds and lungs, loosens legs, and teaches them to side-step challenges without falling. The ball rolls, they have fun, and in the process, they build a future. Football, as Jonathan Franzen wrote in “Freedom,” provides answers: once those feelings are deeply ingrained, “you knew the Answer to the Question, the Answer was the Team, and every insignificant personal worry was put aside.”
This spirit is palpable at the Parco Ventaglieri field in the Montesanto district. The field feels carved out of a volcano crater, nestled between a tufa wall, trees, and buildings. Training sessions are a blend of organized chaos and pure passion. Each face tells a story, each story a novel. It`s a team that, unlike many others, charges no fees – a free football school participating in championships for three age categories in the province of Naples, yet training on concrete because they lack a proper pitch. Alessandro Ventura, 43, a teacher by morning and coach (“Sasà” to the kids) from afternoon until sunset, is a firm believer in the project.
“I met Luigi Volpe, one of our directors, who told me about a free football school project that had started a few months earlier,” Alessandro recounts. “I accepted immediately. I liked the idea of being able to create a football project centered on at-risk kids, those left on the margins.” But training on concrete, taking turns due to limited space, is increasingly difficult. “Last year, we applied for a bid to use a field in the Capodimonte district. We were among the winners, but we didn`t expect to have to pay €12,000 a year. If the mayor and the council would approve an exemption for a non-profit like us, we would have solved almost all our problems.” Sasà pragmatically outlines what`s needed, lamenting that while many talk about Spartak, concrete help is scarce. One might arch an eyebrow at the bureaucracy hindering such a vital community initiative.
Dreams and Idols
The determination needed to overcome these challenges is embodied by the team captain, Alessandra Cacchione. Nearly 12 years old, blonde with a ponytail, Miyazaki-like eyes, and a right foot that leaves goalkeepers rooted, she scored 26 goals this season. She mixes reading De Amicis with showcasing her best goals on her phone, idolizing Dries Mertens. Her talent hasn`t gone unnoticed; she`s been picked by Napoli Women. She`s described as solid, determined, and ready. Another player, Lilia Tomas, 11, with more delicate, Eastern features and recently joined, says she prefers dribbling to scoring to help others, though her relative newness is apparent. Her idol is David Neres, but she plays as a defender.
Giovanna Esposito, 10, also plays in defense, as a central defender. Her idol is Lionel Messi: “When I dribble, I`m happy, I feel like him. I take free kicks, but when I grow up, I want to be a dentist or a lawyer.” Vittorio De Stengo, 11, a blend of superheroes loving both Messi and Batman, plays in Lakers shorts and a Napoli shirt – chaos is his specialty. “My plan A is to be a footballer, plan B a boxer, plan C I can`t tell you.” Francesco Mazzocchi, 12, a blonde fullback on either side, idolizes Cristiano Ronaldo and has only one plan: “To win, I want to win, play and win.” He says it with a smile that softens his resolve.
Interestingly, none of the children mention an Italian football idol. Their relationship with the national team seems akin to Americans` view of distant Russian satellites. The only coach besides Sasà they`d accept is Antonio Conte. Dribbling is their religion, and they seem truly like “Christians under the Roman Empire” given the scarcity of Italian dribblers in Serie A. While Napoli is their local horizon and often their team to support, Messi is the ultimate example for many, with Yamal starting to challenge his leadership. They come from diverse families, rich and poor, but on the field – named after Mohammed Al Sultan and Ba-haa – they are all equal.
Their stories are briefly interrupted by Dario Romano, 10, an attacker eager to share, “I broke my arm, that`s why I only played three games, but I scored two goals.” Gabriele Zaccone, 13, a left-footed defender known as Zac, chooses Yamal for his mentality, admitting no family comes to watch him, which he says is “better, because when I play football it`s like when I kiss a girl” – romantic, decisive, quiet, clean in his tackles. The other Yamal enthusiast is Ettore Errico, 8, with a bandage over his left eyebrow arch, a red shirt, and a corsair`s gaze. He loves dribbling and Mané Garrincha (“my father showed me a documentary, oh, I know Pelé too! Look, five minutes ago I hit the crossbar!”). His brother Ernesto, 11, prefers Nico Williams. Together, they could be characters out of a novel.
The enthusiasm of the Spartak San Gennaro kids is boundless. They alternate between the field and the bench, words and the ball, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of a volcano crater or a fictional football ground. They may lack a perfect pitch or consistent institutional support, but they possess something far more valuable: a vibrant community, shared dreams, and the resilience forged on a concrete field in the heart of Naples. Spartak San Gennaro is a powerful testament to how football, when approached with passion and social purpose, can truly change lives.