WE'RE upstairs in the canteen at the training ground in New Malden awaiting the start of the meeting. Usual chit chat dies down when the gaffer -hands out an itinerary for the upcoming pre-season trip to Monza, Italy. The usual jokes are made towards the less intellectual, 'can we have an itinerary with just pictures on it?' For us, a League Two club, we are lucky to be able get abroad for training during pre-season. This is my first time travelling to Italy for training and it's very exciting.

The gaffer, as organised and meticulous as ever, runs through the week schedule. Leave Monday, double session on Tuesday, team bonding on Wednesday, double session Thursday, session Friday afternoon which is open to the fans, game v our hosts Monza on the Saturday, function afterwards in smart casual wear and then fly back on the Sunday.

What causes the most questions and concern among the lads is not the double training sessions or what's involved in the team bonding or the flight times commuting to and from the airport - it's the smart-casual shout for the Saturday evening function after the game. What to wear? Will the heat be a factor? Will we be allowed out after? Is it a sit-down meal?

The Monday we fly at 18.50,  I'm picked up by one of the lads and very kindly dropped to Heathrow by his father.  We arrive early with the threat of excessive fines for late for travel arrangements ringing in our ears. The Kent crew are already there having arrived in a mini bus.

We wait and passports are handed out and pictures laughed at, questions raised over hair style choices. Another senior pro and I discuss how we can't be trusted to have our passports, we find this funny as we go through the normal procedure of checking in and dropping off bags, some are concerned they have packed too little or too much in comparison to others. I think I have my boots and shin guards - all else can be bought out there and replaced!

After a forgettable airport meal, we board and take over the back half of the airplane. A few players fall asleep and pictures are taken of them. One of the lads decides to wake another one with a kiss on the lips, all taken in on camera phone. Taking team bonding to an extreme!

We land and are taken by shuttle to the main building and are hit by a wall of heat and and first encounter with the mosquito, nasty little fellas who attack very selectively. We go through with nothing to declare, except one of the lads who declares that he left his passport back on the runway in the plane, heads are shaken, jokes are made, we cannot be trusted to hold our own passports!

Outside and onto the bus and off into the Italian night we go. The gaffer gives me the rooming list for the week, this is important because it's a long time to spend in another persons company, even the most loving of couples will have a quarrel or two in that length of time. I quietly ask individually if they are ok with room mates not wanting to start a slagging match off, a few minor changes and everybody is happy.

We reach our hotel and tired minds and bodies fall out of the bus and into reception. The receptionist is waiting on one more booking, but not a group of 30. It's the wrong hotel, not a good start by Rafa our bus driver (named so because of his likeness to an ex Liverpool & interim Chelsea manager). Abuse is shouted from the back of the bus, a language barrier saving us from a potentially explosive situation! 

We know our hotel is above a shopping centre. It becomes apparent Rafa's not sure where he's going, and after three attempts and bucket loads of abuse, we are finally rescued by a member of the hotel staff in a car who motions us to follow them. More abuse for Rafa as we dismount, up to the room, long day and collapse into bed.

Morning alarm clock goes off and it's down for breakfast in training gear, Tuesday double session and the lads are ready to start putting the work in. We sit down and have some cereal and try to enjoy the foreign milk, it's never the same. One of the lads in his slowest and clearest English asks the waiter for a green tea. The waiter replies in a London east end accent 'yeah no problem mate'.  Apparently he came out on holiday, met a girl, 15 years later he's still here, a male Shirley Valentine.

After breakfast I head to the physio room for a strapping on my ankle and to get a few trigger points in my calves worked on before training.

While on pre-season tour timings for meals and travel have to be made, late or wrong dress attire will be frowned upon and will be have financial penalties. So I hurry down to meet the bus with my roomie doing a check list before leaving, you would think it's just boots, but add to take protein shaker, water with hydration tablets added, heart rate strap, flip flops for shower, towel and a change of clothes for after training.

We arrive at AC Monza's training ground, the training ground for footballers in comparison to a home is the kitchen. The day-to-day living, the preparation, the sweating and cursing occurs, the closeness of the group is here and like any house-proud person you immediately compare yours to theirs.

The stadium on the other hand is the 'good room' where guests are brought to if they visit the your home, it's not used as frequently as the kitchen. A decent set up, pitches are good, except the toliets are those continental older types which are a hole in the floor - we do enough squats in training in our pre-hab so I don't fancy doing any more while using the loo!

First session done and there was a bit of a bite to training, except the only one's being bitten were us. The mossies were enjoying the buffet. Temperatures in the 30s, the sweat was constant and free flowing, we're in the dressing room after the session sweating, we shower, sweat, dry off, sweat, head down stairs to the canteen for food, sweat, sit down, sweat. We're treated to lovely food at the training ground, fresh, healthy and simple. It's a joy. Eat and sweat.

It's customary on tour or the first time a new lad is on an overnight away trip that new lads joining the group must perform the initiation song. One senior pro grabs the opportunity to get it done early and after lunch jumps up on the man-made stage (a chair) and turns into Don McLean performs the first verse and chorus of American Pie , everyone knows the chorus and this is key for the lads to join in and sing and sweat, applause, sweat, onto the bus, hello to Rafa and back to hotel.

At 5pm we meet in reception and board the bus for the evening session. The heat and mossies feel like they have both increased and this session is the fitness session, a few of the lads enjoy a mid-training mossies snack. But the intensity and desire and work rate is good and we plough on and get the work done. Sweat, shower, sweat, dry off, sweat, hello to locals watching training, sweat, hello to Rafa, sweat, into hotel.

Down for dinner which is lovely, quick trip to the supermarket across the road for some water and a quick ice cream then back to fall into bed. Me and my roomie have an understanding, he plays candy crush and I watch the BBC series Luther on ipad. It's important to build up routine to avoid boredom, other roomies takes baths (not together) and read, watch box sets or movies, play cards, become like an old couple and argue constantly, try to play pranks on each but fail. Things to pass away the time.

Wednesday and it's team bonding day and we're off to Milan for a look around. We spend a few hours wandering the streets, we come across the Duomo di Milano, which is a big impressive gothic cathedral, central to milan. We decide against the 17 euro and 250 steps to the top and opt instead for the busy and vibrant square in front of it with a few cafes around it.

We find a spot in the shade to sit and and have a coffee and watch the world go by. The price of drinks bring us out in a sweat again. We relax and chat and people watch and then we notice a loud and colourful march or protest emerging from the far corner of the square. With austerity and cuts rampant throughout Europe I presume this might be the cause which they are marching for.

It turns out they were protesting against the very cafe and shop behind us we were sitting in! So a 50-60 strong protest with whistles, flags, colour and chanting, entertains us for a while, we are given literature about their cause but our Italian (Ciao and grazie) doesn't seem to help translate it. We conclude it must be the price of the drinks they're protesting, finish and pay.

After an Italian lunch of bread and pizza it's hello to Rafa and back to the hotel. That evening after dinner the singing began again and this time, Peter Andre Mysterious Girl started us off with a solid performance, Micheal Jackson Rock with you with backround music provided by an iphone, Stu from hangover with the song Best Friend Doug brought a smile to a few faces, Oasis Roll With It was butchered, Jamiroquai Virtual Insanity was heartfelt, Shrek Now I'm a Believer was rudely interrupted by the waiter placing cutlery on the table in front of him and finally rounded off by I am the Music Man, which had its own dance routine and full use of the entire restaurant.

After the applause had died down a quiz began and smiles turned to frowns and clapping turned to head scratching. The quizmaster gaffer kept the topics pretty relevant to his contestants - there was no politics or history or science and nature rounds, it was sport and movies. The winning team were rampant in their victory and not gracious at all. The worst team were the butt of all jokes and fingers were pointed. Back to the rooms with Candy crush and Luther .

Thursday morning breakfast, strange milk, morning to the geezer waiter, physio room, hello to Rafa and off to training. The pre-training head tennis competition was hotting up with excessive celebrations of each point won becoming a chance to wind up opposition; tantrums being thrown, and at the end laps of honour, victory songs and fake team photos being taken got us in the mood for serious work of the session.

Gallons of water taken on during and after training, finish, sweat, shower, sweat, eat, sweat, hello Rafa, sweat, hotel. Collapse into bed, alarm, wake, physio room, reception, hello Rafa, off to training ground. Evening session stiff, sweating and sore bodies are put to work. Finish, same routine and back to the hotel for dinner and a productive group meeting about aims, targets and thoughts for the season after me and my roomie can't even entertain Candy crush and Luther tonight it's bed early.

Friday morning and it's the day before the game so it's only an afternoon session. In the morning we visit AC Milan and Inter Milan's good room, the San Siro. Robbie Williams is coming to town so the pitch is being turned into a venue. We get a tour, but besides the dressing rooms the museum and club shop/cabin is disappointing.

Being a central defender though the AC Milan side of the museum is powerful, among only a few clubs where central defenders are genuine superstars of the team. Of course they have had incredible forwards, but the defending is adored and celebrated and held in equal if not higher regard. It's beautiful.

That afternoon session is an open session for both fans to turn up and I think it's a great idea and should be done more. The session is a good work out and after we go over and meet the AFC Wimbledon supporters who have travelled to watch us play, and the locals who are interested. The locals ask me who our best players are and I ask them about their best players. Both clubs have similarities in that they play in the fourth tier in their country, both have had past former glories, both are on the path back after financial and other problems, so it should be interesting. I sweat some more and bid them good luck and leave. Hello to Rafa, dinner, Luther then bed.

Saturday morning and it's game day. The game isn't kicking off until 6.30 so we do a morning session and a bit of head tennis and the final bout of over celebrating is brought to a quick end when the gaffer starts to name the starting line-up. Not even the mossies could break concentration of the lads while it's being called out and the set pieces are being run through.

We're ready. A final lunch at the training ground and a massive thank you to the staff and a few signed jerseys given as a small gesture of our gratitude and Rafa takes us to hotel.

At 5pm we meet at reception with all our gear ready to go, the blast of heat as we leave the hotel is immense. We arrive at a ground which is old European in its style, this good room has seen better days. We go through our pre-match routines to get us ready to get out for our warm up, back in and final preparations.

Pre-match exchanges between myself and the other captain of flowers and pennants and the game is under way. The game itself was ok, we played well first half unlucky to go in a goal down, but the heat and fatigue caught up with us. Second half with a mass of changes the game became disjointed and we ended up losing 3-0. Not the result we wanted, but better now than next week when points are at stake. After the game there is disappointment and this is good, we want to win.

We shower, change, fight the sweat, put on our smart-casual wear, comments are made, on the bus and head to restaurant where we eat and are allowed some wine, the setting is picturesque. We relax, unwind and enjoy ourselves. Our hosts had been incredible and we are treated very well.

Back onto the bus and the suggestion is made for those who were too shy to sing previously, now the help of some dutch courage provided by the couple of glasses of red wine they might grab the mic and try now. Andy Williams stood up and dedicated his song You're Just Too Good To Be True to another lad. Ron Burgundy sang Afternoon Delight and a die-hard Hammers fan sang I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles which nearly caused a riot on the bus. Rafa got loads of love for letting this happen as he dropped us off at hotel.

Sunday we meet for breakfast and have a debrief meeting about the game, and the week in general and week ahead. We thank the hotel staff, pay bills which causes sweat and leave. Bodies are sore and tired and are anxious to get home to see loved ones. Rafa brings us direct to the airport this time, in a quarter of the time it took us to get from the airport. He's thanked and given a signed jersey which he seems happy with. Through the airport, people stare at crest on chest, passport responsibility given back to us. The flight home was very bumpy and nervous fliers thanked whichever god upon landing.

Home to start into a final week preparation for Torquay away and the season kick off, we can't wait. Ciao!

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