Why the World’s Worst Team Has the Most Dedicated Fans… Welcome to San Marino

It was a strange feeling, it must be said. 

Sitting in San Marino’s Stadio Olimpico on a calm September evening, watching officially the world’s worst international team, there was a sense of bewilderment. 

The stadium, which is in the Serravalle municipality of the country at the foot of Mount Titano, is surrounded by trees and holds about 6500 fans. Built in 1969, the ground looked about 95% full. 

On the surface, that’s a good turnout considering San Marino’s record in the international arena. However, the strange sensation owed not to the number of people in attendance, but who they were supporting. 

Most were away fans; the little ground was a sea of red-and-black Albania shirts. This was supposed to be a home game for San Marino, but it sure didn’t feel like it.

The only exception was to be found in one small corner. At the end of the Tribuna Nord sat a group of fans who call themselves the Brigata Mai 1 Gioia. The name, meaning Never a Joy Brigade, is a self-deprecating nod to the fact that a San Marino victory is as common as a hybrid solar eclipse. 

Yet the group goes back to 2012. Started by Massimo Visemoli from Reggio Emilia, the aim of the Brigata was to give San Marino support during games, home and away. They are the only official supporters’ group.

There is no tension between the Brigata and fans of the opposition. Handshakes and smiles are shared and pictures are taken, with flags on display and beers bought freely. For the group, community spirit among international football fans is the driving force, and of course, an enjoyable evening.

Getting to the stadium can be a bit tricky depending on which part of town you happen to be staying in. Many fans headed for Borgo Maggiore, a district that lies beneath the historic old town and is closer to the Olimpico. Staying within Città Vecchia means more spectacular views over the terrain, but getting to the ground means a long walk or a taxi post-game, with the bus service only bringing people to the ground, not back again.

It is obvious from the number of cars that getting around the mountain is best done on four wheels, and this is how Destination Calcio arrived after a day of sightseeing in and around the old town.

Outside the stadium, fans from both teams mingled and had a bite to eat or a drink from the vendors, as there are no pubs by the ground. A pint cost €6 and a piadina sandwich – a Sammarinese speciality with cheese and ham – was €8.

Following San Marino isn’t easy. The tiny nation has endured decades of heavy defeats since being thrust into fixtures against Europe’s apex predators such as Germany, Italy, England and the Netherlands in qualifying campaigns following affiliation by FIFA at the end of the 1980s. A very steep learning curve for an international side lacking in professional footballers.

The stats make for a tough read: 61 consecutive defeats across a decade; 54 goals conceded in a single qualifying campaign – their heaviest defeat a 13-0 slaughter by Germany in 2006. Their lowest-ever attendance was a 2-0 loss to fellow minnows Andorra in front of just 60 people in February 2017. They sit bottom of FIFA’s world rankings, 211th out of 211, with only three wins in their history.

And yet members of the Brigata hail from across Europe, with Italy, France, Austria and Germany all represented at the Albania game. An Irishman named Alan was also due to join but was sick and missed out, while an Argentina flag appears on the wall at the back of the stand – a gift from a fan group in Buenos Aires owing to ageing centre-back Dante Rossi being born in the country and young striker Nicolas Giacopetti having Argentine heritage.

Moreover, there’s a range of ages here, with the youngest five and the oldest 72. In the Brigata, everyone is welcome. 

But why do these people travel great distances to support a nation they have no connection to? What is it about San Marino that brings them back? Josef Junker, from the Bavaria region of southern Germany, travels more than 1500 kilometres every time he comes to a game. He’s been a fan for 25 years.

For Paul Le Meur, a 27-year-old from Brittany in France, this is his second time. His first was a 5-1 defeat by Romania in March 2025, yet witnessing a goal was “like an absolute win”. For Paul, there is more intrigue in watching this tiny country than his home nation. 

“I feel like we’re a few guys constantly hoping for the underdog to win,” he said. “I think it’s cooler expecting an unexpected result than going to see France win and it being deemed not good enough.” He’s never been to see Les Bleus play in Paris.

For Marco Brigoli, a 39-year-old Italian from Bologna, his bond with San Marino was formed through computer games. “I’ve been a supporter since the late 1990s and early 2000s. I started playing as San Marino on FIFA, but another reason was that in Bologna we receive the San Marino TV station RTV and I started watching their games,” he said.

Marco made the two-hour trip for the first time in 2017 for a fixture against Moldova and has been following the team regularly since 2018. “I found the Brigata group on Facebook and every time I come to San Marino I watch games with them,” he said. 

His enthusiasm for San Marino, despite being a born-and-bred Italian, shines through each time the home side look threatening. “We’ve won three corners in this game, that’s good,” he said with a massive grin midway through the second half. For a country that doesn’t score many goals, every corner counts.

When asked how many times he’s been to see San Marino at this stage, Marco takes time to do the maths in his head. “I think it’s 54 with this game, it’s definitely over 50.” He has been known watch the Under-21s, too.

He said: “I can walk across the stands and talk to current and old players, take a picture with them or just have a chat. They are just normal people like me. I’ve even played in charity games against some of them. You can’t have that with Italy or other big national teams.”

There is also another element: friendship. Marco and Paul talk about the bond they’ve created with other members of the Brigata, no matter the background, language or nationality. “We’re in touch often, despite it being hard to meet up outside of the season,” Marco explained. “But I’ve made lifelong friends through the Brigata.”

When Marco travels to games, it is usually by car with Daniele Dei, another Italian, from Empoli, who now lives in Modena. Daniele has, since the departure of founder Massimo in 2022, become the ‘chief’ of the group, the organiser. He turns up with a megaphone, a drum, and his five-year-old daughter Daria, who gets high-fives from Albania fans and is just as committed to the Brigata as her dad, singing and running up and around the seats during the game.

Daniele, 42, who is the press officer for a hospital in Modena, came to know the Brigata by chance in 2017 after a friendly between Italy and San Marino in Tuscany. After being told who the group of away fans creating the atmosphere were, despite San Marino being on the receiving end of an 8-0 demolition, he was intrigued. He went to his first game in San Marino a year later and has never looked back.

Daniele, like Marco and Paul, speaks of the friendship that’s been created since joining the Brigata. “It’s become like a second family,” he said, with a bond forged not just through a love of San Marino and football, but also over geography, a curiosity for the world and connecting with fans from other nations over a beer.

The Brigata have carried out fundraisers for hospitals, with one done for Modena and another in the works for San Marino. “It’s great to collaborate with friends who live life in the same way,” Daniele said.

Albania win this one at a canter, 3-0 without needing to shift through the gears. Their fans made a noise, as did the Brigata, who, to their immense credit, continued to shout, sing and bang their drums for the entire game despite being massively outnumbered inside their own stadium. There could be no more than 15 members spurring the team on.

Marco doesn’t understand the general apathy among locals for their own nation. “There’s not a lot of passion from the Sammarinese (for the team), and I find that strange,” he said. “Some have told me they’ve lost faith in the team and are tired of losing games.”

Seeing San Marino win isn’t really what the Brigata is about. It’s about giving the team vocal support no matter the end result. Yet even with the small degree of progress on the field, Marco will continue to follow them. “You can see things are changing due to the amount of goals we’re now starting to score, and one day I’d like to see us win a European qualifier,” he said. “We aren’t in the last pot anymore, so we can play teams at our level.”

While Paul isn’t a regular, he loves the San Marino experience and knows he’ll be back. “Whatever happens, I know I’ll be happy about the match, and that’s not something I feel about my own national side,” he said.

Daniele will continue to attend matches despite juggling work and family commitments. “I don’t get to stay in San Marino often anymore, usually I drive straight back after games. But the passion for San Marino outweighs the tiredness,” he said with a smile.

What does he want to see happen in the future? “I’d like us to play teams at our level – countries like Gibraltar, Liechtenstein and Andorra – to suffer fewer defeats and for the young players in the squad to improve over time. I also want the Brigata, the Federation and the team to keep pulling in the same direction and continue the momentum of the great football history that San Marino has.”

As the evening ends and fans perform what can only be described as a circular dancing ritual outside the stadium in front of bemused onlookers, the members of the Brigata know it won’t be long until they’re back, cheering on the world’s worst team.