Milano Cortina Olympics - women's hockey, USA-Switzerland (09-02-2026)

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It was supposed to be a quiet day, relaxing after the Super Bowl, but instead it turned out to be the most exciting day so far. While waiting for the evening hockey game (I had chosen to watch only one evening event so I could rest after the Super Bowl night), I wandered around the city centre to see traces of the Olympics outside the competition venues.

The first installation I saw was Alibaba in Largo Cairoli, with a queue made up almost entirely of Asians. Then I crossed the Sforza Castle and saw the Esselunga and Coca Cola booths, both with long lines, but the latter even more so. That’s how I arrived at the Fan Zone, and I have to say I expected more: I was thinking of something like the Doha World Cup Fan Zone, but this one is much smaller. Still, there are some interesting things, even though I didn’t try any because of the queues: a mini curling (not on ice), a video game about alpine skiing where you move your legs like in the real sport, and a big screen broadcasting the Italy-USA curling semifinal. I also entered an official store for the first time and discovered that the merchandise is probably the best I’ve ever seen for a sporting event. I’ll have to think carefully about what to buy—there’s so much to choose from (even a coffee maker...).

I then saw Casa Italia: I stopped for a moment at the entrance because I wasn’t sure if it was open to ordinary spectators, but then I saw others entering and nobody stopped them—at least the ground floor was open to everyone. I saw two panels: one with Italy’s medals up to today, and one with all the medalists in the history of the Winter Olympics, in alphabetical order. Emotional to see, even if they looked like war memorials. I also saw the Olympic cauldron and here, although I’d obviously seen it on TV, it looked strange to me—it didn’t feel like an Olympic cauldron.

I saw a city decorated for the Olympics, and it wasn’t the first time, but the excitement was because it was my birthplace. That’s how regret grows, and curses on mayor Raggi, for not being able to see Rome like this too. Heading back towards the Duomo, I had considered visiting Casa Slovakia, which is in the area (I’d seen the ad on Facebook), but I realized it was late: I needed to eat quickly and then head to the Santa Giulia Arena.

On the subway, I met a group of Italian-speaking Swiss (who, however, sang chants in French), wearing the national team jersey. At Rogoredo you take the shuttle: there’s a crowd, and I suppose you have to line up and the shuttles leave in order, but instead one opens up behind and I get on right away. There’s a line at the security checkpoint too—it’s the first time I really feel the crowd. They remind you that you can’t bring food or drinks: I hurry to finish my drink.

The line lasts about ten minutes. As you exit, you start to see the venue, and it looks like an American arena—it reminds me of the Brooklyn Nets arena (where I went years ago, before this blog started). I enter and I’m really impressed: a modern facility that I didn’t expect to see in Italy, reminiscent of American ones and also some from the Paris Olympics, like the swimming venue. There are even escalators, the first time I’ve seen them in an Italian sports venue. I also see the “future market” sign and, like many, wonder what it is: they are food points, but very technological, as I’ll see later.

I enter the arena and I’m surprised to find many empty seats, considering the crowd at the entrance. But it will fill up, even during the game: in the end, only a couple of blocks in the first tier and one corner of the second will remain empty. You see mostly Swiss fans, but when the teams are presented, the Americans will make themselves heard too. Taking my seat, I notice the only flaw (for what I saw of the arena): as many have said, the screen is a bit small (by modern standards) and from the higher seats the view is also obstructed.

I’m in the third-to-last row, behind a goal, which in the first half is the USA’s. I can still see the other side well, or at least enough to understand what’s happening—I’ll never use the binoculars. Of course, the goal nearest to me isn’t as visible as in Rho. From this position, you can also see the tactics well, but I don’t have the expertise to appreciate them. The USA starts attacking, but Switzerland responds immediately: American dominance, but it’s not a one-sided game like the one against Finland.

After 6 minutes, someone claims my seat and I realize I’m in the wrong block: while I move to the correct one, the USA scores. At the 13th minute, someone claims that seat too: I was also in the wrong row (misread it). I finally settle into the row above: next to me is an Italian who seems an expert and cheers for the USA (I later gather he has an American mother). At the moment of the goal, shots were 7 to 3 for the USA; after a period of American dominance, by the end of the first half it’s 18 to 6, but the score remains 1-0.

During the first intermission, I take a walk, visit the store, but skip the food areas—too crowded. In the second period, the USA keeps attacking but only scores after 14 minutes. There isn’t much cheering: the Swiss try a few chants, my neighbor complains that the Americans don’t reply. The period ends 2-0. In the second intermission, I go out immediately and manage to find the “future market” without any lines. You enter by scanning your credit card: I hear they charge you at the beginning and then adjust based on what you actually took, but I didn’t understand how they understand what you took—there’s no check at the exit (I didn’t check my charges). I get a “signature burger,” which an attendant warns is spicy: good, but small, especially considering it costs 12 euros.

Play resumes and the Americans start strong, scoring two goals in three minutes, but the second, a long shot, is disallowed by VAR for interference with the goalie. This time, the American fans make themselves heard. Three minutes later, two more goals come in just over a minute, and that’s how it ends: 5-0.

At the exit there is a gate with the word ‘exit’ written on it, which leads to a wide avenue, but I am perplexed because I notice that it is not the direction we came from. The volunteers explain that this is the direction to take the shuttles. There is a queue: at a couple of points, volunteers regulate traffic with “stop” and ‘go’ signs. Those who want to walk can still turn right: if I had had my ankle braces, I might have done so myself. The queue for the shuttles is disorderly, as it was on the way there: there is no order, the shuttles open at random, and I get one quite quickly. They don't fill them up much: compared to Rome at rush hour, there is still plenty of room.