ROVERS: Magnificent Sven

"HOW beautiful are my Samp", asked Sven Goran Eriksson after the game.

"It's fantastic," cried the ecstatic reporter to my right as Sampdoria outclassed so emphatically the team from Veneto that 2-1 did them an injustice.

Eriksson's squad continue to astonish proclaimed La Gazzetta dello Sport - with good reason as the victory over Vicenza took them to fourth in Serie A.

Tactically brilliant and committed to the task, Sampdoria made this game a wholesale destruction.

Three times in the second half, twice late in the match as Vicenza tried to rally, Samp fans in the Gradinata Sud confiscated the ball, determined to assist their team in more concrete terms than vocally.

They need not have bothered for the visitors were finding it tough enough to take hold of the ball while it remained in play.

Sven Goran's body language was considerably more restrained. He sat on the extreme right of the Sampdoria bench for most of it, his light blue eyes rarely deviating from the action.

His face was such a picture of concentration that if his wife were to have walked in front of him he would probably not have recognised her.

Occasionally, he stood up and strode to the sideline to issue further instructions to skipper Roberto Mancini or words of encouragement into the ear of an oncoming substitute, all three of which he used late.

The final one, Vincenzo Lacopino, was booked before setting foot on the field for time-wasting. A win at all cost shape of things to come?

Not even in the final seven minutes, after Marcelo Otero's penalty cut menacingly into Sampdoria's lead, did Eriksson lose his cool, a trait that has been interpreted by some Samp fans as just plain cold.

Unflappable is probably more apt.

But unless you gesticulate with passion and speak every sentence with a decibel range from one to 100, you will always be treated with some suspicion by the Italians.

No doubt this is due to their own volatile nature, expressed most conspicuously on the roads where the only rule is that there are none and the abilty to drive at breakneck speed (while leaving both hands free to gesticulate) is something you either master - or you catch the bus. They can get fairly worked up about their football too, generating a joyous atmosphere of song and tribal chanting at the Luigi Ferraris Stadium which could in an instant be transformed into a seething outpouring of hate.

When Mancini was fouled early in the game the fans, in unison, began to point their fingers threateningly and shout: "Vaffanculo", the translation of which, according to my friend Damiano Basso of La Gazzetta, might not be appropriate in a family newspaper.

News of the Blackburn arrivals, myself and photographer Jonathan Barry, had spread fast and, in a country renowned for its expressions of warmth and goodwill - totally merited I hasten to add, friends were easy to make.

Our Italian wasn't too good, abysmal when compared to their grasp of English, but we spoke the universal language of football.

All we had to utter was the word Blackburn and suddenly their eyes would light up in acknowledgement: "Ah, Blackburn, Eriksson, Sampdoria-Vicenza, welcome."

In deference to the country's fashion, and the heavy rainfall which swelled the riverbanks and was incessant through our stay, I wore a black overcoat and matching flat cap which made me look like the young Don Corleone.

Several plates of pasta later I was developing the contours of old Corleone but, fortunately for my waistline, our Italian job was to last just three days. That was time enough to gauge that attitudes varied as to Eriksson's accomplishments with Sampdoria - but there was widespread recognition of his ability as a coach.

There was no better evidence of his capabilities than on the field against Vicenza.

Mancini, so worshipped by supporters that his departure would see the Sampdoria fans declare independence for Genoa before mounting an assault on the offending party, was inspirational.

He was the constant target and, whether he was executing flamboyant backheels, firing over incisive crosses or heading strongly at the far post to the foot of a fellow player, so much of Sampdoria's game involved their main man.

Vincenzo Montella provided the cutting edge to a conventional four-four-two formation which became four-three-three whenever they attacked by thrusting forward Carparelli.

The 22-year-old Montella caused shocks by moving from Genoa, the Second Division team so proud of their status as the oldest club in Italy, to city rivals Sampdoria earlier this year. He scored Samp's first goal from just inside the penalty area on the half-volley with his right.

The second, the culmination of a superb move involving Mancini and a breathtaking ball from Juan Sebastian Veron - so precise that it split apart Vicenza's defence, Montella tucked away from similar range with the favoured left.

This was Serie A at its finest.

But, even those who withheld absolute approval of the Swede, accepted that he has not been as fortunate as predecessor Vujadin Boskov.

He was the only man to bring the Serie A title to Sampdoria.

Sampdoria have mostly been a selling club and lost their star performer Gianluca Vialli shortly after Eriksson's arrival.

Money should be no problem at Blackburn Rovers and Eriksson's stature in the Italian game almost guarantees the arrival to Ewood Park of some Serie A stars.

Whether that means a Roberto Mancini depends perhaps on Jack Walker's nerve.

Ewood Park might indeed become a fortress with Mancini in the side but it would need to be.

Half a million Genoese would be over, trying earnestly to knock it to rubble.

I'll follow Sven says Mihajlovic - see separate story

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