There are players whose careers trace a straight line from academy to stardom, and then there are those who take the scenic route. Jari Vandeputte is among the latter with the Belgian winger’s path winding through three countries, five clubs, and countless small triumphs before finally reaching the Italian topflight.

Born in Ghent in 1996, Vandeputte came through the academy of his hometown club, KAA Gent, and even made his debut in Belgium’s top division as a teenager. But opportunities were scarce, and like so many young players in competitive academies, he had to look elsewhere for his chance to grow. At 18 he was sent on loan to Roeselare which was followed by two years in the Netherlands with FC Eindhoven, offering the kind of regular football that sharpens a player’s edges but rarely propels him straight to stardom.

The real turning point came when he moved to Italy in 2017 to join Viterbese in Serie C. It was an unlikely destination for a Belgian winger still in his early twenties, one forced on him when his contract at Gent was not renewed, but it became the foundation of everything that followed.

At Viterbese he learned the rhythms of Italian football; the tactical rigidity, the physical duels, and the relentless demands of lower-league survival. Ninety appearances and dozens of goal contributions later, he had established himself as a player who could adapt, compete, and deliver.

A move to Vicenza brought him into Serie B and closer to the level he had always aimed for, though the path was still uneven. In Italy, few players enjoy a straight ascent. There are promotions and relegations, loans and bench spells, flashes of promise followed by hard resets. For Vandeputte, that cycle eventually led to Catanzaro, where everything finally clicked.

In Calabria he found not just a team, but a home. Over two seasons he became their creative heartbeat, driving them to promotion from Serie C and then to an impressive Serie B campaign that turned heads across the league. Nine goals and fourteen assists in a single season made him one of the division’s standout performers, In the red and yellow shirt he emerged as the kind of player who dictated tempo, opened up defences, and lifted those around him.

His blend of vision, movement, and tenacity made him the sort of winger every promotion-chasing side wants, and Cremonese came calling.

The move in 2024 was both a reward and a risk. Cremonese were aiming to bounce back to Serie A, and Vandeputte arrived on loan with an obligation to buy; a clear sign of faith. He didn’t disappoint. Four goals and thirteen assists later, Cremonese were celebrating promotion, and Vandeputte’s transfer became permanent.

When they clinched their return to Serie A, his reaction said it all: joy, relief, and the quiet pride of a man who had climbed every rung of the ladder.

On the opening day of the 2025–26 season, Vandeputte made his Serie A debut in a 2–1 win away to AC Milan, a dream that, for a time, might have seemed out of reach.

It was the culmination of years spent grinding through the lesser-watched corners of European football, far from the glamour of big stadiums and TV cameras. His rise was not meteoric but methodical, built on persistence rather than hype.

In an age obsessed with prodigies and instant success, Vandeputte’s story is a wholesome and welcome one. It reminds us that football still has room for stories like his, not ones of overnight fame but of endurance, patience, and quiet belief. Some careers are slow-burn triumphs. And the game is all the better for them.

Because that’s what this really is, a kind of performative art. The camera is always on, and so is the person in front of it.

The format has exploded, with countless imitators trying to follow in the footsteps of Mark Goldbridge, the godfather of watchalongs. It’s not a coincidence that Mark Goldbridge isn’t his real name. The persona came first, a character built for reaction, rhythm, and rage.

His mix of sharp phrasing and comic timing gave the genre its voice. But for every Goldbridge who can twist frustration into something genuinely witty, there are dozens who can only mimic the outrage.

What stands out is that these channels usually find their audience when their teams are doing badly. The anger is the attraction. Their vocabulary leans heavily on insults; their rhythm thrives on fury. They rely on exaggerated emotion to fill the gaps where humour or insight might otherwise go.

And perhaps that’s the secret: they need the chaos. The defeats, the dodgy signings, the managerial drama. Those are the moments that generate clips, retweets, attention. You get the sense that, deep down, some of them are almost hoping for things to go wrong not because they hate their club, but because success is boring content.

I’ve seen a few of these appear around the club I follow, Liverpool. To be fair, they were probably there last season, quietly streaming into the void while the team was doing well. But joy doesn’t go viral. Rage does.

So here they are now, name-calling players, mocking new signings, ridiculing those who brought them in. Performing fandom rather than feeling it.

There’s plenty about the modern game that I don’t understand. Again, that’s probably a factor of age. Usually I just ignore it and file it away as something that doesn’t concern me. But then I see people on Twitter calling for a manager who won the title last season to be sacked at the first sign of difficulty, and I realise this mindset runs deep. These are people who almost need him to fail, just so they can say they were right.

What’s worse, I see it bleeding beyond online channels. The other week, a young fan sitting next to me shouted at Conor Bradley for some perceived mistake, not criticism of an error, but rejection of the player himself. Not good enough. In that instant, I saw a reflection of the watchalong artists who delight in tearing players apart for entertainment.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. You see this kind of behaviour everywhere now, especially in politics, where there’s no room for nuance and your opponents are automatically idiots.

I’d hoped football could be different. But it’s starting to look like it isn’t.

Cultured Football cuts through transfer gossip and noise to share football writing worth your time. Each week, we pick five stories that inform, surprise, and remind you why the game matters.

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Regardless of how old I get, I keep getting surprised by how fickle football - and fate - can be.

Back in 2021 - that's just four years ago - Florian Neuhaus was one of the most wanted midfielders in world football. Touted as the closest thing Germany had produced to Toni Kroos since Kroos himself, clubs were lining up for him. Borussia Mönchengladbach, unsurprisingly, had no interest in selling their star.

What really kept him there, though, was the post-Covid market. Most clubs were still reeling financially, the transfer market was a depressed one and no club made an offer big enough to tempt Mönchengladbach.

So Neuhaus stayed. Which was fine. Until he suffered a partial ACL injury in September of 2022 that cost him a spot in the German squad for the 2022 World Cup and, in hindsight, derailed his career.

He was never the same player after that injury; his mobility was never the same and he last just enough pace to make him more of a liability than an asset at the centre of the park. The clubs that had been looking at him moved away and, eventually, even Moenchengladbach lost faith.

To a point. They stopped playing him - last season he made just 17 appearances and most of them came from the bench - yet he was still among their best paid players.

That much emerged was revealed by Neuhaus himself when he was filmed (visibly drunk) commenting how Moenchengladbach's sporting director Roland Virkus 'is the worst sporting director in the world' citing his own €4 million annual salary as proof.

One can admire the self-deprecating humour. Unless you're involved in running (or even supporting) Moenchengladbach. Which they clearly didn't, suspending and fining the player.

Next up is a move but, this time round, there are no European giants lining up for him. Instead, his most likely destination looks like the 2 Bundesliga.

He’s 28. Not old. Not done. But almost. And certainly nowhere near where anyone expected him to be in 2021.

Four years ago, he was tipped to be Germany’s midfield metronome. Today, he’s a cautionary tale of timing, injury, and how quickly football forgets.

Fickle, indeed.

Every Saturday, Cultured Football brings you five great football articles you will enjoy reading. And you get a free copy of the book Master of the Azzurri when you join.

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Igli Tare was not the most technically gifted of players. Standing at 1.92 m, he excelled in aerial duels and was often used as a target man, someone who could hold up the ball, win headers, and bring others into play. His touch could be heavy at times, and he lacked pace, but he compensated with intelligent positioning, physical strength, and relentless work rate.

He wasn’t the kind of striker who would dazzle with flair or individual brilliance, but he understood those limitations and played to his strengths. Coaches appreciated his tactical discipline and willingness to do the unglamorous work up front, especially in systems that relied on a lone forward or direct play.

Born in Vlorë, Albania, in 1973, he began his professional career at Partizani Tirana before emigrating to Germany in the early 1990s. After stints in the lower leagues, including with VfR Mannheim and Fortuna Düsseldorf, Tare worked his way up to the Bundesliga with Karlsruher SC. His time in Germany established him as a reliable striker, particularly at Düsseldorf where he scored 24 goals in 63 appearances.

In 2001, he made the move to Serie A, signing with Brescia and later Bologna, sharing the dressing room with high-profile teammates and gained experience in one of Europe’s most tactical leagues.

In 2005, Tare joined Lazio, where even when not a regular starter, he was seen as a leader within the squad. Although not a prolific scorer during his time in Rome — netting five goals in 46 league appearances — he was appreciated also for his mental fortitude, a trait likely shaped by his early career challenges and his journey through multiple leagues.

Given his talents, there was little doubt that Tare would go on to enjoy a career in an administrative role within the game. Even so, his transition into the role of sporting director was unusually swift and seamless, largely due to the trust he earned at Lazio and his deep understanding of football dynamics from a player's perspective. Upon retiring from professional football in 2008 after three seasons at Lazio he was immediately brought into the club’s management structure, initially as coordinator of the technical area. By 2009, he was officially appointed sporting director, a move that surprised some but reflected the club's recognition of his leadership qualities, professionalism, and wide network across European football.

He would stay in that role for fifteen years; a duration that few have matched in world football. That he did so alongside an owner like Claudio Lotito who, famously, is not the most patient of men, makes it all the more impressive.

That word - impressive - can also be used to describe his work. Tare’s approach as a sporting director was shaped by his own career path: pragmatic, opportunistic, and focused on identifying undervalued or overlooked talent. He quickly built a reputation for his eye in the transfer market, often signing players on modest fees who later became key figures or were sold at significant profits—such as Sergej Milinković‑Savic, Ciro Immobile, and Luis Alberto.

His ability to navigate between football cultures, speak multiple languages, and earn the trust of both agents and players helped Lazio punch above its financial weight for over a decade. Beyond the players he brought in, Tare’s team building talent was also displayed in the managers he brought in where, tellingly, he went for more offensive minded ones as the overall quality of the squad improved.

That ability to shape a squad brought him to AC Milan's attention and they made a serious move for him in 2018. Back then Tare opted to stay at Lazio. "My childhood was shaped by Sacchi's Milan; it was hard to say no when I was approached by them," he later said.

He stayed in the capital city for a further five years until 2023, when Tare stepped away from Lazio. There was no one waiting in the wings; he simply needed some time away from the all consuming role and the pressures of running a side where expectations by far exceeded their financial power.

That break lasted for two years, which probably would have been longer had AC Milan not made another attempt. This time round, Tare didn't have any reason to refuse the offer. Although given the challenge he faces, perhaps he should have. The current Milan is nowhere near as good as that managed by Sacchi; it is a side lacking on all fronts: quality, direction, mentality, motivation and financial strength.

In other words, he has inherited a club in need of precisely the qualities that have defined his own path; pragmatism over hype, structure over chaos, and the quiet conviction that rebuilding is possible, even when the odds seem steep.

If his playing career was defined by doing the most with limited tools, his executive career has been about helping others realize their potential, often ahead of the market. Milan may be broken in parts, but Tare has never been drawn to perfect situations. His greatest strength lies in building quietly, patiently, and with purpose.

Which is why he might just be the perfect man for the job.

This is part of Cultured Football Shorts, quick reads that deliver sharp insights or memorable moments from the beautiful game which won’t take you more than two minutes to read.

Football moves fast and, despite it having been a couple of weeks, Thiago Motta’s time at Juventus already seems to be in the distant past.

It could hardly be anything difficult, given how little he managed to achieve. His time in Turin ended abruptly and unceremoniously, leaving behind more questions than answers. Yet, amid the chaos, one silver lining has emerged: the club’s renewed focus on youth.

Under Motta, whether out of vision or necessity, Juventus handed significant playing time to its youngest talents. According to Transfermarkt data, Juve ranks 13th across Europe’s top five leagues for minutes given to players under 21 and is the only Italian club in the top 20.

Names like Kenan Yildiz, Mbangula, and Savona are no longer just prospects they’ve become integral members of the matchday squad.

Yildiz, in particular, leads the team in appearances this season, though not without controversy, as Motta’s change of heart and reluctance to use him towards the end of his tenure became a stick with which to beat him. Justifiably so, given Yildiz’s performances since.

Even so, Juve's younger cohort racked up more than seven thousand minutes on the pitch, a testament to their growing importance.

It could even be that time is kind and Motta’s legacy at Juventus won’t be all bad since, although the club will need to rebuild, it won’t be starting from scratch. It has a core of young players who have been blooded in Serie A, know the pressures of the club, and have shown flashes of genuine potential.

That much should surely be credited to Motta.

A lot has been written about Dan Burn who, at 32, became one of the oldest men to make their international debut. But, remarkable though that was, his was not the unlikeliest first start of the most recent international break. Not even close.

Fernando Zampedri always dreamt of being a professional footballer, but for a long time, that dream seemed out of reach. At seventeen, he spent a year at Newell's Old Boys, but the opportunity led nowhere, forcing him to return home to his father's farm in Chajarí. Still, he refused to give up even when opportunities in Italy with Venezia and then Uruguay failed to turn into a concrete offer.

Then, at 21, he finally caught a break. Second-tier Atlético Rafaela took a chance on him, and slowly, he began to carve out a name for himself. Over the following years, he persisted, playing in Argentina’s lower divisions for a host of clubs: Sportivo Belgrano, Crucero del Norte, Guillermo Brown, Boca Unidos, and Juventud Unida. It was at Brown that he truly made his mark, scoring 22 goals in 32 matches. He followed that up with 25 goals for Juventud Unida, a tally that finally caught the attention of bigger clubs.

In 2016, Atlético Tucumán brought him to Argentina’s top flight and, at 28, he finally had the chance to compete at the highest level. He started slowly, managing just three goals in 13 matches but after a period of adjustment, his second campaign was unforgettable. He netted 17 goals in 32 games, delivering standout performances—including a famous Copa Libertadores win over Ecuador’s El Nacional in Quito. That night, his team arrived exhausted and had to play in Argentina’s U-20 national team jerseys. Wearing Lautaro Martínez’s No. 9 shirt and boots a size too small, Zampedri still managed to score the winner.

This success paved the way for a move to Rosario Central, where he found the net 18 times, scored in a derby against his former club Newell’s, and won the 2018 Copa Argentina. Just as his career seemed to be peaking, however, disaster struck when a serious ankle injury sidelined him for eight months and derailed a potential move to Independiente.

At Rosario, he befriended Chilean fullback Alfonso Parot, who later returned to Universidad Católica and advocated for Zampedri’s signing. Ironically, Colo Colo had already shown interest but ultimately passed on him. At 31, Zampedri joined Universidad Católica, unknowingly embarking on the most defining chapter of his career.

Once he adjusted to the Chilean league, defenders found him unstoppable. Over five years, he won four league titles and became Universidad Católica’s all-time leading scorer. He also took on the captaincy, cementing his legacy at the club.

His remarkable consistency — topping the goal-scoring charts for five consecutive seasons — made him one of Chile’s standout players. This, in turn, fuelled discussions about his potential inclusion in La Roja. After securing his Chilean citizenship, coach Ricardo Gareca handed him his long-awaited international debut. At 37, Zampedri finally donned the Chilean jersey in last week’s 1-0 defeat to Paraguay.

At an age when many players are winding down their careers, Zampedri continues to push forward, proving that resilience and hard work can create new opportunities, no matter the stage of one’s career. While the result against Paraguay was not what he or Chile had hoped for, his journey to this moment is a triumph in itself.