Fikayo Tomori on his five years at Milan: San Siro was full and I just thought: Phwoar

MILAN — On a sun-splashed February afternoon, Fikayo Tomori sits outside a pasticceria in the city’s glass-and-green vertical-forest district, cappuccino in hand, resisting the siren call of a Neapolitan sfogliatella. “I’ve got a sweet tooth,” the 28-year-old smiles, “but the vitamin D wins today.”

Five years have passed since a Zoom call with Paolo Maldini flipped the Londoner’s world upside down. “I hung up and thought: ‘Did that just happen?’” Tomori recalls. Within days he was on loan from Chelsea; within months the Rossoneri made the move permanent. What followed is a half-decade stretch most players only dream of: 200 appearances, a Scudetto, a Coppa Italia final, a Supercoppa comeback against Inter in Riyadh, and a Champions League semi-final heart-breaker, also to Inter.

The numbers only tell part of the story. At Milanello, black-framed photographs of Maldini, Baresi and Shevchenko greet him every morning. “You’re hit with history the second you walk in,” he says. “Then you meet Michele, the chef who’s been swirling pasta for 30 years and has a story for every away trip. He’s part of the furniture.”

Tomori’s own snapshots are now on that wall: the bus parade after the 2022 title snaked five hours through a city that turned the Duomo into a red-and-black sea; the night San Siro reopened to fans post-Covid and he whispered “Phwoar” as 75,000 tifosi roared for Cagliari; the derby in which he scored and watched Tammy Abraham do the same while flares painted the Curva Sud coral-red.

That first derby, a Coppa Italia quarter-final weeks after his arrival, remains vivid. “Covid crowds were allowed at training,” he laughs. “Flags, banners, drums — I thought: ‘This is a different game.’ Then the bus to San Siro: fans banging the sides, police escorts, the concrete ramps, the towers. Goose-bumps every time.”

The rivalry has defined his Milan tenure. Inter won six straight derbies, including the Champions League quarter-final that sent them to the Istanbul final and the match that clinched their 20th Scudetto. Milan have since gone six unbeaten, most memorably last January’s Supercoppa turnaround from 2-0 down to 3-2 in Riyadh. Tomori used 15 tickets for November’s 1-0 league win. “People see it on TV and think they get it. They don’t. The air changes in derby week.”

On the pitch, Tomori has morphed from high-line centre-back in a four to a ball-carrying cog in Massimiliano Allegri’s back three. “Mister’s first meeting he said: ‘We scored 80-odd goals — Champions League numbers — but conceded 40-odd, mid-table numbers. Everyone defends, not just the back line.’” The message stuck: 12 clean sheets this season, Tomori poised to out-play every other Rossoneri defender even after Mattia Gabbia’s injury.

He bristles at the old trope that Serie A is slow. “Myth. Our GPS numbers are sky-high. Premier League intensity is about space and sprint-recover; here it’s prevention — read the trigger, step, intercept. The speed is in the brain.”

The brain, and the lungs. Milan sit on 57 points, matching their title pace of four years ago, yet trail an Inter side that has won 14 of 15. Rafa Leão and Christian Pulisic — double-digits in goals and assists — are tasked with chasing them down. Tomori still marvels at Leão’s natural gift — “like he came out of the womb dribbling” — and Pulisic’s understated elite craft. “People don’t realise how rapid, how sharp, how intelligent he is. He’ll be the face of the U.S. World Cup and carry massive pressure, but he’s calm, simple, obsessed with improvement.”

Tomori hopes to board a different plane this summer. “England. Very much so. I’ve been close. Tuchel told me the same: keep going, you’re right there.”

For now, the focus is the next derby, another chapter in a rivalry that has framed his Milan life. “San Siro might not be here forever,” he notes, eyes drifting toward the planned new stadium for 2032. “To play in possibly the last of them? Tremendous privilege.”

He finishes his coffee, glances once more at the sfogliatella in the window, and heads off into a city that no longer feels foreign. Five years, 200 games, a Scudetto, countless flares and one unforgettable “Phwoar.” Fikayo Tomori has become a modern Milan legend in the making.