Rome, May 2025.

As the Internazionali d’Italia moves into its final stages, there’s a bitter undertone lingering around the Foro Italico. Not because of the level of play, which remains excellent, nor the crowd attendance, always enthusiastic.

The issue involves fewer people, but it’s no less dangerous: the intertwining of micro-betting, disruptive spectator behaviour, and a form of leniency that, in some ways, reflects a “small-town in big city” culture.

A striking comparison, at least within the context of major Italian tennis events, is the ATP Finals in Turin.

There, the event is organised under more direct control of the ATP, with strict security measures and a more professional environment, in a city characterised by a more European work ethic and a smaller number of courts to oversee.

In Rome, by contrast, the Foro Italico is a maze of secondary courts, areas accessible with general passes, and open spaces that make it easier for disruptive elements to slip in.

One could say, with a certain irony, that the vibe is “small-town”, but not in a geographical sense. It’s not a matter of provincialism, but of an environment steeped in personal relationships, where the enforcement of rules is often secondary to dynamics of familiarity and belonging: a kind of sporting familism that Rome, more than any other tournament, seems unable to shake off. It’s worth noting that the FITP is, to a large extent, a Rome-based organisation with its roots and core in the capital.

Micro-Betting and the Advantage of Being There. Micro-betting (live bets placed on minimal and instantaneous events, such as a single point or a double fault) is now a permanent fixture in the modern sports betting landscape. However, tennis lends itself to this type of betting more than any other sport.

Each point is a perfectly isolated unit, with simple dynamics and an immediate result. This makes it ideal for real-time wagering — especially for those with privileged access to information. And that’s where the problem begins. Due to a slight delay in television and online broadcasts, those physically present in the stands enjoy a significant informational advantage: they can witness a point conclude and place a bet before the bookmaker updates the odds. This is known as court-siding. Once a grey-area practice, it is now considered a form of technical manipulation that exploits loopholes in broadcast and data systems. But in Rome, the issue takes on particular nuances. It’s not just about illegal gambling or organised crime — although those elements may occasionally surface. More often, it’s something simpler yet harder to contain: a permissive environment, a local culture that tends to “tolerate” rowdiness, heckling, and the so-called “colourful” troublemaker.

That’s how some spectators, while not necessarily part of criminal networks, end up acting like professional disruptors. Whistles, shouts, strategic coughing during key moments, phones ringing just as a player serves for the set. In other sports, this might have minimal impact. In tennis, where focus is everything, even one sudden noise can be worth dozens of euros to someone betting on a forced error.

Friends of Friends? Paolo [Lorenzi], the tournament director, is a smart man, prepared, and he’s already made his stance clear: “Our Federation will further strengthen the checks already in place, providing full support to law enforcement and the ATP to ensure that incidents such as those reported are not repeated. At the same time, the FITP will ensure that individuals identified as responsible for disruptive behaviour are never again allowed to set foot in any venue hosting a federation-sanctioned event.” [Il Messaggero]

Still, there’s a lingering question at the Foro: does Lorenzi truly have the power to stop certain dynamics? The familiar faces seen around the secondary courts, the ones who “belong to the scene” are they just anonymous hecklers? Or are they “friends of friends”, shielded by personal connections and the Roman 'volemose bene' spirit, that make it difficult to apply strict measures? Anyone who frequents the Foro Italico knows the reality: these aren’t just “a few clowns”. Their faces are familiar, their behaviour recurring and yet, interventions are rare and rarely decisive. Which means the dynamic isn’t just technical, but cultural. As long as a certain type of disruptive support is tolerated in the name of Roman “chaos” and tradition, tennis will remain exposed to these corrosive behaviours.

Solutions: Technical, Regulatory, but Above All, Cultural. Of course, technical solutions exist. Broadcast delays could, in theory, be reduced to minimise the live advantage of on-site spectators, but this would require changes that interfere with existing systems and commercial agreements. Micro-betting could be suspended during high-risk match moments, but that would upset the bookmakers. “Silent zones” could be established around the outer courts, yet the logistics of the Foro Italico, with its historic architecture and open layout, make structural interventions difficult. But no solution will be truly effective without a shift in collective perception. As long as the troublemaker is viewed as a quirky character rather than a potential match manipulator, every effort will fall short. And as long as local networks continue to shield certain behaviours, clear and firm enforcement will remain elusive. Micro-betting is a real threat, a structural vulnerability of modern tennis.

Rome, with its unique atmosphere and contradictions, risks becoming the perfect laboratory for the toxic evolution of this phenomenon. It’s time to take seriously not only the problem itself, but also the shared responsibility of confronting it.

More ban from attending sporting events (DASPO under Italian legislation) and less “volemose bene” spirit around (a tendency to prioritise friendships and familiarity over rules and accountability.)

Less technically: Kick the idiots out, plain and simple.