Loïs Openda's Serie A Journey: Lessons from a Challenging Season

Loïs Openda did not find the goals he wanted in Italy. He did not find a place in Belgium’s 2026 World Cup squad either. Yet he refuses to file that solitary Serie A season under “failure”.

For the Belgian forward, that year was an education.

Speaking to L’Equipe, Openda went back to the beginning, to the conversations that convinced him to take on one of Europe’s most tactical leagues.

“I spoke with Damien Comolli, who was then the club director, and he explained how he intended to use me in a difficult league,” he said.

Serie A, with its compact blocks and chessboard defending, is not always kind to strikers who live off space. Openda knew that. He went anyway.

He quickly saw how rare his preferred conditions were. “In Italy, the team that really exploits depth is Inter. Roma are only just starting to understand it.” For a forward who thrives on running in behind, that matters. A lot.

Inside his own dressing room, the battle for minutes was fierce. “The coach wanted me, but Vlahovic and David were already playing in my position,” Openda explained. He found a connection with one of them. “I had good chemistry with David, but the team wasn't used to playing with a player who runs in behind, and Vlahovic tended to keep the ball to himself.”

He chased opportunities, snatching what he could. “I tried to get my chance, and sometimes I did,” he said. The problem came later, when the pattern stopped feeling temporary. “Towards the end of the season, I realised that to play, I had to leave.”

That decision, he insists, carried no regret. “It wasn't a mistake, and it allowed me to work on aspects I hadn't considered. I knew exactly what I was getting into, and I'm sure that in other circumstances, it would have gone better.”

No World Cup ticket, no breakout year in Italy – but Openda walks away convinced that the hard season will pay him back. The next move will show just how much he learned from a league that rarely forgives strikers who rely on space that never comes.