Here, now, everyone thinks that, nine months ago, it was right to follow Mourinho into his world. With his unsettling hallucinations, his humanity so full of sarcasm and ferocious determination, his wanting to win by right
Show your fans this Conference cup, Lorenzo Pellegrini.
Put it up in the sky of Tirana for all those Romanists who grew up with the poignant nursery rhyme of Conti Peccenini Rocca, for those who celebrated the day Sperotto was bought in the third grade, for the gloomy rainy Sundays when Scarnecchia was expected to enter the Olimpico, and then for the teenagers who lost their innocence when that goal in Turone was canceled, and of course for all those who stubbornly continued to sing the anthem after the 7-1, for those who went to the Circo Massimo by Antonello Venditti anyway after the penalties lost against Liverpool, in that terrible night of dreams, cups and champions, a night of tears and prayers.
The (apparently) bitter life of the Roma fan is paid off by evenings like this. A party that already appears excessive here, and let alone in Rome, whence comes Whathapp of heartbreaking happiness. Totally unreasonable, stunning, and therefore incomprehensible. But understanding the loves of others, you know, is always complicated.
Here, now, everyone thinks that, nine months ago, it was right to follow Mourinho in his world. With his unsettling hallucinations, his humanity so full of sarcasm and ferocious determination, his wanting to win by right anytime and anywhere, even in Tirana, tonight, in a final that – for intellectual honesty – it must be said is not worth a quarter of the finals. he was used to.
His gaze rises from the portable Mac and runs across the lawn to intercept him: he is crying. Because even shamans know how to cry.
Fading images. Abraham who wants to rock the cup. Ibanez dances with Mancini, he who was convinced it was a cup to put umbrellas on. Rui Patricio and Cristante take Bove and Zalewski by the hand, and the whole team ends up under the yellow and red curve.
a very hot night, the tears of many cling to the cheeks. Each lives within his own door, personal joy. What then happens in the brutal euphoria of football: you always end up thinking of someone who is no longer there, who cannot celebrate with you. That mother who taught in the school behind the Testaccio field, the grandparents at the window, and then the yellow and red sky, with Agostino and Dino Viola, Albertone and Gigi. Meanwhile, messages continue to arrive from the Olympic stadium. Where they watch us from the big screens. Seven hundred kilometers in one heartbeat. Tell me what – Venditti sings – that makes us feel close even if we are far away.
The game now appears to be a detail.
Winning it or losing it, as mentioned, would have been almost the same thing for the Roma fans. Almost. Familiarity with defeat had prepared bellies, not hearts. There everyone hoped they could finally put something beautiful in their memories hat.
Perhaps it doesn’t even make too much sense to reread the first notes on Moleskine: Dutch starting out aggressive, Rome a bit squashed. Then Mkhitaryan gets hurt (exacerbation of the old injury), Sergio Oliveira enters. Which, immediately, he proves to have more leg. a shock for the Giallorossi midfield. Smooth maneuvering (and Smalling, behind: a giant).
Mourinho yells at the young Zalewski to get on his wing, Pellegrini begins to do what he knows how to do, throws himself between the lines, head held high and elegant dribble, from him to Cristante, the ball ends up in Mancini: throw for Zaniolo. Chest control and gentle tap. Zaniolo always scores in Europe. In fact, he is not wrong even this time (it would seem an easy goal: and instead, looking at him, a serious matter).
Forastic thoughts, at the interval. The Roma fans have to tame the most excruciating anxietiesthe. Legitimate: the Dutch return to the field and, in four minutes, take a post and chip a crossbar. Mou, with your hands: stay calm. Zaniolo and Zalewski exit, Veretout and Spinazzola enter. Suddenly you realize that there is a quarter of an hour to go. In spells, everything happens quickly. Sighs and images remain. And Thanks Rome, now, to the ball from the speakers.
Here: here everything is so excessive, exciting, psychedelic. You would have to be a Roma fan to understand. Leave it alone.
May 26, 2022 (change May 26, 2022 | 00:18)
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