Let's talk about joy

I've followed the post-final posts with the difficulty typical of
these moments on rss (thousands of posts, hundreds of morons whose
mono-neuronic brains wake up just once every 4 years).
I still have about 1000 messages to check, if I ever do it, and I
skipped tons of garbage posted by idiots à la John Shocked or
ITALIA!!!

What I could hardly found, though, was JOY.
There were hundreds of posts of sore losers, and hundreds of bad
winners, that could only shout out loud in a way that had a lot of
rage but no happiness.

After "Italy-Australia: tale of a game", here's my small contribution
to rss about the feelings involved in this WC.
It's dedicated to all the people who never experienced it, with the
hope that once in their life they have the opportunity. I felt this
joy already twice in my life, and I'm very grateful of it.
So

LET'S TALK ABOUT JOY

Here we are again. Every dozen year a final, alternance says that this
is the one we win. Good omen bad omen: streaks lasts for a while, then
they are broken.

1970, the legend of semifinals, the match never lived but learnt on
history books. ItaliaGermaniaquattroatre, the word that still
identifies a generation.
1982: the joy of a child, first memories of football, the sweet
surprise to find out that the world may go upside down for a while,
and all the rules of common sense may be broken.
ZoffGentileCabrini...the lullaby that we heard hundreds of times
before dreaming.
1994: the incubus of penalties, the day that Italy could have taken
the lead in WC history, and let it to Brasil. Baggio....Alto, the
short way to say that all hopes are over.

It's 2006, july the 9th, and the fortune has prepared the most intense
final, the cousins that love beating the other and hate losing with
it.
France, that beated us on penalty in 1998 and with a painful golden
goal in 2000, suffucating our victory shout.
The roads are desert, the air if full of a nervous silence: time to
go, hinc sunt leones.

You remember the joy of your childhood. Memories of football are born
with that Italy-Brasil. away from home, on holidays, sitting on a
chair in the kitchen of a lady friend of your grandmother.
Intense emotions, you remember the rising star of Pablito, but mostly
a save by Zoff, the most solid keeper you have ever seen, that
stretches his back, almost jumping backward to stop a shot that every
other keeper would have let pass.
Then the final, sitting on the leather armchair of your grandma; the
penalty missed by Cabrini, the run by Tardelli, Pertini looking like a
grandpa, standing and moving his finger in denial "non ci prendono
più, non ci prendono più", Martellini overwhelmed with joy "Campioni
del mondo! Campioni del mondo! Campioni del mondo!", you jumping on
the armchair and the sweet protests of your grandmother, but,
"grandma, we are world champion". And then you watch outside the
balcony, and a river of cars and flags flows in all the roads.
the world is upside down, everything is allowed, everything is sensed,
because we are world champions.

The match has started. in 1982 we beated the team of the pope, polish,
in the semi, and then won the title; this year that pope is german. In
1990 we hosted and lost in the semis, Germany won; time to counter.
The start is a bit nervous, maybe it won't be a great match, but
that's not necessary for a final.

6th minute, penalty, Zidane, cucchiaio, bar, out, no goal.
Quick as knife, the match has changed, now it's tough tough tough.
Ok, it's still a long way to go. Before the match you were telling
your father that last time we beated them, 1978, they scored an early
goal, and then we recovered and won. Time to repeat all the omens.

Italy attacks, every corner is a threat. this is a team that has
bollocks, no matter how it finishes.
We're playing ok, the goal must arrive. It does,
you thought you would have shouted louder, but evidently the tension
for the final is too high; you still have in your ears, though, the
way the throat vibrated when you were shouting on Grosso's goal few
days before, and when you opened the window to shout out loud when Del
Piero doubled.
Anyway, it's Materazzi's night. His baby is there with the mum; my
God, how can you feel the moment you see that your father is scoring a
fundamental goal in a world cup final?

1st half over; Italy deserved to be ahead, France found the goal on a
dubious penalty in the only chance they had.
2nd half, France attacks, legitimates the goal and has chances to
score again, we are tired.
Cannavaro,Cannavaro. The captain is becoming the rock of the most
solid defense that no opponent seems able to break.
Buffon, what a save on Zizou's header! After an outstanding world cup,
this is the gem that can take a place close to Zoff's magics.

Extra time. Zidane's reaction, what an awful way to end a career.
Penalties. Oh no, not again, the only thing you wanted to avoid.
Oh well, we cannot lose this time too, can we?
Pirlo, the sad face of a post office clerk, hidden emotions. Goal
Wiltord, the key to open our door in Euro2000. Goal
Materazzi, don't shoot high as a defender, you are a specialist, it is
your night. Goal
Trezeguet, what a revenge could be; Buffon must know the way he
shoots. Bar, again, in? in? out? out...in a whisper, hold your
breathe, it's still a long way to go
De Rossi, keep your nerves down pal. Goal
Abidal a defender, I don't feel secure, let's increase the gap. Very
well shot. Goal
Del Piero, you cannot betray, you cannot betray, you cannot...Goal
Sagnol, let's increase the...Goal
Grosso. Are we there? A month of sufference and here we are, the
moment to go and catch it all. It's in your feet, after Australia,
after Germany.

You see the slow motion. He's shooting, while millions of people are
holding their breathe. The ball is going towards the goal, crossing
the line, few seconds to understand if it will fill the net or you
will see it going farther. It fills it.
Too quick. The 3-1 over Germany was a crescendo, you could taste the
victory little by little. Here the fate was so close till the end,
Italy is world champion and you are just realizing it, no time to
shout out loud, no time to hear the 4 time "campioni del mondo" that
you dreamt of for so long.

Time to celebrate. The victory was too quick, but now it's time to go,
be part of that river that you just watched from the balcony 24 years
ago.
You take your flag, you hug it and wear it, outside the world is going
upside down again. you walk in wonder, this is happening, this is
happenenig again, you are there, walking, and Italy is world champion.
There are few moments in your life, when you leave something behind
your shoulders and you know it's forever, that nothing can happen and
take it away. It is so when you graduate, when your last day of
military is over, when something you fought for is past.
This is the same feeling, but sweeter, and it's not yours, it's shared
by million people.
People you never knew and you'll never meet again are your best
friends for a minute.
The lady in the car must be 70 and is waving a flag in joy, and you'd
like to go and hug her.
Some guys are playing corrida with the flag on every car that passes
in the street. 3 cars of carabinieri approaches, and they play their
sirens in joy and wave at the guys...oh dear, upside down!

The night is long and still isn't over. You still feel that there is a
big shout left in your throat, and sooner or later it will have to
erupt, to make the celebration complete.
But now it's not over yet, and some times you still surprise yourself
watching that cup, a wonderful jewel, and you see the captain rising
it with a smile and you can't believe it. How nice is that cup.
And then you think of all the things that happened in the past month
and you find more and more memories that excites you, as when you hear
po-po-popo-popo-po on tv and the mind goes to a million people waving
their flags in Roma.

And then you find yourself writing down some of these things at night,
a week after, and you still get moved, and cry for joy the sweetest
tears.
.

Loading