And the teenager I betrayed

by Lorenzo Piccoli


It’s already April but the wind smells like we are still in January. As you folks know, I am living in Florence and yesterday the local football team was due to play the second leg of the semifinal of Coppa Italia against Juventus, which happens to be the most hated team in the whole country, in Florence, and in my personal records too. Boy, this had the potential to be a great day.

Surely the teenager version of Lorenzo would have gone mad for such a match. Until turning fifteen, a good 70% of my life revolved around football – the remaining 30% was evenly divided between girls, videogames, and masturbation. Unfortunately, a sardonic fate has changed the priorities of my life, putting masturbation on top… well, not quite. But the truth is football is no longer a raging characteristic of my life. Is no priority whatsoever, really. Gone are the times when I caused serious damages to the car of my dad because we were late for the Sunday evening match and I could not tolerate missing the first half an hour of it so I obliged him to pump in the wrong kind of fuel. Gone are the times when I obliged my cousin to record the televised replica of Milan-Monza, a pre-seasonal friendly match played at 3AM on the 15th of August watched by less than 100 people in the whole world. Gone are the times when I painted my hair blue hours before Italy played France in the final of the European Championship, probably unaware that blue is the national color of France too so it did not make much sense altogether – anyways, you got the message.

And so it is. Yesterday, while Fiorentina was being hammered by Juventus, I was happy go lucky with Thomas family, as the kids were jumping on me and the dad was telling stories, and I was just happy to be there with them rather than at the stadium or in a bar. We did, in all truth, end up in a bar for the final minutes of the match. But at that point I realized how football has faded away from my life and does not mean much, while other things still do. Spending time with Thomas family is one of these things and it will suffice to say that being with them makes me feel peaceful. Sometimes this kind of kindness is all what you need to feel. Simple, natural, and probably easier to explain that a pre-seasonal friendly match played at 3 in the night. Or a 3-0 home defeat against the most hated team of the entire country.

'ciao bello'

Post-scriptum: I thought I had already written something about this post, which is beautiful. Turns out I haven’t. So let me tell you now that football for me still makes some sense as a mechanism to mock my friends. Alvise is Parma, Stefano is Milan, Max and Tommaso are Juventus, Thomas is Arsenal, and so on. Obviously I am not immune from this system, so yesterday night I received quite a few messages from these friends. Here I will report only some, those pointing at my vile attitude to switch team depending on the circumstances and always side with the winner. I initially titled this blogpost “Frankly, my dear, I couldn’t care less“. I then realized how wrong that was. In fact, I would have cared very much about being able to send some ill mannered messages around. Instead, I will have to keep my mouth shut for quite some time now.

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