I have quite a few 'free time before going to sleep and since I have nothing pressing to do and it's cold outside, I decided to write a long post that speaks of Fiorentina. I know you will whisk you to the football, do not give a bean blessed me to write Fiorentina and, quite rightly, you're thinking of leaving at exactly this point, this post. But I, to convince you to stay, I say also that the post will talk about it, of Fiorentina, but not all. There will also be moving memories of my childhood, and finally, towards the end of the post, a morality that will allow you to question the true values \u200b\u200bof life. Well. If after all this premise, the post did not really want to read, do not think I have other ways to convince you, if you do not pay. But I will not. So.
Fiorentina is in last place. Bad to say, but so be it. Last in the standings. Did not happen for years and it deserves (?) An accurate reflection. Come here that I'll explain.
When you're small and you realize that football can somehow be of interest to you, there comes a certain point where you have to decide which team to cheer. It 's a choice that is often light-hearted, because small is very optimistic and believe that any team we will choose, will always be the best in the world. I decided to cheer for Fiorentina, for three reasons: the first reason was that I was born in Florence, and they will agree, is a good reason. The second reason was that in my family were all for Fiorentina and therefore thought-erroneously- che la Fiorentina fosse la migliore squadra al mondo, perchè mi dicevo: mica può essere possibile che tutti i miei parenti abbiano scelto una squadra di merda. Se hanno scelto la Fiorentina, un motivo ci sarà. Il motivo lo sto ancora cercando e buona parte dei miei parenti sono morti. Il terzo motivo è stato che se avessi tifato per qualunque altra squadra, mio babbo, mio nonno ed i miei zii, mi avrebbero fatto a pezzi con una motosega ed avrebbero mangiato i miei resti il giorno di Natale. Ti dirò che tifare per la Fiorentina negli anni settanta, non era tutto rose e fiori. Anzi. Io me li ricordo i lunedì mattina a scuola: venivi accerchiato dai compagni che avevano deciso di tifare una delle tre strisciate del nord che vincevano a Sunday and the other as well, and you were savagely taken for a ride. And what could you do? No, I say you could do when the day before the Ternana you had trimmed two pears?
Gnè Gnè Gnè Juve won twenty-six zero, Gnè Gnè Gnè thirty-six Milan have won one, Gnè Gnè Gnè forty-two Inter have won four. Fiorentina And what he did? Ha ha ha.
know? That could mean? He had taken two pears from Ternana. Then menavi. Or at least they try. You could not stay quiet and still, fuck. Those taking the piss out of the team of your city, the city where you were born (which, sti assholes, we were also born in Florence them) and you restavi zitto e fermo? E insomma, cazzo, bisogna essere uomini anche se si è bambini. E allora gli menavo. Anzi: spesso mi menavano. Capirai: facci te a cazzotti contro tre o quattro. Così, oltre alle due pere prese il giorno prima, prendevo pure le botte il giorno dopo. Un genio, direi. Allora tornavo a casa e chiedevo a mio nonno: s enti un po' nonno, ma com'è che la Fiorentina perde sempre? E lui diceva: e che vuol dire se perde? C'è chi vince e c'è chi perde. Ci sono bambini che sono più bravi di te a scuola. Allora noi che dovremmo fare, mandarti via di casa e prendere qualcuno più bravo? Noi si vuole bene a te comunque tu sia. Verrà il giorno che anche la Fiorentina vincerà e if not win, never mind. Someone else will win. What matters is the commitment and loyalty.
I on time, not too much I was satisfied with that explanation, then over time I think I understand. This is the culture of defeat. Wrap themselves in it as one of those handmade sweaters to warm up by his grandmother and his warmth.
Good. I would say that I am now I can post even close. I broke the balls to write me, I imagine that you (your goodness) you read it, is close to suicide.
0 comments:
Post a Comment