It is no
secret that I am American. But it is also pretty well known that I support
Italy when it comes to football. I mean I fell in love with football because of
the Italian national team. Also, did I mention I was American? Yeah. Go USMNT. Or
something. I mean I think I’d rather be forced to support the San Marino
national team or something, at least they try. But as I watched the Italians
singing “Fratelli d’Italia” on Friday, including our own De Sciglio, my heart
was stirred again in the way that I first fell in love with football, and I was
certain that this truly is my Italian love affair.
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| Seriously, what's not to love? |
I don’t
know if it is Bruce Arena’s Neanderthal soundbytes or the overall hatred so
many soccer-crazed Americans have of Jürgen Klinsmann, despite their recent and
first ever U-20 CONCACAF win being at least partially due to his influence
& restructuring of the USA youth system. First ever. But I know that USA mens soccer for me is about as enjoyable
as eating styrofoam. (Have you ever tried that, by the way? The little beads of
styrofoam get stuck everywhere, it’s so annoying.) Or maybe it’s the alarmingly
bad commentators and coverage of “soccer” here in the States. Like the
correction the New York Times had to make on their original writeup for Cesare
Maldini’s obituary. They literally printed that Milan won our first European Cup
in 1963 by defeating the Portuguese
National Team. That really happened. So did the MLS.
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| Seriously, America? |
So call
me a snob, but the Italian national team stole my heart, and they don’t seem to
be giving it back anytime soon. (There was a brief period under Conte’s reign
of terror in which my heart was frozen to protect it from the pain, but it has
since been thawed and is beating loud and strong once again.) From every dull
performance, just eeking out a result, to the times they leave qualifying or
advancing to the last possible minute and then go through, to the times that
they don’t make it, and my heart breaks…my red and black blood takes direction
from the Azzurri. Win, lose, draw, get bitten, or robbed by a crooked ref, my
heart beats for the team that hails from a nation halfway around the world. And
don’t forget the Italian national anthem. It is literally the best anthem ever.
It’s so peppy, but with such a serious message, “We’re prepared to die.”
There are
definitely plenty of bad things about Italy. Racism, sexism, organized crime, football scandals, Bunga Bunga parties, superstition, violence against women, too many McDonald’s,
so many short men (sorry guys), Old Boys’ Clubs (particularly those with
power,) and more. But to be fair, Americans elected Donald Trump as our
president, so my adopted country still wins my football allegiance. Also, this.
Okay, if they have to make a video to teach men not to hit women, that's not good.
At the
end of the day, it’s the tactics, the passion, and the very Italian-ness of the
Azzurri that fuels my love. From Buffon belting out the Italian national anthem
full force despite being completely tone deaf, to the heartbreak of a penalty
shootout loss to the exquisite joy of lifting the World Cup, I watch Italy with
a love that transcends common sense and geography. They will always be my first
love, the one I never forget.
This post inspired
by the music of Inno di Mameli
Our next match is
Pescara vs. Milan
Sunday, April 2 •
15:00 CET (9am EST)
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