Well it is in Italy, as you may well know. I was simply wondering how deep your team's performances affect you, and more to the point how you react to a big setback on behalf of your team or your favourite players. Even more to the point, I want to know if any of you went as far as crying. I know I have.
WC 1990 : This was the first World Cup I had the chance to follow comprehensively. I was 13 at the time and it happened in my country. I was on holiday in Liguria, and the atmosphere was simply unreal. For a month, Italy was just a big green, white and red boot. It was like a dream. It was also the summer when the jolly battalion of Scottish fans that were touring the Peninsula initiated me to the wonders of alcohol. But when Donadoni missed the decisive penalty in that doomed semi against Argentina, it turned into a bad hangover. And I burst into tears.
1994 : Van Basten had been out of action for nearly 2 years already. It was obvious that he would never come back, but us milanisti still had a glimmer of hope that some day we would still see the Swan tread upon San Siro's lawn. But then came that Milan-Juventus game. Van Basten chose this occasion to enter the pitch just before the match, grabbing a mic and announcing to the 80 000 faithful : "I have something to tell you : I will no longer play football. Thanks for everything". He then made one last walk around the pitch, saluted by a standing ovation. I cried like a baby.
WC 1994 : One of Italy's worst tournaments in recent history, but the Divin Codino single-handedly took us to the final, so we weren't going to waste this chance, were we? Especially against a Brazilian team that wasn't exactly the epitome of brilliance. I watched the final in Southern France, surrounded by an army of anti-Italian frogs. When Baggino missed the decisive peno, I felt like a big ball growing inside my throat, trying to come out. Then I saw the image of Baresi, il Capitano, Kaiser Franz, the emotion-free commander-in-chief of so many won battles, who after injuring himself in the opening game had made an incredible comeback for the final where he was the best player on the pitch, I saw Baresi the Rock cry like a 10 year old on Sacchi's shoulder. He knew that at 34, he had just missed his last chance at WC glory. I knew it too. And I cried.
Euro 2000 : That cursed final against the perfidious French, how can we forget. I was already living in Belgium and had gone up to Holland two days before just to tease the Dutch (and smoke some of that wicked skunk)after we sent them out of their own tournament in the semis. I watched the game in Brussels, with an overwhelming majority of Belgians cheering for Italy. I was very confident about our chances, and after the first half I was 100% sure we'd win. Delvecchio's goal confirmed my premonition. Even Del Piero's missed sitters didn't shake my faith. But in the 94th minute...And then in extra-time...I was a big boy by then, so I didn't cry, but never had I felt so gutted, and no amount of Belgian beer could heal my wounds.
WC 1990 : This was the first World Cup I had the chance to follow comprehensively. I was 13 at the time and it happened in my country. I was on holiday in Liguria, and the atmosphere was simply unreal. For a month, Italy was just a big green, white and red boot. It was like a dream. It was also the summer when the jolly battalion of Scottish fans that were touring the Peninsula initiated me to the wonders of alcohol. But when Donadoni missed the decisive penalty in that doomed semi against Argentina, it turned into a bad hangover. And I burst into tears.
1994 : Van Basten had been out of action for nearly 2 years already. It was obvious that he would never come back, but us milanisti still had a glimmer of hope that some day we would still see the Swan tread upon San Siro's lawn. But then came that Milan-Juventus game. Van Basten chose this occasion to enter the pitch just before the match, grabbing a mic and announcing to the 80 000 faithful : "I have something to tell you : I will no longer play football. Thanks for everything". He then made one last walk around the pitch, saluted by a standing ovation. I cried like a baby.
WC 1994 : One of Italy's worst tournaments in recent history, but the Divin Codino single-handedly took us to the final, so we weren't going to waste this chance, were we? Especially against a Brazilian team that wasn't exactly the epitome of brilliance. I watched the final in Southern France, surrounded by an army of anti-Italian frogs. When Baggino missed the decisive peno, I felt like a big ball growing inside my throat, trying to come out. Then I saw the image of Baresi, il Capitano, Kaiser Franz, the emotion-free commander-in-chief of so many won battles, who after injuring himself in the opening game had made an incredible comeback for the final where he was the best player on the pitch, I saw Baresi the Rock cry like a 10 year old on Sacchi's shoulder. He knew that at 34, he had just missed his last chance at WC glory. I knew it too. And I cried.
Euro 2000 : That cursed final against the perfidious French, how can we forget. I was already living in Belgium and had gone up to Holland two days before just to tease the Dutch (and smoke some of that wicked skunk)after we sent them out of their own tournament in the semis. I watched the game in Brussels, with an overwhelming majority of Belgians cheering for Italy. I was very confident about our chances, and after the first half I was 100% sure we'd win. Delvecchio's goal confirmed my premonition. Even Del Piero's missed sitters didn't shake my faith. But in the 94th minute...And then in extra-time...I was a big boy by then, so I didn't cry, but never had I felt so gutted, and no amount of Belgian beer could heal my wounds.
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The most humiliating event in recent time is that 0-3 to ManU a couple years ago, I was not happy then but an hour after the game I was over it, making cracks and having a good time again. Just the way it works for some reason..
