Brent Everett At School

The "my" Napoli - Juventus

The "my" Napoli - Juventus.

one with the "Old Lady" is one of the most heard by the Neapolitan fans. Over the years many idiosyncrasies have alternate (perhaps it is more correct to say sedimented and additions), but that between Naples and Turin - Juventus side - it's old, entrenched and continues to grow. Needless to travel the known events of the '70s in which the protagonist was 'core' ngrato "(it is unnecessary to even mention the name of the player) would be inappropriate for someone my age to go even further back with the clock e narrare di storie famose o famigerate, ma alle quali non ho fisicamente partecipato. Pertanto mi limiterò al semplice e nudo ricordo, scavando nella mia mente ed evocando le rimembranze delle voci di Roberto Bortoluzzi che coordinava "Tutto il calcio minuto per minuto", di Enrico Ameri, Sandro Ciotti, Alfredo Provenziali e via dicendo.

Il calcio della mia infanzia e della prima adolescenza, quello degli anni '80, era, infatti, soprattutto audio. Ma anche immagine. E non si trattava della reiterata e prolissa trasmissione di riflessi filmati operata dalle pay per view attuali, bensì dei preziosi e irripetibili filmati che potevi osservare solo poche volte e grazie a "Novantesimo minuto" condotto da Paolo Valenti e "La Domenica Sportiva". Luigi Necco, Italo Kuhne il recentemente scomparso Tonino Carino, Gianni Vasino, Franco Strippoli, Giampiero Galezzi con i suoi improponibile copricapo (e altri) erano coloro i quali introducevano le prime immagini, visibili solo nel tardo pomeriggio; Adriano De Zan, Marino Bartoletti, Tito Stagno erano, invece, i volti della "DS", i tecnici che la sera approfondivano i temi del campionato in una trasmissione che ha fatto scuola e che ha segnato il mio modo di intendere il calcio mediatico. Quel calcio che ormai è morto, facendo strada ad un qualcosa di essenzialmente diverso diverso, in alta qualità, macinato e rimacinato, spacchettato e riconfezionato per il gusto del tifoso da poltrona. And yes, because the butt of a time and his way of telling, that football of the decade of glam and excess, is the kick that goes well with the fan curve, with the mentality of those who live by faith and not is interested in constantly receive images and expert comments or assumed. The radio, which in time becomes walkman, accompanying the train kilometers away, while the images of the "DS" gave the welcome home after km ground for miles and follow the team. Now get to see who keeps the game at the stadium to "tivvufonino" and, rather than opens cheer, getting lost in philosophical musings about the supposed "corruption" of the arbitrator denied a penalty, rather than a linesman, guilty di non aver decretato un off side lapalissiano. Degenerazioni della società "on line"...

"Tutto il calcio" e "90esimo" erano due entità tra loro collegate. La prima era pura fase immaginativa. Ascolatavo il racconto delle azioni e, per quanto esso potesse essere particolareggiato, lasciava comunque spazio alla fantasia. Era "Novantesimo" a dare concretezza all'immagine astratta che ognuno creava nella propria mente. E così potevo soppesare l'abilità del radiocronista, valutando la sua capacità di rendere immagine ciò che veniva enfaticamente narrato nei pomeriggi domenicali. L'unico spezzatino che si conosceva all'epoca era quello che le sapienti mamme infornavano, non quello che la Lega Calcio, asservita agli interessi e al danaro contante e cantante delle pay tv, oggi hanno imposto a noi tifosi. E così un generazione di pallonari inebetiti sta venendo su; una schiera di tifosi virtuali che rifuggono e criticano la dura e splendida legge della curva, per piegarsi alle bieche regole di un calcio fatto di tv al led, decoder digitali, poltrone vibranti e coppe di pop corn stile multisala cinematografico. Il fumogeno e il megafono sono l'anticristo per i soloni della critica tv; chi sta stravaccato sul sofà viene eletto nelle grazie celesti, definito "tifoso modello". Ciò perchè questo tipo di supporter, l'idealtipo per i puppeteers of the ball, is ready to invest hundreds of euro to buy gadgets to buy events palinseso protected, to grab the ball with the true signatures of their samples printed in limited edition. "Fan", the decisive factor in heavy and bombastic oleare gears of the mechanism of virtual football. The curve is hell because it does not generate money, which is why those who attend has downgraded the same way as would-be criminals bent to the most degrading natural laws of Hobbesian memory.

In this scenario, the memory of this wedge game, Napoli - Juventus, which is true for every event Neapolitan fan who calls himself such. In every family there is a proper Neapolitan father, a grandfather, an uncle, an older brother who harbors a deep resentment against the enormous and zebra. I hate it. Pure feeling as love, dichotomous than the latter, but equally capable of unleashing passions and impulses of feral power. In part due to an ancestral innate, partly due to hereditary issues and cultural contempt for the Bianconeri permeates every aspect of being blue fan.

And in this broth has run forged my "rooting against" the parte speculare al tifo cosiddetto sano che esiste in ogni vero tifoso. Bisogna sempre diffidare da chi sostine di non provare un odio sportivo. E sono tre le ragioni in virtù delle quali questo astio esiste ed è tangibile: storiche, antropologiche e sportive. Queste tre motivazioni, considerate nell'insieme, generano l'odio tra le tifoserie.

L'errore che spesso viene commesso dagli osservatori distratti del pallone è quello di considerare il calcio come mero momento sportivo. Forse è così per il tifoso da salotto, quello che ingrassa davanti alla pay tv, ma non le cose cambiano se il calcio è analizzato in realzione a chi lo considera una fede, una ragione di vita. E' is not it true that behind a football team lies geographical identity? Who can deny the fact that a team is a reflection of certain cultural values? And some "encounters" between fans, do not closely resemble historical battles that saw some oppose two different cities? Yes, because too many observers are all the rage (but then who has given them the right to be experts on the subject?) Forget that Italy, a country recently unified, one of the youngest democracies in the Western, was for centuries the land of the bell, for details, specific values \u200b\u200bthat many want to degrade inserting them into the cauldron of denigrating provincialism. In my opinion it is not. Globalization is a concept that is full of misleading theories strongly questioned exasperation of some particular values. And the world that does not show this every day. Football is nothing but one of these pressures that lead people to congregate around a particularistic value. The fans, those series are custodians of a set of shared values \u200b\u200bthat are opposed in essence to those of country, nation, unitary state, even if they are not the primary purpose of breaking down these entities just mentioned.

For this and other reasons, Napoli - Juve the game. It depends, as is clear not only in the rectangular array verde, ma soprattutto sugli spalti. Naturale che la componente agonistica sia di fondamentale importanza. Senza la sfida in campo tutto il resto non esisterebbe. E anche la mia passione per il calcio s'è sedimentata grazie a questo match.

Ho ricordi vivi degli incontri tra le due squadre. Molte delusioni. Tante, forse toroppe a fronte del gioco espresso; ma ricordo anche soddisfazioni inenarrabili, forse rese ancor più grandi dalla rarità con la quale si sono manifestate. Anche se, invero, dall'86 a '91 c'eravamo, noi partenopei, anche abituati ad una certe regolarità nell'annichilire la "vecchia signora".

This luster is more joy than pain. Napoli won, Naples city is redeemed. E 'Napoli of Maradona, but not all. Careca, Bathrooms, Alemao, Jordan, Carnival, a number of players with undoubted qualities that form the framework that allows you to enhance the play of Diego. And with these and other men Napoli scoops Turin in November 1986, Capion the first flag.

nine when I was about to do and my faith was strong already, but that game heroic helped to strengthen it. I listened to the game from the brand new radio that my father had bought a few months earlier. I remember her still, a black Toshiba, elegant, with the door to a dark red boxes. A habit of brio austerity of Japan's technology. On either side two-way speaker, with an elegant beaded border frame. The retina showed that the speakers protege malepena in the membrane that move, pushed by the activities of the commentators of "all the soccer minute by minute." I do not remember who he was connected from Torino, but I remember well the various interventions that went to seal a historic Sunday. I remember the terror of Manfredonia on the pole. "Juve unfortunate," he announced solemnly the speaker. Turin was one of the main field and we were able to listen to long stretches of the first movement on the whole balanced, in which the goalkeeper committed Maradona Juventus on the usual punishment, which at the time of the Ottoman Empire in my child, almost tantamount to a penalty.

The second half opened with much greater vigor. Juve square with an undeserved 1-0 Laudrup. The envoy emphasized the network from Turin and our reactions were, as usual extravagant. Unspeakable epithets were expressed by my neighbor from my brother and others present. But the comeback took place in no time. From the corner of two actions, if I remember correctly followed live, Napoli placed a deadly thrust, a "one-two" Ferrari and Jordan imbabolò the "Lady" and caused a lonely Volpecina, with great goal from the right side, penetrate nuovamente la porta juventina.

E così il Napoli sbancò Tornino. Dal 1977, anno della mia nascita, non era mai accaduto. Credo che una vittoria precedente risalisse addirittura agli anni '50, ma non ne sono certo. L'impresa – tale fu – fu descirtta con toni enfatici e trionfali. Ricordo che furono scomodonati Re Leonida di Sparta e Alessandro Magno. I grandi condottieri della storia svestirono i loro abiti ed indossarono la divisa bianc'azzurra. Questa immagine si scolpì nella mia mente. Quella giornata fu speciale. A casa non si parlò d'altro e l'attesa del "novantesimo minuto" fu spasmodica. Valenti introdusse la giornata calcistica e il servizio fu mandato in onda, come dolce prelibato, per ultimo. Carlo Nesti narrò l'impresa e da quella partita si capì che il Napoli poteva volare verso il suo primo tricolore. Profetico fu l'Avvocato Agnelli che, nell'intervallo tra primo tempo e ripresa, fece riferimento a questa dolce emozione che si realizzò sei mesi più tardi.

Quella Napoli – Juve fu anche l'occasione per abbracciare, indirettamente, l'idea della trasferta. Un mio familiare, un'altra figura a cui devo la mia passione per i nostri colori, era uno di quei ventimila napoletani presenti allo stadio. L'indomani venne a casa. Lo ricordo afono, sorridente come un uomo che ha ricevuto la più bella notizia che potesse avere. He looked around bewildered, partly because he was greeted with a standing ovation incredible. Hugs, handshakes and pats on the back like he did the hat-trick that gave us the two points. The two points ... nostalgia for that kick.

Enzo, this is the name of my cousin, was proud as a lion after the capture of prey. Do not lived victory as a trinfo the team, but as a victory his, his friend Adventure Nicholas' or Parul obviously a professional grocer, and all other parties in the Neapolitan night at a time the capital piemonetese. Over coffee was able to retrace the entire day, with plenty detail. And the wealth was such that I remember almost every word. Also because, in later years, especially during the Christmas celebration, the alcohol and turns that made us happy, I did quell'epopea triumphant retelling. And he, as a hen who saw me grow into a faith that we shared, was happy to repeat for the hundredth time details that excite him even today, after more than 20 years. He told of the departure of the express train Napoli - Torino took the night. He told of the characters in "train". He spoke of a sleepless night spent playing cards, to sing songs to each station, to share 'to Marenne "with fellow adventure. He told of approaching "Comunale" mentre la massa umana colorata di bianc'azzurro cantava e si sbracciava. E sono sempre stato persuaso del fatto che Enzo non ne avesse saltato uno, visto il filo di voce col quale raccontava. Ci disse delle emozioni negative provate al gol della Juve, ci raccontò con le lacrime agli occhi del pareggio e del vantaggio, ci spiegò le prese per il culo riservate agli juventini e poi condivise con noi una scena di una drammaticità e di una poesia uniche, un'immagine che non ho mai rimosso e che mi ha fatto capire cosa voglia dire tifare davvero per il Napoli, fregandosene di tutto e di tutti, fottendosene del mondo che ci circonda, dei problemi della vita, del lavoro, delle preoccupazioni quotidiane.

The event occurs at the third goal. My cousin is in the ring inferirore place. When it throws in the Volpecina triggers an uproar imaginable. While the blue cheering supporters, Enzo sees a man fall from the second ring, probably pushed down because of the pleasure-loving crowd unleashed after the signature. Normally such a scene would cry out to the drama. A normal person, and rushes over six feet, should be painted on the face of terror. This nameless hero instead, meter falls, you do not care to think about the impact, but continues to cheer. Enzo's face lights up as he tells what happened: "It 's been something spectacular, as he fell screaming and waving goooooool in ecstasy. "It may seem grotesque or surreal, but explains what that meant home win for Juventus. The indomitable spirit of Naples and the fans were later instrumental in reversing the result, and opening up, in fact, the race to the flag.

But in that championship we took off other satisfactions. giorine In return we won well at the San Paolo and I was fortunate to attend that match. I remember the goal Romano, who gave the victory to Naples. I was in the corner and I remember one of the most dramatic roar of my life. The same experience next year when I hit with my lady with goals from De Napoli and Maradona.

La stagione 1988-89 fu sfortunata i campionato. Se ricordo bene, il Napoli le prese sia a Torino che al San Paolo, ma quello fu l'anno della Coppa Uefa. Tutti sappiamo come andò: 2-0 a Torino e spettacolare rimonta al San Paolo. Ricordo la faccia di mio fratello quando fece ritorno da "tutto azzurro", attuale azzuro service, dove s'era recato a comprare i biglietti. All'epoca se volevi acquistare un biglietto avevi tre opzioni: 1) Tutt'azzurro, con relativa fila kilometrica; 2) Sede del CUCB a piazza Cavour dove i servetti di "Palummella" avevano il placet societario a distribuire i tagliandi; 3) Compravendita con il bagarino. Spesso si sceglieva quest'ultima strada, più comoda, anche se prevedeva la "Surcharge". And then, it should be noted, that touts a time-table had the opportunity to purchase almost all stocks of credits that the company was offering. Well, that day, Nicholas, my brother, had tried everything. The three options were covered, but the price was prohibitive. The field "popular", the current separate infer cost a fortune. I, being still young, I could enter for free, but it was nevertheless accompanied by an adult. Adult, such as water in the desert, could not find. And then, perhaps out of solidarity with my brother who had been saddened also well as a pine forest in the sun of summer, I decided not to try option Enzo, however, was already "booked". So we watched the match on RAI.

In every building there is a respectable Juventus. It was also in my. And it was one of the best friends of my brother. Superirore lived on the floor. I still remember her screams when the rabbit's second goal gave Juventus in Turin. So the game was seen as a challenge in the challenge. History, culture, football and revenge come together in a mix espolosivo like dynamite. The match was a triumphant cavalcade: Maradona, Carnevale Renica and they sent us to heaven and threw him into despair Juventus on the sixth floor. I still remember running barefoot up the stairs with my mother, who followed us shouting "and scaaaaarp, è spuorc 'nterra!". Valicate le due rampe di scale trovammo la porta aperta. C'era Emanuele – questo il nome del gobbo – con le mani sul volto e, tutto intorno, i suoi fratelli intenti a ridicolizzarlo. Ci unimmo ai cori di giubilo e di scherno e l'unica cosa che seppe dire fu "usicte al prossimo turno". Mai anatema fu più debole. Il Napoli stravinse la coppa Uefa, regalando l'ennesima soddisfazione di quel periodo glorioso. Evidentemente le grandi stagioni del Napoli sono sempre precedute da vittorie contro la juve. Chissà che anche ques'tanno non sia la stessa cosa...

Ricordo vivo fu la vittoria dell'anno die mondiali, quando un doppio Maradona e Francini risposero the severity of De Agostini. On this occasion there were no problems of note. The San Paolo was still half yard because of the imminent global competition and, thanks to the crack of my brother who found the caves from which to enter the sly, the championship that year we were kindly offered by the company that had contracted out the work. Those girls did so well that I knew to the world of the curve. In those years I began to understand the dynamics of the ultras world that, although different from now, certainly harder and less collegiate, with this shared fundamental values: friendship, brotherhood and commonality of purpose, loyalty to his friend in trouble , compactness in front of the opponent. Those experiences have been decisive in shaping my idea of \u200b\u200bfootball and I never tire of thanking those who brought me to follow him despite his age a little mature. If my parents had known all of this is likely the stadium would have only seen the binoculars from the hill of Camaldoli. But without some antics in the age of discernment does not help to forge a character and shape a faith.

Perhaps the most memorable was the Napoli v Juventus win 5-1 in the Italian Super Cup, after winning a second championship. This time there were no problems of note, that I had to do because the stadium was secured. Silence Double, Double Careca and Crippa, ridiculed Juve who tried to react only with 3-0 on a penalty kick by Roberto Baggio. A dream come true: the goleada the old whore. Five explosions, five ejaculations of joy in the face five cazzoti Lawyer Agnelli. Five stones removed from shoes, five schiff wallpaper and returned to the sender, five hard-nosed screaming barking up the droogs who bowed his head acknowledging their inferiority in the field and in the stands. And yes, the hunchback has always known, even in times of glory, that his supporters had not much when compared to horde Naples. A St. Paul always packed, travel always solid, with stadiums that were invaded. I remember the Olipe invaded Rome forty thousand Naples. I remember the hill Montemario with people camped out to peep the game. And the dominant colors were white and blue, not red and yellow.

That jolly 5-1 lived in curve B, of which I have a vivid memory of every moment, was probably the swan song of Naples. From that moment everything would change. Maradona will go away, the leadership will impoverish many disaffected fans. The 90 will swing: high (few) and downs (many). It will be a slow descent into oblivion. The Naples fall into the abyss and will be enveloped by the mist that will manifest itself in the eternal people Corbelli and Naldi. Ferlaino will hand to a little man from Brescia that we will know the shame worse: a stop in the chair. These, television showman, will hand in Naldi, hotel entrepreneur from the darkened mind, with little money, a lot of dreams and no plans. The series B, A, B still Hundreds of players, dozens of coaches. Executives of all sorts. "Pavaresia-leccapalle" "Better at the table with the wine at the stadium Ferlaino," "Look inside the box office and there are Corbelli Ferlaino. So recite famous banners. 3000 subscribers, closed curves, eternal context. Then the failure, the supreme humiliation for those who live soccer. The accounts in the hands of the editor, protests to the civil court of Naples, spent entire afternoons by myself in Castel Capuano idignazione hatred and to yell for Carraro to Naldi, for all that the system had a dream mortified. Series C. Gela, Sassari, Sora, Avellino ... province of pitches that we were in when I was there. Juve was far away, a mere memory. That part of the late '80s were just nostalgic topics of discussion among fans waiting for the kick-off. Final play-off, another bitter pill. Then the victory of the season, the series B. Occasional singing "'or surdato' nammurato. The curves that we try not to overly festaggiare. On the other hand is just a fucking promotion to Serie B. But after years of frustration, of toads swallowed, kilometers of ground in the stadiums more absurd, the conquest of the series B was seen as the victory of the champions league.

Fate and fraudulent practices of the leadership juvetina (how many thefts by hunchback in the dark days of Naples) meant that the long history of opposition between Napoli and Juventus continausse, also in "lower division" that category that had never torninesi CONOS and who knew the worst and most shameful manner, with relegation for sporting fraud.

That year we faced Juventus in the Italian Cup and eliminated. Game with incredible upside of Cannavaro, which opens on penalties. In the league there was un altro pareggio in casa, con gol in rimonta di Bogliacino. Ma questa è storia recente, che tutti sanno ed è inutile dilungarsi.

Juve – Napoli 2 - 3 di questo campionato, è il cerchio che si chiude. E con esso si chiudono i miei ricordi inerenti a questa partita. Con una vittoria cominciava il racconto, con una vittoria si chiude. Ma non si chiude la storia delle battaglie tra queste due squadre. Altre pagine saranno scritte, altro amore sarà profuso, altro odio sarà riservato per i bianconeri. Il calcio è cambiato. Tonino Carino se n'è andato, Necco è un simpatico vecchietto che saltuariamente fa capolino sulle tv locali, "tutto il calcio minuto per minuto" must fight with the "stew" and the "fucking" pay-tv. The Sunday sports propina goals already seen dozens of times and "ninetieth" Rai returned to mother after years of exile on private TV. It is played on Saturdays at 6:00 and 20:45. There is a delay on Sunday, next year we will play well at 12:30, is the man of the match sky, the slow-motion three-dimensional radar to punishment, the Skycam ... the virtual stadium. Copernican revolution. But some things are always the same. The ultras never dies. The state represses and he raises the strongest, the law limits him and he is spreading more and more, trying to sweep it away and is growing strong as a proud and ancient olive tree. The stages are renewed (or at least should do so), not the old grudges. New ones are born and old sediment. The growing love for the shirt, the hatred of the enemy increases.

In 1986 I was eight, nine to be done. Now I'm 32. I'm still here to suffer, laugh, cry, angry and swearing to a faith. Time goes, old habits remain. Next Ultras ...