Questi giorni in cui si parla tanto di calcio tra scandali ed europei, mi riportano a qualche anno fa..
Era l’estate 2006, la tensione cresceva giorno dopo giorno in tutta la penisola e nella Città Eterna spuntavano come funghi venditori improvvisati di maglie, bandiere e trombette… Sì, l’Italia era in finale per i mondiali di calcio contro la Francia.
Più passavano i giorni, più si avvicinava l’estate piena, ed il sole sempre più rovente snervava i cittadini già in presa ad un’ansia da prestazione per l’evento imminente. Stavo con Pung, le birre rinfrescavano le nostre gole mentre i treni passavano ed immortalavamo momenti, quando tra tutti questi suoni di trombe e i tricolori che ormai monopolizzavano i colori della città, ci venne un’idea: giocare anche noi questa partita..ma a modo nostro.
Così arrivò il fatidico giorno…
Le squadre si preparavano negli spogliatoi e noi agitavamo gli spray mentre il loro tintinnio veniva mangiato dal suono dei clacson…l’adrenalina che saliva si poteva sentire in tutta la città…si poteva quasi tastarla con le dita.
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| L' Italia scende in campo. |
Roma ad un tratto si svuotò e le strade diventarono quelle di una città fantasma. Si sentiva solo un suono, un unico suono, come un’eco…era quello del cronista sulla tv nazionale.
Era arrivato il momento di scendere…in campo…
Le Squadre si posizionarono e l’arbitro fischiò l’inizio. Era iniziata la partita, ed in contemporanea anche la nostra. Scattammo subito sulla fascia, driblammo i difensori e arrivammo davanti alla porta.
Nel mondo sotterraneo non c’erano nazioni che giocavano…c’era solo il silenzio ed il profumo di fuliggine che solo un tunnel metropolitano ti sa regalare. Le uniche cose percettibili erano il suono dei nostri passi e le metro che passavano in servizio attivo.
Lo scorrere del tempo sembrava avere una relatività mai percepita prima. A volte secondi sembravano ore ed a volte minuti sembravano secondi. Non sapevamo cosa stesse accadendo all’esterno. Sapevamo solo che il nostro obiettivo era quello di segnare il prima possibile. La nostra partita non aveva 2 tempi…giocavamo con il golden gol.
Lo scorrere del tempo sembrava avere una relatività mai percepita prima. A volte secondi sembravano ore ed a volte minuti sembravano secondi. Non sapevamo cosa stesse accadendo all’esterno. Sapevamo solo che il nostro obiettivo era quello di segnare il prima possibile. La nostra partita non aveva 2 tempi…giocavamo con il golden gol.
Il caldo nel tunnel era infernale…ogni metro che passava ci regalava un soffio d’aria fresca, ma era come un serpente… sì la metro era come un serpente che ti incanta con la sua bellezza e poi ti morde…ogni suo passaggio era un’arma a doppio taglio che mentre ci regalava aria fresca, spingeva la stessa aria afosa che portava via carica dell’odore degli spray verso la stazione dove c’erano i difensori…
Le braccia si muovevano simultaneamente come un direttore d’orchestra, ma a 180 bpm..il sudore appesantiva la mia maglietta…
Sentivo passare lo scorrere del tempo come il ticchettio di un timer, ma non avevo tempo di vedere realmente quanto fosse passato dal fischio d’inizio.
Finalmente riuscimmo a segnare 2 gol…2 wholecar con gli stessi colori, gli stessi che tenevano incollati milioni di persone davanti una scatola di plastica. Finimmo con un sincronismo quasi alla Holly e Benji, ma la cosa più brutta è che segnammo i 2 gol ma non potemmo esultare.
Scrissi da un lato del mio wholecar “Chi in panchina…chi in banchina” e dall’altro ARF 2 – Security 0.
Uscimmo all’esterno ed il tempo sembrava essere rimasto invariato. C’era la stessa situazione antecedente al calcio d’inizio. La nostra partita era finita, ma di quella in tv non era ancora finito il 1° tempo.
Salimmo in macchina ed alla radio il risultato era di parità 1-1. Appena girato l’angolo mi ricordo che esultammo e ci abbracciammo gridando, mentre qualche passante guardava verso la nostra macchina da cui uscivano queste grida, incomprensibili a chiunque…le uniche in tutta la città.
Raggiungemmo gli altri a casa di Poe. Quando arrivammo era già iniziato il 2° tempo e c’era lo stesso clima di tensione monopolio di tutta la città. Nessuno ci diede troppa attenzione o chiese qualcosa a parte il “tutto ok?” Indubbiamente se stavamo lì con un sorriso stampato in faccia, rispetto ai musi atterriti di tutti, la nostra partita l’avevamo già vinta. La madre di Poe ci diede quel che rimaneva della cena e ci unimmo agli altri per seguire il match.
Entrammo anche noi in quel vortice che ti risucchia come un buco nero. Finì anche il secondo tempo, successivamente anche i supplementari, e si passò ai rigori…
La gola chiusa ostruiva il passaggio di quel poco di saliva che si riusciva a formare in bocca…poi ad un tratto il boato…l’Italia era di nuovo campione del mondo dopo 24 anni ma per noi era come se Roma si fosse accorta che la "nostra" partita era finita. Iniziarono i festeggiamenti ovunque.
Andammo in centro e, tra il delirio più totale di suoni rumori e colori, ci fu un momento in cui nella mia testa si abbassò il volume dell’ambiente circostante…pensai ai security contenti e presi dai festeggiamenti ed a come sarebbero mutate le loro facce quando si sarebbero trovati la metro davanti agli occhi, ed a come gli stessi colori che amavano e che fino ad un’attimo prima gli avevano regalato tanta gioia, in un battito di ciglia avrebbero stravolto il loro umore e gli avrebbero portato un vagone di problemi…anzi 2….ed infine pensavo al serpente che dormiva nel suo silenzio, ignaro di tutto ciò che stava accadendo in superficie, pronto solo ad uscire la mattina seguente e mostrare la sua nuova muta.
Il volume ri-aumentò mentre un sorriso mi squarciò il volto e mi lasciai trascinare dal suono di Roma e dalla pazzia che regnava sovrana in una notte.
Neor ARF HP
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| Neor e Pung vincono i Mondiali di Calcio Underground. Linea A, 2006. |
English:
Those on the bench...those on the platform
These days there's a lot of talk about soccer, between scandals and European championships, and my mind goes back a few years...
It was the summer of 2006, and tension was mounting day after day in the whole peninsula, and street vendors selling t-shirts, flags, and horns started appearing like mushrooms in the Eternal City...Yes, Italy was in the finals against France in the World Cup.
As the days passed, the summer got closer and closer and with it an ever more scorching sun unnerved the people, already going through a performance anxiety for the upcoming event. I was with Pung and the beers refreshed our throats as the trains went by, immortalizing moments, when among the sounds of the horns and the Italian flags that by then were monopolizing the colors of the city, we had an idea: to play this match ourselves...but our own way.
So the fateful day arrived...
The teams prepared in the locker rooms as we shook the cans and their tinkling was ... by the sound of honking cars...you could feel the adrenalin growing in the whole city, you could almost touch it with your fingers.
At a certain point Rome became empty and its streets turned into those of a ghost-town. The one and only sound you could hear was that of the commentator on national TV.
It was now time for us to take the field...
The teams took their position and the referee whistled the start of the game. Their match had started, and so had ours. We sprung to the side, dribbling the defenders and getting in front of the goal.
In the underground world there were no nations playing...all there was, was the silence and scent of grime that only a subway tunnel can offer. The only perceptible things were the sound of our steps and the in-service subways going by.
The flow of time seemed to possess a relativity never before perceived as such. At times seconds seemed like hours, and minutes seemed like seconds. We had no idea what was going on outside. All we knew was that our aim was to score as soon as possible. Our match wasn't made up of 2 halves...we were playing with th Golden Goal.
The heat in the tunnel was infernal...every subway that went by gave us a breath of fresh air, but was like a serpent...yes, the subway was like a snake that enchants you with its beauty and then bites you...every subway passing was like a double-edged sword. While it brought fresh air, it also drove that same muggy air loaded with the smell of paint all the way to the station where the defenders were...
Our arms swung from side to side like those of an orchestra director, but at 180 bpm...the sweat was making my t-shirt heavy...
I could feel time passing like the ticking of a timer, but I had no time to actually see how much time had elapsed since the beginning of the match.
Finally we managed to score 2 goals...2 wholecars with the same colors. Those same colors that held millions of people stuck to a plastic box. We both finished with incredible synchronism, but the worst thing was that we scored 2 goals but could not cheer out loud.
I wrote on one side of my wholecar “Chi in panchina…chi in banchina" (Those on the bench...and those on the platform), and on the other side "ARF 2 - Security 0"
We got to the surface and time seemed like it had stood still. There was the same situation there had been before the match had started. Our match was over, but the one on TV was still in its first half.
We got in the car and the radio informed us that the result was 1-1. As we turned the corner we rejoiced and hugged each other as passers-by looked towards our car, unable to understand why we were the only ones in the whole city yelling.
We met up with the others at Poe's house. When we got there the second half had already started and the same tension monopolizing the whole city. Nobody really payed too much attention to us, apart from an "everything all right?" Undoubtedly if we were there with smiles on our faces, compared to their terrified looks, it means we had already won our match. Poe's mom gave us what was left over from their dinner and we joined the others watching the game.
We too entered that vortex as if sucked into a black hole. The second half ended, then over-time as well, and the match proceeded to penalty shots...
My throat blocked the little saliva that was forming in my mouth...then suddenly a roar...Italy was world champion again after 24 years, but for us it was as if Rome had just awakened to the fact that "our" match had been won. Celebrations started everywhere.
I could feel time passing like the ticking of a timer, but I had no time to actually see how much time had elapsed since the beginning of the match.
Finally we managed to score 2 goals...2 wholecars with the same colors. Those same colors that held millions of people stuck to a plastic box. We both finished with incredible synchronism, but the worst thing was that we scored 2 goals but could not cheer out loud.
I wrote on one side of my wholecar “Chi in panchina…chi in banchina" (Those on the bench...and those on the platform), and on the other side "ARF 2 - Security 0"
We got to the surface and time seemed like it had stood still. There was the same situation there had been before the match had started. Our match was over, but the one on TV was still in its first half.
We got in the car and the radio informed us that the result was 1-1. As we turned the corner we rejoiced and hugged each other as passers-by looked towards our car, unable to understand why we were the only ones in the whole city yelling.
We met up with the others at Poe's house. When we got there the second half had already started and the same tension monopolizing the whole city. Nobody really payed too much attention to us, apart from an "everything all right?" Undoubtedly if we were there with smiles on our faces, compared to their terrified looks, it means we had already won our match. Poe's mom gave us what was left over from their dinner and we joined the others watching the game.
We too entered that vortex as if sucked into a black hole. The second half ended, then over-time as well, and the match proceeded to penalty shots...
My throat blocked the little saliva that was forming in my mouth...then suddenly a roar...Italy was world champion again after 24 years, but for us it was as if Rome had just awakened to the fact that "our" match had been won. Celebrations started everywhere.
We went downtown, and among the utter sounds, noise, and colors, there was one moment during which the volume of the surrounding atmosphere lowered in my mind...my thoughts went to the security guards that were all happy and taken by the celebrations and of how their expression would have changed the moment they saw the subway, and how those same colors they loved and that just a few moments earlier had given them so much joy, in the blink of an eye would bring them a carriage full of problems...actually 2 carriages full of problems...and at last I thought about the serpent sleeping in its own silence, unaware of all that was happening on the surface and ready to go out the next morning to display its new skin.
The volume increased as I smiled and was dragged away by the sound of Rome and the madness that reigned supreme that night.
Neor ARF HP
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| Neor and Pung win the underground World Championship, 2006. |
