If interested
From the book "Rossoneri Comunque"
It's all Castellini's fault (by Umberto Nigri)
I'm sitting in front of this bastard of a shrink and my mind goes back to where and when it all started. He asks me my name, age, occupation: I answer in detail, taking my time. Whilst telling him "I'm a sports journalist" my mind goes back to that day - Me and my brother are playing ping-pong, the radio is switched on, Milan is trailing by 2 goals away to Cesena, it's the last game of season 1981-82.....
I think I've been waiting for this moment for the past 20 years. I've chosen the best psychiatrist in Rome, and now I'm sitting in front of him, telling him that as a kid I used to play ping-pong, that that ping-pong is a beautiful game, though lately new rules have polluted the essence of the game, but this is not the POINT. The Point is that on the 16th May 1982 I was playing ping-pong so I did not have to think about anything else, I did not have to think about my loved Milan, that is losing 2-0, and if nothing happens will be relegated in Serie B because Genoa is winning 1-0 in Napoli and a damn miracle is needed: ergo Milan winning and Genoa losing. The miracle suddenly becomes reality, Joe Jordan scores and Romano equalises, and now even Napoli is drawing. No, Napoli is now winning!!! Back to Cesena: Antonelli (Milan player) advances on the right, he dribbles two players, and shoots a "bomb"!! Enrico Ameri on the legendary live radio broadcast "Tutto il calcio minuto per minuto" suddenly bursts: "Grandissimo goal di Antonelli" (amazing goal scored by Antonelli), from the main Radio Rai studios the main anchorman Mr Bortoluzzi (a master) immediately updates placings and states: "At this moment and time Milan is
safe"- I'm happy, aware that I will never be this happy in all my life. I'm thirteen I scream from the bottom of my lungs: "Siamo salvi" (We're safe). Whilst screaming, I think that my life will be always beautiful with lovely things happening on a daily basis, that in the end justice always triumphs, always.
In the mean time Milan's game has ended, Napoli vs Cesena unfortunately not. Castellini (Napoli's GK) "gifts" a corner kick, lthe following day described on "Gazzetta dello Sport" as a GIFT. Genoa takes their corner kick and Faccenda, that had entered the pitch only seven minutes earlier, scores his first Serie A goal through a header. :sob:
Later, duringin the press conference, he tells reporters, he had already missed 7 goals that season, and that this one I could not miss, cause it meant Genoa in Serie A, and relegation for Milan :deress:
Now I'm 33 and sitting in fron of Mr. B (the initial of the shrinks name that obviously I will not name but does really exist) wearing my "good suit", the one I weared during my College Graduation day, the one I only wear when somebody gets married, because this is D Day, a day I've been waiting upon for the last 20 years. 20 long years to finally find revenge from that bastard of Castellini that did it on purpose. I'm positive about this. Nobody can state the contrarary. Anyway Mister B does really exist, matter of fact he's telling me that within any individual you will find a childhood trauma, though I'm advantaged cause I "know" exactly what caused my trauma, though he evaluates it as strange one; objectively strange.
Bla bla bla bla bla bla, he describes my trauma in detail... yes Mister B does exist and proof of that is the 110 Euros he $crewed me.
After a little while with firm voice, looking directly in his eyes I say: "I'm 33 years old Mr. B ,that day I stopped believing that my life would be beautiful and that lovely things would happen to me and that in this World it's boolocks justice always triumphs, and, in the end, there will always be somebody ready to $crew you".
Mister B fails understand, he evaluates that my personal story is well detailed, but still does not understand, unless, he says, you don't think that Castellini did it on purpose.:eek: Wow you got it in the end, sure he did it on purpose, have you ever seen a goalkeeper "deliver" the ball backwards instead of forward? Mr B admits he has never seen such thing.
Mr B adds, "even if Catellini did it on purpose, we must understand, now that we're aware that you think that Luciano Catellin purpousely $crewed you that day, and that from that day onwards you believe there is no day in which you haven't been $crewed, like you've been telling me, we must now try to understand: how all this affects life, even though let me frankly advise you: It would have been far better if your life was affected by something more important, something like seeing a snake, a dying animal, assisting a relative during his last moments, being dumped by a girlfriend, something objectively more important than Castellini".
I don't answer, and think that I well aware that in life there are things more important than Castellini, for sure! But what can I do if I've been asked to write a story on Milan, and that the first thing that came to my mind was Luciano Castellini? What can I do, if when overview my entire life the first thing that "comes" to my mind is Milan :heart: and when thinking of Milan, I recall only sad or insignificant moment like Pasinato playing with us in Serie B, Stefano Chiodi that misses a goal, Gianni Rivera speaking to US prior to Milan vs Bologna instructing all the tifosi to move back cause otherwise we'll lose the match 2-0?
My mind goes back to Beppe Viola (a Milan fan journalist that died young), and his "Domenica Sportiva" match reports, cause Beppe Viola was the best, and you would not admit that either dear Mr B; instead of feeding me all your bull$hit: "We must understand Mr Umberto Nigri if you are suffering from schizophrenic delirium and consequently, self inflicting delirium or ..........."
I stop listening to him, my mind wonders back to my "sad" thoughts, to Marco Van Basten, his farewell day, that BTW is the saddest day in Red&Black history. I recall every second of that "goodbye": Van Basten running in his jeans, reindeer jerkin and pink shirt in tears. Milan and Juventus lined up at midfield, Van Basten lifts his right arm, Van Basten taking a looooong breath, Costacurta passing in front of him, Billy has his tong out to prevent him from crying. Van Basten shakes hands with Collina, actually it's Collina that takes his hands in his own. Close up of Marco's eyes filled with tears, the speaker announces his name, supporters give him a standing ovation, his last. The close-up lasts twelve seconds.... I'm nearly crying in front of this
coglione (scumbag) that is telling me that I could be suffering of some strange mental problem. I don't understand, I cannot understand, I'm going to cry. I've seen these images thousands of times, and every single time it's the same. Marco Van Basten is now running across the pitch, his arm up in the sky, they are joined together for a final applause, the cameraman backs up. Van Basten "becomes" smaller, he's in centre field, it's the most beautiful of images; I'm about to cry, I'm crying. Luckily Mister B is so taken away by his diagnosis to even notice, he's saying that maybe it's not schizophrenic delirium but something else, and starts telling me a story regarding his childhood.... Van Basten is standing in midfield and I'm with him, close-up
bellissimo. If a movie, shortly credits would be a must, slow motion and
moving music too. I'm now openly crying, I can't stop, my mind goes back to the
finale of Martin Scorsese's film "The age of innocence", when the camera pans up to the window of "her": Delen Olenska-Michelle Pfeiffer, and Neuland Archer-Daniel Day Lewis is down below, in the middle of the "shot", small and far away, just like Marco Van Basten a second ago. At that point Ted arrives and says "he's on the third floor", together they look up and Ted says "It must be the one with curtains"
Him: I think I'll sit for a moment (he sits)
Ted: Don't you want to come?
Him: I don't know, Ted you go, maybe I'll follow
Ted: What should I tell her?
Him: Don't you always have something to say?
Ted: I'll just say your old style a you prefer walking three flights of stairs that taking the elevator.
Him: (pause) just tell her I'm old style
Close up of Him, close-up on Her banging window, a sun beam strikes a reflection of Her; the camera is back on Him, his eyes are shut, in the background the Ocean appears, and Her face is
upon it, she's smiling, Marco Van Basten crying...
Whilst all this is "happening" this "********" of Mister B is insensitive, and
informs me that he no longer goes to the dentist due to happenings occured in his childhood that had something to with a bridge swept away by mud whilst going to the dentist.
In that precise moment I stopped listening. I understand what he was trying to tell me with this story, cause it even happened to me to associate a word with a sense for ever. That word is ANKLE. An anckle injury was the reason Marco Van Basten stopped playing. :scream:
At this point Mister B takes a long breath possibly meaning I'm a desperate case. Mr B then tells me that living like this is objectively "hard work"- he also adds "due to the fact that you think you are continuously conned by people, therefore trust nobody, implies a level of attention within me focused upon multi-stratus reality so:
A) Attention towards real time
B) attention towards elaborating what has just happened C) tsearch for reassurance, in particular from people you deeply care for".
After a brief but indded instence moment, Mister B adds that my "case" is fascinating especially for him because he is studying at present the "theory of chaos", and would like to know if in these 20 years I've ever thought about Luciano Cartellini, and if (I will quote Mr B's words) "Do you associate the Castellino Association with Castellini or Faccenda with Faccendieri". Whilst I try my best not to laugh, thinking that this Mister B is a complete imbecile, out of politeness I answer no. "I have never associated the image of Castellini to anything, for sure not the Catellino Association, that coincidently don't even know what the fUk is, same for Faccenda and Faccendieri"- So while I'm answering on Castellini, once again my mind goes back to Van Basten and to all the "sad" Milan days. I then ask Mister B, why does it happen, why. Every time I look back to my life and everything that is closely related to it, even on my glorious Football team, sad things come to my mind. Why?
Mr B seems indeed stroked by this question, and starts reflecting upon it, at least this it what appears to me. Suddenly he speaks out and says: "This is the point, the fundamental issue at stake" because .... "Now that 20 years have passed and whatever was the trauma that caused your distrust upon
things, even if you think that it's all Castellini's fault, even admitting that Napoli's goalkeeper, former Torino Scudetto winner, known by everybody as IL GIAGUARO (The Jaguar), due to his feline ability (I forgot to mention that Mr B is very passionate about Football), even if, IL GIAGUARO long ago fvked up, this fvck up should not ruin your life and you should stop hurting yourself, furthermore, if you want me to tell you the full story, today you don't even have a valid motive having a President like Silvio Berlusconi, with all that comes along with a man like that"
At this stage Mr B is out of control: "explain to me how on earth can you support a team that has a man like Silvio Berlusconi as president"
I interrupt Mr B and tell him that it's about time everybody should stop on this
Berlusconi story, that BTW you can offend as many times you wish; their should be a halt on everybody telling us that you can't support Milan cause Berlusconi is our President, as if he "invented" Milan, and anyway Dear Mr B all you say shows that you've never read Macomb Lowry's "Beneath the Volcano" a brilliant book, a book that narrates how you can love somebody in spite of everything.
What gives you the right dear Mr B, of accusing us Milanisti of supporting a team that has Berlusconi as president; what right, dear Mr B and all the others, do you have saying this to US. US, that have seen Marco Van Basten in tears, US that have suffered Luciano Catellini being relegated in Serie B for his fault, with our chins up.
Our Cousins the Interisti, would have actedin opposte fashion through mourning and accusations. Not US, we were indeed relegated but the following season we were in San Siro giving our unconditioned "love" to IL MILAN, in 60.000, in 70.000 like when we cheered a goal vs
mighty Cavese and a late equalizer agaists Catania, or, "goal formidabile" by Walter Alfredo Novellino in a match against Spal. A rear header, scored in a horizontal position, 20 centimetres from the ground- During those sad days I was in
THE STADIUM (San Siro) , happy, again, I travelled 1000 KM with my friend Ruggero, just to see Milan playing Cavese. Ruggero and I were born in a $hithole called Cerignola, a place were when a team wins a championship regardless of it's "division", that day everything turns wild, always. But I love that $hithole cause it's the place were I was born, just as I love Milan, always.
And so Mr B, finally: I really don't care if you don't understand, I care preserving the memory of Ruggero and me, embracing after Novellino's goal, happy to the very extreme. What I really care about is that those whom did not "live" the Castellini drama, may read this story and understand what it really means being
MILANISTA.We take shit from nobody
Forza Milan
