Genoa – A year has passed and Luca is gone forever. A year has passed and Luca is there, among his friends, because calling them ex-teammates, at least in the case of Sampdoria, is reductive; Luca is there among those who knew him and those who didn't know him but he supported him, loved him, respected him, loved him; and Luca is also among those who were too young to have seen him on the pitch but he learned who he was. Luca Vialli passed away the day before a sad Epiphany a year ago, and how much we miss seeing him squint his green eyes, laugh with a laugh that started at the corner of his mouth. LAUGH.
Maybe this is why every time people ask me the first image that comes to mind is of Gianluca Vialli a small anecdote, a retreat joke. The egg. Summer 1989, Attilio Lombardo is one of the new arrivals at Sampdoria. He comes from Cremona, like Vialli five years earlier. Post-training relaxation: Vialli and Attilio dribble with their heads with a ping pong ball, Luca works an illusionist's magic, taking away the very light plastic sphere in an instant and replacing it with an egg with an immaculate shell, his new partner hits with his head and splash. General laughter.
The last memory, however, is of that November 27, 2022, at the Porto Antico, the preview of “The beautiful season”: Luca tested by illness and proud of the realization of that project he cared so much about. Or are they the images of the intimate interview with Cattelan, in which Luca says that he will not die of old age and that “our children need an example more than words”. And the example he tries to give is “that you don't have to put on airs, you have to know how to listen, you have to always try to improve yourself, do good and laugh a lot.”
Laughing, a thread that unites Gianluca, an emerging young boy in Italian football but always with the ability – the intelligence – to play down the drama with Luca Vialli as a man, in adulthood. Knowing how to approach life with acumen, irony and self-irony. Lightness, never superficiality. Empathy. Luca enjoyed that life. Football and an uncommon vitality. A paradox thinking about his premature death. “I couldn't give up two things: my health and my freedom,” he said. It was for this reason – which was the way of understanding life and football of Luca, Roberto and all the others in that group – that no one wanted to leave Sampdoria. Which had become a kind of phenomenon followed step by step by national media correspondents – from Cristina Parodi to Syria Magri, now wife of the governor of Liguria Toti, to Paolo Condò. The lunches and dinners in the restaurants of the city's Eastern , Vialli, Mancini, Mannini, Arnuzzo, Soncini, Montali), the phone calls from exotic holiday locations to find out the latest market news, the pressure to get his nose into the lineup, with Boskov saying yes and doing his own thing.
And then you ended up having to enter Mantovani's presidential office on your knees, to give the president the chance to say no to Berlusconi and Galliani: in Genoa there is the sea, in Milan at most the lakes in the parks; no, I don't want to go to Milan. Signed Gianluca Vialli, precisely. Stories of authentic relationships, even with journalists, in times when the filter of press officers did not exist. Everyone on the terrace in front of the dressing room door, at the “Mugnaini”, with Bosotin, the Ultras warehouse worker, who kept the wait going by telling jokes and doing memorable imitations of characters from the Sampdoria band. “But how did you manage to only give me a 6 on your report card?” one or the other would ask on Monday morning. Because Uncle Vuja maintained that it was better to grant freedom from the afternoon of the following day, to avoid, as far as possible, excesses immediately after the match. «Do you want to interview me? But if you prefer Roberto…” Luca narrowed his eyes with a bit of feigned, but not entirely, jealousy at the “left-handed” journalist.
And, at the time, you agreed on the interview on the spot: “Luca, shall we talk?”. Luca, the year he won the Scudetto, remained silent for months at the time of his metatarsal injury. Luca was never banal. He wouldn't have been even when, after the adventure that ended badly with Elton John's Watford, he decided that he would chose a career as a commentator for Sky. “Either the best or nothing.” On the one hand, a life traveling around the world, stress and perhaps insults. On the other, the possibility of experiencing football, telling it intelligently and not taking away time from his women, his daughters Olivia and Sofia and his former South African model wife Cathtryn. In short, he once confessed to me in an interview, “if he calls Juventus it makes sense, otherwise I'll continue to go on TV”. Digression closed.
During his time at Sampdoria, Luca had a way of saying no to interviews even with journalists with whom he had a good relationship: taking them out of tiredness. Training finished at noon. An hour later where is Luca? “To give massages,” reported the messenger Boso. And at 2pm: “he's taking a shower, then he'll have to dry his hair…”. At 2.20pm he went out with an ostentatiously hurried step: “Guys, it's late, I'm going to lunch, see you…”. Then came the day when he wanted to talk, to have a real chat. «The goal, for me, is like an orgasm». Title! Or, at the unfortunate Italia 90 World Cup, the unfinished Samp Band, the spark to ignite the championship redemption: «When the going gets tough, the tough come into play», quoting John Belushi.
We all know the rest: the wonderful story of the Twins and their affection, with a small argument that lasted four days, in their entire life; the goals, the Champions League and the captain's armband with Lippi's Juve; the triumphs with Chelsea; that role of team manager advisor so important in the victory of the European Championship with Mancio on the bench, the hug on the Wembley lawn; the unrealized dream of becoming president of his Sampdoria. Luca, you are missed dearly, but deep down you never left.
#memory #Vialli #year #death
