The come-from-behind 3-2 at Juve was historic, if nothing else because Napoli wins in Turin don’t happen very often but when they do, they usually leave a pretty deep mark and are still talked about years later.

For those who didn’t follow the game, a very good Napoli found itself down 1-0 in the first half after a brilliant strike by Trezeguet. Napoli squandered more than a few chances, and Contini allowed himself the luxury of heading a ball straight to an unmarked Giovinco in our box who easily put it in – a virtual Contini own goal. 2-0 early in the second half, and the game was apparently over. Like so many previous Juventus-Napoli clashes in Turin…

But this is a different Napoli. Juve barely had time to settle on their two goal lead before Datolo fired a great cross from the left wing. Marek Hamsik, our virtuoso extraordinaire, was there to pound it in at the far post. 2-1 and the game is wide open again!

Napoli pressed on. Corner for us. A mix in the Juve box, Buffon virtually alone in trying to keep the ball out with his defense watching, before Datolo barely manages to get his foot on the ball to tap it in. 2-2 with plenty left to play. At this point, there was only one final result that would satisfy us…

~~~

The impact of the game was such that one particular Napoli announcer made the front pages of Italy’s major newsites because of his hysterical antics after Hamsik’s winning goal (not that his demeaner throughout the game before that was tame by any means).

The scene starts with a corner for Juve. Napoli counterattacks, with Hamsik pounding on a rebound for his second goal of the game and the winner…

[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6mNT096cOE"]YouTube – Juventus-Napoli 2-3 (Hamsik gol della vittoria) Commento di Carlo Alvino[/ame]

“GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!
Mamma mia friends, forgive me for getting emotional. It’s too much! It’s too much! It’s too much! It’s too much! It’s too much! It’s too much! It’s too much! It’s too much! Mamma mia! Thank you! Thanks to God for making me a Napoli fan! Thanks to God for making me a Napoli fan! Thanks to our Lord I am a Napoli fan! Thanks to God, thanks to God I’m a Napoli fan! Thanks to God! We’re in the lead at the Olympic Stadium in Turin! I don’t want to believe it. Give me a big pinch, wake me up! It’s a dream! Give me a – no, really, give me a pinch! All of you give me a pinch! I’m dreaming! I can’t do this anymore, friends. I can’t comment anymore. I’m too emotional right now! What I’m living here in Turin’s Olympic Stadium is indescribable! The emotions we are living can’t be described in words! Down by 2, and now up by 1. Napoli believed in it!”

Alvino continued his hysterics for several minutes after the final whistle, and contributed even more quotes that we Napoli fans will be able to reference for life…

[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vWyxiAo8K0&feature=related"]YouTube – Juventus-Napoli 2-3 (ultimi minuti) Commento di Carlo Alvino[/ame]

“I AM A NAPOLI FAN!!!! I AM A NAPOLI FAN!!! I AM A NAPOLI FAN!!! I AM A NAPOLI FAN!!!!”

Not to be outdone, another historic Napoli commentator, Raffaele Auriemma, lived the moment with just as much emotion and provided even more quote material for us…

[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2QdSp9jozyA"]YouTube – JUVENTUS-NAPOLI 2-3 GOL HAMSIK ESULTANZA AURIEMMA 10 GIORNATA MEDIASET PREMIUM[/ame]

“Napoli in the lead! Napoli 3 Juventus 2! Napoli 3 Juventus 2! We want to die here! Bury us here in Turin’s Olympic Stadium, with this Napoli! Grande Napoli! Hamsik embraced by the azzurri fans! Hamsik! ‘Marekiaro!’ Two goals by Marekiaro and Napoli is in the lead! This kid is recognized by the UNESCO World Heritage Center!”

I watched most the game with my friends Roberto and Massimiliano. We incredibly had somewhere to be, so we had to leave after it was 2-2. We listened to the game on the radio in the car, just like in the “old days,” and almost got into a head-on collision with a car coming the other way, as I swerved, flashed my lights and honked my horn like crazy – not at the other car, but out of reaction to Napoli’s third goal! Though the guy in the other car probably thought I was some random asshole on the road. Unless he was listening to the game too, in which case he understood.

And speaking of the old days…

Napoli’s previous win at Juve dated back to 1988. And it wasn’t a “routine” win, rather a 5-3 goalfest. Because in those golden days, Napoli could score five goals in Turin against Juventus, and it could thrash Milan 4-1 as that club turned around and won a Champions Cup. Maradona & Co. got us so used to winning in those days that even that 5-3 win isn’t necessarily talked about as much these days, and we can be forgiven for almost neglecting it. Rather, it is the previous win before that one that truly entered the annals of Napoli (and Juve…) history in grand fashion. And it is to that game that I want to draw a few parallels…

~~~

9 November, 1986. 23 years almost to the day since last Saturday. Maradona’s Napoli and Platini’s Juventus were tied for first place when Napoli traveled to Turin’s then Comunale Stadium. Same stadium, different name…it wasn’t until the 2006 Winter Olympics that Turin’s stadium changed its name. And let’s not talk about the dreadful Delle Alpi stadium that was used for most of the past couple of decades…

Maurizio de Giovanni recounted that day in his brilliant short book entitled Juve-Napoli 1-3: The Seizing of Turin. Simply put, it is the best 40 pages written about soccer anywhere. It reads like one of my blog entries, only 40,000 better. In those few short pages, de Giovanni describes virtually every aspect of the psyche of the Napoli fan, particularly when facing northern teams and especially great ones like Juve. The inferiority complex. The condescending spirit with which northern Italians view everything Neapolitan. The inexplicable passion that drives four random dudes to drive across most of Italy against all odds. All in the name of their “faith,” because as de Giovanni states:

On that historic November day in 1986, de Giovanni and three friends drove up to Turin for the game in a car “borrowed” from the body shop of one of the guy’s father. They didn’t even know who the car belonged to, adding further to the surrealism of the experience. De Giovanni, being the better educated of the group, was the one in his words tasked with “negotiating with foreign authorities, such as the Florentine rest area cafe’ attendant or the Roman toll booth employee.” Indeed, with Italy’s dialectic differences, a lesser educated individual who speaks only his particular dialect well can be forgiven for being intimidated at the prospect of interacting with people from other parts of Italy…

Upon arriving in Turin, the crew call up a Turinese journalist friend – and big Torino fan – who offered to take them to eat at a private club across the street from the Comunale/Olimpico, where illustrious Juventus alumni normally ate prior to home games. The friendship was probably developed due to “the same destiny of being historic losers, with a great past behind us, or maybe the common zebra-like enemy.” The five men enter the club, with our four heroes all decked out in Napoli colors, much to the surprise of everyone present. The looks they got proved embarrassing to them, “but the embarrassment was soon replaced by the pride of the poor but honest.”

At one point, the men end up at a table they shared with a certain individual:

But the inferiority complex was still there. The Comunale stadium, with its illustrious past (for others) remained very intimidating, even though it was smaller than the San Paolo stadium in Naples.

The intimidation and inferiority complex didn’t end there:

De Giovanni goes on to describe in detail the physical shortcomings of the Napoli players, the one bowlegged player, the other one’s jaw, the other one’s mop of hair, all of which served to emphasize the contrast between the “aristocratic” northerns and the “poor but honest” southerners.

After a scoreless first half, Juve took the lead early in the second:
The game turned when immediately after the Juve goal, Maradona and Salvatore Bagni looked at each other and decided that they were to win this game.

~~~

Saturday’s Napoli, with Lavezzi and Hamsik, reacted to the downturn of events in much the same way. Even after Contini’s ridiculous blunder appeared to seal the fate (and outcome) of the game, Napoli responded by playing the best soccer it has played yet this season.

~~~

On that mild November 1986 afternoon, Napoli charged ahead. Even the defender Bruscolotti got off a shot:

I can’t help but think back to Aronica’s brilliant first half strike on Saturday night. All you have to do is change the name in the above quote, and the remaining details are virtually identical…

Napoli would tie that game with a goal from Ferrario Moreno off a corner kick, but it was only the beginning. “Those blessed sons of bitches wanted to win!” remarked de Giovanni on that day in 1986, as did many thousands of Napoli fans just last Saturday, on the last day of October, 2009: we blessed sons of bitches wanted to win.

And then destiny was fulfilled. Off another corner, the ensuing cross was kept in play by a header from our Renica…the ball headed towards Bruno Giordano, who could never go for the easy shot. He always had to try the impossible stunt. On that afternoon, his bravado paid off:

And after 31 October, 2009, there are many, many more of us who understand what he is talking about.

In 1986 as 2009, Napoli would score three goals. The former game, itself the first Napoli win at Juve in 29 years, marked the beginning of the most beautiful four years in Napoli’s history, a span that saw us win (up until this point) our two league titles, another Coppa Italia, and a UEFA Cup. That game exorcised decades of humiliations, inferiority complexes, and downturns, introducing us to a sort of renaissance after centuries of dark ages. Saturday’s game may not be followed by as much fortune as that game in 1986. But we wait.

Because sooner or later History comes by.

[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSfAcgsaLbM&feature=related"]YouTube – juve – Napoli 1-3 si vola verso il primo scudetto[/ame]

If you’re lucky, there are experiences in life that give you an incredible natural high which is really not all that different from the feeling of having had a couple of drinks “too many,” or some sort of toxic substance that floats your boat. I can think back, for example, on a particular U2 show from a couple of years back. The show ended with Bono screaming out lines to Patti Smith’s “People Have the Power” over the climactic final notes of “Bad,” which just so happens to be my favorite live U2 song. Walking out of DC’s Verizon Center (back then it was still called MCI Center) feeling high as a kite, walking around the streets of DC’s Chinatown (the least Chinese of any of the world’s countless Chinatowns) joyfully yelling and screaming at my friends in much the same way as when you leave a bar at closing time after…having had a couple of drinks too many (or just the right amount, depending on how you look at it). The next day or sometime thereafter I realized “wow, I felt drunk as hell at that exact moment after the show…” And all this with a whole half a beer consumed many hours prior, to emphasize how the feeling was born purely of certain moments in life.

Wednesday night’s game was another of those moments. Complete and absolute intoxication. A brain incapable of sober, uninebriated thought. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

~~~

Midweek night games are always a pain in the ass. You get off work around say 5, then you have to rush home, do whatever you have to do such as I dunno, take a nap, a crap, write an email, or just veg on the couch releasing the stress accumulated that day. Turn around quickly to head to someone’s house, meet so-and-so, so-and-so is now late, traffic, the stadium is crazy hours before kickoff, it’s sold out, hurry up and get there, all this while being unable to get a real dinner in, it may or may not be cold, it may or may not rain, see the game, turn around and eventually get home in time to take a glorified nap before you have to get up to go to work the next day and maintain some degree of functionality. Argh. Isn’t this why they invented televised soccer? It would be so much easier to get home from work and veg on said couch until kickoff several hours later and you know what? I can eat whatever I want for dinner. During the game, how’s that for civilization and progress?

But no. Some games make you realize that you have to be there. Though sometimes it takes the full 90-minutes-plus-injury-time to make you understand why.

[Open parenthesis]

One particular reason why I felt obligated to attend – that it was even a duty perhaps – is because I very recently got confirmation that I will be departing Naples in December – yes, December 2009 – to return to the US. What does this mean for my season ticket lifestyle, and this blog? Well, as far as my presence at San Paolo is concerned, the answer is obvious…as far as the blog, I would like for it to continue in some shape or form. I never materialized a couple of ideas I had kicked around over the past couple of years, so I suppose that not having the “distraction” of the games themselves to write about, I can focus on alternative things instead.

But yeah, my time in Naples is abruptly coming to a close. How do I feel about this? I could write a book about it…overall I would consider it a positive thing. It’s been a long and intense three years. At times painfully boring. At times a rollercoaster ride that would drive most people mad, or at a minimum make them develop some sort of schizophrenic disorder. You could definitely say that the constant back and forth of a lot of things has drained me greatly. I feel worn out. My relationship with the city of Naples has at times been akin to a metaphoric boxing match. After quite a few rounds, and more than a few blows to the head, I feel dazed. I might be winning on points. I might not be. I dunno. Right now I’m just trying to stay on my feet and outlast my opponent. I’m bleeding. I can’t see straight. But I see the finish line. The match is almost over.

I debated on how to tell everyone. Would the game be an appropriate setting? It didn’t seem right…and Drew agreed. At the time I am publishing this blog entry, the crew doesn’t know yet, as last night’s pizza dinner ended up not feeling like a good time either…

[/Close parenthesis]

Donatella had at first said she didn’t need a ride and she was going to be arriving at San Paolo with Anna E. of casatiello fame. As such, I told Drew to meet me at my place and we would drive together to Armando’s and in turn together to the stadium. It’s really a mathematical issue these days. Armando can fit six in his white Fiat Multipla. Himself, Attilio, Sergio, Anna, and then myself and Drew. If Donatella is brought into the equation as has been the case a few times, then I become a backup driver, taking her to the stadium separately (along with Drew in theory, though in practice I have yet to attend a game with both of them present at the same time).

Earlier in the day on the NATO base, I decided to conduct an experiment. Of a superstitious nature, of course. Remember Mina, the girl who works on base and also has a season ticket? I decided to stop by her shop to chat about the game and offer a prediction. Before Inter-Napoli, I had gone to see her and expressed my thoughts about the game, i.e. that we would be mercilessly demolished. Well, it more or less went that way. Then prior to Fiorentina-Napoli her and I had chatted positively, both of us sensing that something “special” would happen…and well, we won.

Oh, let me open another parenthesis. The game we had just won at Fiorentina on Sunday, 25 October occurred on my birthday. Napoli has a history of giving me presents on the week of my birthday. You don’t believe me? OK, how do you like this – our previous away win? Lazio-Napoli from last season. On Sunday, 26 October, 2008.

Yeah.

Still not convinced? Napoli-Roma on my 18th birthday. 1992. 2-1 win. And there are many other cases, but I’ll stop rambling and move on.

So I go to Mina’s shop and she asks me the obvious question. “Randy, what do you think?”

“Tonight we’re gonna make the Berlusconi government collapse!!!!!!” (I assume everyone knows Berlusconi is the Milan owner…)

There. My prediction officially filed away. We’ll see how it compares to previous predictions at Mina’s and their eventual outcomes.

Well, by the end of the business day, I felt drained and exhausted. Depleted. Whatever. I had no energy, and in all sincerity it took everything I had in me to make it to the stadium. I only had three games left. This was possibly the last time with Drew. Last time vs. Milan. Last time at night. My attendance was not an option.

We made it to Armando’s house. “You guys want some pasta e fasull‘??” Armando was amazingly cooking himself a plate of the famous dish. We politely declined, knowing that Anna’s frittata di maccheroni and Anna E’s casatiello were also on the menu that evening. Armando insisted, and there you go. Three portions of pasta e fasull’ served. We scarf down the very blue collar staple of the southern Italian diet, drink a little vino to go with it, and get ready to go.

Attilio had a fever. He had posted some cool stuff on Facebook earlier in the day about how he felt like crap but it didn’t matter, “tonight we all need to be at the stadium to sing our hearts out” etc. etc. He was visibly devoid of any real energy or verve, but his attendance was not an option either, so he wrapped himself up like an Eskimo to brave the night.

Anna appeared, carrying the frittata in a large bag over her shoulder. “I even put a bottle of water in there!” she said jovially. It wasn’t enough to circumvent stadium security measures by sneaking in the bottle of Borghetti each time, now she defiantly added a bottle of water to the mix. She also brought me a birthday gift – a small key chain with several lucky amulets hanging from it, including a horn. Another lucky horn! At this pace we’ll steamroll over our opponents with all these lucky horns working their magic.

On the drive over to the San Paolo, we exchanged the usual small talk. I did some interpreting for Attilio and Andrew, oh and it was also more or less around this time that Armando informed us that Donatella wasn’t coming due to illness. Argh.

We park in the usual spot and walk down to the stadium. Earlier, approximately two hours before kickoff, there was absolute pandemonium outside the stadium. We were now at the 75 minute mark more or less, and things had quieted down considerably. It was far more quiet than it should be. Why? Easy. Cos most people had incredibly already entered the stadium by then!

We were the first to arrive at our seats. Some random guy was sitting suspiciously near my seat. I was already gearing up for a possible confrontation, choosing at first to make like I was looking for my seat number. The guy turned out to be very polite and moved over with no issues.

Drew and I taking it all in

“Do you guys want your frittata now?”

“Later. Let’s settle down a bit.” After the plate of pasta, Armando wasn’t in the mood to chomp down on the frittata just yet. And neither were we.

The stadium was a sight to behold. Full. The ambiance of the night game. The vibe of a Napoli-Milan game, cos the Napoli-Livorno midweek evening encounters just don’t cut it.

That “tonight’s gonna be a good night” song by the Black Eyed Peas came over the PA. Drew got Attilio’s attention and sang along the chorus: “tonight’s gonna be a good night!” Drew made a prediction of his own. Quagliarella and Lavezzi would score. He didn’t necessarily say we would win, but those two would score. “Before Napoli-Siena, I told Attilio Hamsik would score two and he did.” Wow. I was deeply impressed, and came to believe very firmly that Quagliarella and Lavezzi would indeed score as Drew had announced…

When Dida and a small cast of Milan trainers came out to warm up, the thunderous jeers that filled the bowl that is the San Paolo were deafening. And apparently one of the trainers was guilty of a gesture not appreciated by the home crowd, and the jeering got worse and some people around threw insults at the one guy in particular, though I have no idea what he apparently did.

After eating the frittata, I decided to make a quick run to the bathroom before it got too crowded. This gave me an opportunity to get down near the bottom of the San Paolo’s one major upper level, and in very close proximity to the Napoli players who had taken the field shortly before to warm up. I stood there for a few moments and took some shots. I did this again on my way back from the restroom. Denis, who wasn’t expected to start, was warming up on his own with a trainer, and a fan kept yelling out his name in order to get his attention. Denis never turned around, but the guy wasn’t the last to yell out Denis’ name that night…

Napoli warming up

Denis warming up, before scoring the goal that may have changed his career…

Drew and I were both hunting for blood. Which is interesting because in many ways Drew himself is having difficulty adapting to life in Naples, but his enthusiasm for Napoli the team has few peers. Not very different from my experience here in three years. A tough love with the city, but an unconditional love for the team nonetheless.

Fabio chatted with someone on the cell phone. “Yeah, we sit right even with the one goal. It’s spectacular to see penalty kicks on this end. It’s great to see them here. I’m lined up just right with the goal and touchline.”

The stadium did indeed fill up badly, just as everyone had expected with this being a sellout and all. I was sandwiched in between Drew to my right and Fabio to my left. Anna E. sat directly in front of me rather than behind me in her usual seat, initially occupying Dona’s empty seat to Anna’s left but then moving to Anna’s right, allowing Jimmy’s daughter Francesca to sit there instead. To Francesca’s left, Attilio, and then Sergio to his left. I think Gigi’s son Ivan managed to squeeze in to Sergio’s left even though Gigi and he had arrived after kickoff. Gigi of course was the customary wild card who just kinda sat wherever he pleased that day. Back on my row, and Armando sat to Fabio’s left. I don’t really remember how the others were arranged. Eduardo showed up late as well, but there were no seats near us except for the one normally occupied behind me by Carlo, Anna E’s husband, though he was not in attendace. Eduardo was skeptical, and was about to ask several people to move over so he could occupy the one seat he wanted. We insisted he take the one emtpy seat and that was that. Big mistake. I’ll get to that later.

The teams came out for the presentation and opening kickoff. At least Milan had the decency of wearing their traditional red and black and not some atrocious away kit (though the classic Milan white kit they wear often is pretty classy in my opinion). The enthusiasm on the stands was palpable. The Curva B lit off some flares (according to press, police Tuesday seized a large amount of flares and paper bombs intended to be deployed by the Curva A that night), and a swarm of paper confetti filled the air before us.

“Chi non salta, e’ rossonero, oh oh oh, oh oh oh, oh oh oh, oh oh!
Chi non salta, e’ rossonero, oh oh oh, oh, oh, oh ohhhh!!“

I turned to Drew. “They are saying “he who doesn’t jump is red and black.” In accordance with the familiar chant, thousand of Napoli fans were jumping up and down furiously, including Fabio to my left.

The game started. I couldn’t decide whether I should witness the actual opening kick or not. It’s one of those superstitious rituals that seems to fluctuate with the times. Sometimes I have to see it, sometimes I have to turn away. I couldn’t remember where I had left off.

It mattered little. Milan had the early possession, and before the game had a chance to settle into any kind of routine, a lead pass found Inzaghi, who easily beat his man and kicked the ball into the far corner of our net, right underneath our gaze. He ran wildly towards his teammates, in that typical Inzaghi way of celebrating every goal he scores as if he just won the World Cup with it, all the while looking like he is being electrocuted.

“I’m gonna bust that punk’s head!” someone yelled out behind me. Unbelievable. The game hadn’t even really started and we were already down. Against Milan. Ugh.

The immediate reaction of the home crowd was to incite and encourage Napoli. The courage and bravado displayed in the first two games under Mazzarri were not forgotten. We knew what this team was suddenly capable of, early goal or not.

Barely time to digest the reality of the early setback when Milan played a ball quickly forward. Pato pounced on it, possibly in an offside position it seemed to us (still not sure if he was or not but think it was legit). He raced ahead 1-vs.-1 with De Sanctis. It was only ever gonna end one way. Pato rifled a shot past our keeper and it was 2-0 after five minutes.

Un. Believable.

The despair was such that I can’t even begin to describe my mood or that of most people in the stadium. Fabio kept yelling out “you can’t give away two free goals like that!” over and over. And a cross by Ronaldinho that forced De Sanctis out did little to cheer us up – Inzaghi had been poised to pounce on that chance and it could have been 3-0 very early. I thought back to Genoa’s home defeat to Inter 5-0 from last week…

Napoli reacted. Hamsik took a couple of shots. Quagliarella gave it a desperate go but to no avail. Even Pazienza gave it a try. Nothing. Several minutes after Milan’s second goal, I realized we were still nowhere near Borghetti time. And the game appeared lost already…

“The guys are tired. These are the same players who won in Florence three days ago!” Very true. We have no bench. Milan can throw out the fresh Inzaghis and Ambrosinis. We can’t. We have Pazienza, and then we have him again. If Lavezzi is exhausted from running Florence defenders ragged, he is rewarded with a chance to do it all over again against Milan. And that’s that.

Borghetti time came and went uneventfully. Fabio was providing no updates from the other games, even though he was still wearing the familiar earphones. This was not a good sign. Fabio was devastated like I had never seen him.

Before the game, Armando had been jubilant. “Andrew is still undefeated! So is Francesca!” implying that we couldn’t possibly lose since they were present.

“Armando, we’re all undefeated (at home) so far…”

“No, we, hehe…” while Fabio was talking about this season’s home games in particular, Armando was referring to lifetime results to date. I recalled this conversation and thought about the impact of Napoli losing a game with Drew present. How would the others take this? It stood against everything they believed in. It would be like someone scientifically proving to you that your god of choice did not in fact exist.

Napoli continued to waste chance after chance, while Milan sat back and protected their lead. Quagliarella in particular was pathetic, and was thus singled out for criticism by everyone. “The guy is a has-been” was just about the nicest thing I heard anyone say.

“20 million Euros. Wasted. On ********ing Quagliarella.” That was my contribution (in English) to Drew. But I kept believing he would score. Drew had said so.

I was gutted. I felt especially bad for Drew for some reason. Still new at this, I wanted him to experience more “greatness” before such pathetic displays.

At halftime we had the casatiello. Which made me wonder about another, even more sacred belief: what would happen if we lost at home with the frittata and casatiello present??? It boggled the mind.

Curious as to how my fantasy team was doing, since my real life team was hopeless, Fabio informed me of Juve’s comfortable lead over Sampdoria and a couple of other results. He poured over numerous pages of notes, statistics and games keeping track of whatever bets he had placed.

There was a curious announcement made at halftime: the use of “lasers” was prohibited and could provoke a fine against the club. Apparently someone in the audience was using a laser pointer to distract Dida?

The second half started where the first left off: Napoli pressing forward desperately, but with no finishing. Maggio squandered an easy early chance off a rebound from Dida, who was having a career night, saving everything on Earth that came his way. You know those NFL fantasy videos made by Reebok, where you see NFL stars doing crazy catches under impossible conditions? Yeah, that was Dida in real life.

A number of chances followed, but nothing. Fabio kept complaining about giving away two early goals. Against Milan. Not a team like Bologna. No one else was saying a whole lot of anything, except frustrated exclamations for every shot we fired off target or that Dida saved against all expectations. WTF.

De Sanctis was tested about 15 minutes into the second half, but came up with a good save (I was anything but certain that he would pull it off by that point). Inzaghi even found the time to score while offsides, though he did appear to be electrocuted for a brief moment until he realized the goal didn’t count.

More Inzaghi as he was opened up on the left. De Sanctis came out, Inzaghi drifted around him but fired above the bar. “See, that’s cos De Sanctis closed him off well and forced him to take a bad shot.” Armando’s “glass half full” mentality never ceases to amaze me.

Oh, and I should mention the ref’s numerous questionable calls. A number of non-calls on plays that appeared to be blatant fouls against us, not sanctioning Dida for taking an eternity every time he took a goal kick, etc. But it gets tiring complaining about the ref each time, no matter how justified certain complaints may be.

Lavezzi shot a free kick right at Dida. On the other end, a Milan free kick (which to us appeared to be a penalty kick foul though the ref didn’t call it, further confirming in our minds his poor judgement though replays later showed he had made the right call) ended with the evergreen Seedorf shooting it over the bar.

The mood in the stadium soured more and more as defeat appeared to be more and more inevitable. Datolo, Cigarini and Denis came on, but many fans missed it as they had already left out of frustration. To be honest, I wanted to leave too, tired and frustrated as I was, but I didn’t have a way to get home without someone driving me. And leaving early is simply not in my DNA, no matter what. Drew asked me how far Armando’s house was. “Too far too walk…by the time we get there on foot we would have gotten there in the car after the game anyway!” The stream of people leaving grew stronger and stronger. It was actually depressing to see. I checked the time on my cell phone. Roughly seven minutes left in regulation, plus injury time. I couldn’t wait for it to end. I wanted to go home and put and end to this pain.

The game dragged on. There was at least one case of what appeared to be a Napoli player fouled in the Milan box (Lavezzi once), but nothing. Of course not.

Oh, the ref did incredibly eject a Milan player for double yellows. Abate, the Neapolitan former Napoli player, who took his sweet time walking off, much to the anger of everyone present. The hatred and contempt I felt for him at that moment was unreal. And ironically, one of the free papers they hand out outside the San Paolo had run a short piece talking about how it always seems that it’s in fact southern Italian players who are particularly “hostile” towards Napoli, citing as examples Gattuso’s deplorable demeaner in last seasons game at San Siro, and Sculli, who seems to take particular joy at diving at our expense or otherwise behaving in an especially confrontational manner whenever he plays against us. The article could have gone on for a while but mercifully didn’t.

“If Maggio had put that early chance in at the start of the second half it would have been a very different game…”

My morale had hit rock bottom. I felt very unenergetic before the game. I was downright gutted towards the end of it.

Corner kick for us. I felt almost bad for our players, who continued to try so hard but appeared to be a team of little engines that couldn’t. It made everything appear to be that much more heartbreaking. Datolo took the corner. The cross was headed away by a Milan defender. The ball came down to Cigarini, who from outside the box suddenly struck a ballistic missile of a shot which defied Dida and almost punched a whole at the back of the net, three seconds short of the 90 minute mark!

A lifeline! We got up from our seats screaming, but quickly refocused our attention on the game. There was no time to celebrate. It was time to really get to work. The sound coming from the crowd was suddenly raised by a large number of decibels!

The goal didn’t necessarily revitalize a Napoli that had never quit in the first place, but it did give our players more confidence and especially conviction. We could do this.

A couple of minutes went by, with Napoli constantly pressing. There wasn’t a regular pulse or level of blood pressure in the stadium. Every step, every bounce of the ball was followed with such intense attention that lasers weren’t necessary: sheer willpower was gonna see us through. We were all certain of it.

Napoli scrambled forward. Numerous players from both sides filled the Milan penalty area. Maggio on the right, struggling to keep possession. He turns to fire a blind cross. Denis leaps in the air and heads the ball majestically. I follow it with my gaze until I see it make contact with the net, behind Dida.

~~~

This is one of those rare moments in life where you see the impact of a massive event unfold before you a couple of seconds before it actually does so. Picture you’re standing there crossing a street or something, only to turn around and see a big 18 wheeler truck moving towards you at very high speed only 10 feet away. In that moment, you aren’t scared. But you do realize that you are about to die and think “wow, so this is how I died,” even though you haven’t actually died yet. At that moment, you are emotionally removed from your surroundings and abandon yourself to what lies immediately before you in 3, 2, 1…

The following minute or two or whatever are a big blur to me now. It was a blur to me then. Everyone present completely lost all semblance of retention and self control. Everyone screamed uncontrollably. If Inzaghi is electrocuted, we were all possessed. I stood there wanting to explode and couldn’t figure out where to project myself. Who should I jump on first? Who knows. Who cares. In those moments of utter madness, my body kicked and jumped without any guidance from me. The only things I recall at all with any clarity are: the sight of Attilio; I don’t know what happened to his jacket, and whatever sweater he had been wearing he was now swinging wildly with his right hand, now wearing only a white undershirt as he too hopped around like mad. Anna below me looked up at me and exclaimed “we won!!! We won!!!!” but the game wasn’t over yet, so I wondered what she was talking about though it was obvious. “With this tie, we won!!!!!” After probably systematically doing this to everyone within reach of him, Fabio turned to me, grabbed me tightly with both hands and kept screaming out “GOOOL!!!! GOOOOL!! GOOOOL!!!” in my face, with a look of complete confusion on his own face. After all, I was very confused myself as to how I was supposed to celebrate a goal like this.

While all this was happening, I never truly lost sight of what was going on with our players. You know how when you see a flock of small birds, or a school of fish, how the group travels as a single whole with this amorphous shape? How all the birds more or less travel in the same direction, turn kinda at the same time, and so on? That’s what I saw on the field: a flock of birds or school of fish the color of the Napoli shirt, sweeping its way from the Milan end of the field, around the one corner kick flag at the opposite end of us, and moving its way to the foot of the Curva B. The people in the Curva B didn’t exactly sit still either, a number of them coming down to the very bottom of the sector. From what I understand now, even some of the photographers present on the sidelines joined in on the madness.

A token pic I wanted to take to mark “the goal,” though no pics could do the moment justice

As things settled back (as much as they realistically could), Attilio climbed from his seat, past me over to Drew to embrace him, still wearing only the white undershirt. I will confess I felt a slight degree jealousy at that moment at the attention Drew is getting, but it’s really irrelevant. I had my time in the limelight, and it’s coming to a close. If anything, not being singled out is a good thing for me, as it shows that in everyone’s eyes I am one of them just as much as they themselves are…

Denis’ goal was made particularly special because of the troubles he has had over the past season and a half he has been with us. It almost seemed like a fairy tale ending to the game, with the Cinderella of the player coming through at the 11th hour. And with this goal, I unleashed all my frustrations/contempt/”hatred”/anger at Milan. At Berlusconi, everybody. Nothing in red and black was spared. I commenced a passionate tirade of insults directed at the Milan players. Frustrated even more by being stuck up in the stands when the adrenaline made me want to run down to the field and punch one of them in the face just because, the tirade only became more intense, featuring every insult and obscene gesture I could possibly conceive of until I finally ran out…sitting there in silence for a few seconds but not done, I yelled out the only other insult I could think of that I hadn’t used yet with every ounce of contempt my body would allow me to channel: “pedofili!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What a classic! “Pedophiles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” So desperate to find yet another insult to use, I resorted to that one…and it was meant as a generic insult, since in most people’s minds being a pedophile is not a positive thing. But it wasn’t until Thursday morning that the coincidence of it struck me. “Pedophiles…Berlusconi…hanging out with minors…what an instant classic!!!!” I couldn’t have thought of it myself if I had meant to do so!

We believed in the win. There was still some time left, but not much. But it could be enough. Napoli pressed forward again. The crowd continued to incite. But it wasn’t to be. The ref blew the final whistle and that was that. But I don’t think there was anyone in the stadium complaining at that moment. In our eyes, we had already “won” the game. And when you look at it, it is no exaggeration to say that the crowd made all the difference. The willpower of 65,000 people can work miracles. People have the power indeed.

Yet another parenthesis – to give you some perspective as to why slapping teams like Milan in the face is so much more meaningful to us…the next day, on Fabio’s Facebook page, one of his friends, a girl apparently from Milan and a Milan fan, launched a diatribe against Napoli fans (invariably a general attack against the people of Naples as a whole), citing the “laser” incident as evidence as to how “uncivilized” and “barbaric” we are. She also cited as evidence a Neapolitan guy who once at San Siro apparently gave her a hard time about her seat or something. Tired of dealing with this type of crap, especially after living it in person for the past three years, I was happy to respond to this “friend” of Fabio’s what I thought about her attitude, describing how a few years back Donatella and some others traveled to Milan to see the Napoli basketball team play against the home side, and how the very “civilized” Milan fans, in very “civilized” fashion proceeded to slash the four tires of the vehicle Donatella and friends had arrived in simply because it had a Naples province license plate on it. So yeah, while we realize that the average Milan player may have nothing to do with things like that, since he may or may not even be Italian, they unfortunately for them come to represent in our minds things far removed from soccer. So the sight of dejected Milan players after being scored on twice in injury time to lose the win is particularly sweet for us. Indeed, Napoli-Livorno or -Bologna is no match for Napoli-Milan…

Immediately after the final whistle, we all stood up in unison with one final cheer. I was completely dazed. The crowd was going nuts, and an ecstatic Fabio next to me kept telling me to tell Andrew that “this is the heart of Naples! Tell him! This is the heart of Naples!” However, at that moment, I couldn’t do much of anything except stand there. The (boxing) match was over. I had won. But was barely capable of seeing straight or respond to what was going on around me. “Tell him! This is the heart of Naples!” I finally managed to pass the words on to Drew, carried by Fabio’s enthusiasm if nothing else.

Some started mocking the fans who had left early. At that moment, I was even more glad I hadn’t driven myself to the stadium – not that I would have left early anyway, but still! “I’m so glad we didn’t walk back to Armando’s!” contributed Drew, as if he had read my mind.

Cigarini and Denis were interviewed by Sky as everyone else was leaving the pitch. As Denis slowly walked back to the locker rooms, the numerous fans still present in the stands began chanting “De-nis! De-nis! De-nis!” Denis acknowledged the ovation, and everything felt like it was right in the world.

Eduardo joined up with us. “Armando, I had to move back to my seat, row 18 seat 7, and we scored twice! I’m never sitting in any other seat again!” Amazed, I suddenly developed an all-new respect for Eduardo’s (sometimes annoying) presence among us, and will never again try to get him to just sit wherever…

There was something special in the air that night. Somehow, the experience of tying the game like this – against Milan – truly did feel like a historic, monumental win. As I walked out of the stadium, I witnessed a reunion of one group of fans who knew each other but apparently sit in separate sectors. This one woman, who must have been in her 40′s, told this kid who could have been her son about the goal Di Canio scored against Milan in the 89th minute of a game in the spring of 1994, drawing a parallel to Denis’ goal. A game that Napoli won 1-0 against Capello’s Milan thanks to that goal. A goal I remember very well. At that moment, I was amazed that Denis’ goal only a few minutes prior had already gone down in our history as being that monumental. But if the shoe fits…

“This tie is like a win!” Anna kept boasting. And no one disagreed with her. We jubilantly walked back to the car. The insane crowd of people and motor vehicles all trying to go in opposite directions at the same time was that much more tolerable that night.

Walking with Drew, I began to look back at my time at the San Paolo to draw some conclusions: “Against Milan, I’ve earned 4 points (would have been 5 had I gone to last season’s game)…Juve…6 points. Inter….6 points. Roma…not sure…no points I think. Udinese, now Udinese I’ve seen 3 times…I think we got 5 points. Livorno 6 points. Lazio…1 point. Fiorentina 6 points. Siena, Siena I think only 2 points.”

“Siena are bitches!” Drew responded. Napoli had gotten 3 points against Siena in the one time he had seen that match up…(but I have to look up my track record against them to be sure of my stats).

In the car, I threw out some thoughts. “Seven points in three games under Mazzarri. If Donadoni had still been there, we would have gotten one point – a tie against Bologna, and losses to Fiorentina and Milan.”

“That’s why I hated Donadoni! Every time I saw him on the bench I thought about Milan!” was Anna’s only comment.

On the radio, a girl called the Radio Marte post-game show, ecstatically recounting how she had tried to cheer up her boyfriend early in the game: “don’t worry, these guys scored two goals in the first five minutes, but Napoli is gonna score two in the last five minutes! And we did!” I don’t know how authentic her claim was, but it didn’t matter.

Actually, if we really wanna get technical about it the first major soccer game to take place upon my return was Ireland-Italy on the day I landed. Not that I had the chance to follow that one – Armando organized a “farewell to summer” party at his house and Mena objected strenuously to any non-Napoli game being shown – and so I had to rely on an Irish friend texting me updates from Dublin to know what was going on with that one. Italy qualified (yay!), Ireland is going to the playoffs (good luck!!!!!!!), and a week later it was time for Napoli again.

The weather called for heavy rains. I texted Drew to inform him that if I was gonna need Noah’s Ark to go to the game, I wasn’t gonna go and that we would touch base Sunday morning. Sunday morning came, the weather was OK, so I texted Drew to be at my place by 1:30pm. I arranged to pick Dona up too, since she hasn’t renewed her license yet and as a result hasn’t had her new car delivered (it took me 25 minutes to renew my license in Virginia, but you can imagine that in Italy renewing a driver’s license is a major bureaucratic endeavor that can even take months to complete). 1pm came and no sign of Drew. I tried calling, but couldn’t get through. By 1:40pm, I wasn’t sure what was going on with him, so I had to press on without him…I pick Dona up and inform her that “the American” is missing in action.

“What?? What happened to him?”

No clue at the time…phone issues…but I was slightly worried. If nothing else for superstitious reasons.

In the US I got myself a couple of different caps to wear at the stadium on windier days. I wore one of the caps that day, and as a result ended up giving Dona a short lesson on NFL basics.

“The hat I’m wearing is of this team called the Detroit Lions. They haven’t won a game in three years…”

“I like them already!”

“…and coincidentally the one game they have won was in DC, on the day I arrived in DC myself. Anyway, they’re a pretty pathetic team, and we’re a little pathetic ourselves so I figured it was a good fit. Plus they have our colors.” Donatella appreciated the “we’re a little pathetic ourselves” comparison.

That led nicely into a conversation about our colors not being particularly winning ones. Napoli, the Lions, even Lazio…teams that seem to be kinda jinxed or however you want to think of it…

I continued on.

“I also bought another hat by another team called the San Diego Chargers. They kinda have our colors too, so I automatically liked the hat. But they’re not that great of a team either.”

“I see. Recharge the Chargers!” was Dona’s pearl of brilliance (in English)!

So yeah, though on this day Mazzarri was making his debut on our bench to replace the hapless Donadoni, my mood was more along the lines of that of a Lions fan…”my team sucks and there is no hope”…you get the picture. The Lions cap would be making its debut as well.

Speaking of debuts, there was a very important one that needs to be noted. Donatella gave me my birthday gifts a week early. “You’ll see why” was the only clue she gave me. I unwrapped the first gift, which was a book by Carlo Lucarelli about the mysteries surrounding the deaths of many people in the music and movie industry (I had expressed interest in reading it recently). I slowly unwrapped the second gift…which turned out to be a shiny silver lucky horn! Yet another lucky horn! But I was at first nervous, remembering that in the past new horns don’t typically work their magic very well on their debuts (Inter-Napoli on Donatella’s birthday, her industrial-sized new horn, miraculously arrived in time from Rome, didn’t work it’s magic that night). Either way, it was a welcome addition.

No particular issues entering the stadium. The stewards spent a couple of extra moments looking at my US military ID, instead of the usual nonchalant glance they usually reserve for it and my season ticket. Oh, I should mention that the wound of the seized umbrella from last season is still open (Napoli-Lecce, December 2008). I had warned Drew that should I need to bring an umbrella and should the stewards idiotically determine that it was unsafe for the general public to allow me to bring said umbrella into the stadium, I would turn around and go home. Luckily, the weather held up enough to where this issue didn’t come up…

Everyone showed up soon enough. A lot of the talk of course was centered around Mazzarri’s debut. When Uncle Carlo and his wife showed up, Fabio jokingly asked him what he thought of Mazzarri. Uncle Carlo (jokingly?) replied: “I don’t like Mazzarri!”

“Damn! Give him a chance to take a seat on the bench first!” Fabio joked along with him. I wasn’t really sure if it was all a joke or not.

Donadoni also featured heavily in conversation, as in “we’re so glad he’s gone, I told you guys he sucked, etc. etc. etc.” You get this picture, too. Time to move on.

Lavezzi was the center of some controversy over the week as his passport was apparently misplaced, causing him to miss his flight back to Italy. De Laurentiis was infuriated, it looked like Lavezzi wouldn’t play Sunday, but alas he warmed up with the starters. And luckily for me, I included him in my fantacalcio team…

It was still fairly warm the last time I went to the stadium, so this was the first time of the season that I saw the preponderance of black/dark blue coats worn at the stadium, giving the stadium the characteristically uniformly intimidating appearance…and making it impossible to spot people in the crowd as everyone is all wrapped up in the same colors.

Colors – yeah, Bologna kept up the tradition of away teams wearing atrocious 2nd kits in Naples. They chose to wore a green shirt, which Fabio despised particularly. “They want to jinx us with Avellino colors! They look like Avellino!” The memory of the lost promotion playoff against Avellino (in Serie C) a few years ago is still very fresh…

Mazzarri’s entrance was something to behold. As he came out of the tunnel and walked his way to the Napoli bench, a horde of journalists followed him, taking countless pictures. It seemed a little odd to me – Donadoni’s appearance hadn’t resulted in this much fanfare. But maybe Napoli fans were simply that anxious to see Donadoni go…

Mazzarri greeted by every journalist in Naples

The visiting Bologna ultras were allowed in at the last possible minute before kickoff. As they rushed in waving flags in their red and blue colors, Anna saw something that immediately offended her.

“Why do they have to wave an Italian flag??? What are they trying to say???”

“Anna, where do you see this Italian flag” Dona asked. I had seen it as well, but not everyone had been able to see it.

“Over there! Look! Why do they have that Italian flag???”

Why was Anna so offended? Well, those of you not as familiar with domestic Italian concerns may not be aware of the amount of discrimination reserved for Naples, Neapolitans and generally southern Italy by “the north.” This discrimination is certainly alive and kicking in the soccer world, and very often you will see sarcastic “welcome to Italy” signs erected when Napoli comes to town. As if to imply that Naples isn’t “Italy” or even “Europe”…I guess you get the picture…so I don’t know if those Bologna fans had an Italian flag because they wanted to send a “we came from Italy” type of message, or maybe it was just a more generic thing…either way, Anna reacted strongly to it while I chose to ignore it.

As the game started, the Curva A erected a strange banner that didn’t make much sense to us at first. Criticizing the increased laws designed to curb hooligan activity, they said something about “hear our anthem.” Immediately thereafter, it started to make sense as the Curva A ultras proceeded to light off countless flares and sound bombs. The rest of us showered the Curva A with jeers, fearful of the consequences of this act. “They could even ban the stadium for the next home game (against Milan, by the way)!” The ref was also targeted, as he should have stopped the game (according to regulations, which are always loosely and arbitrarily enforced in Italy…). The ref ignored the chaos, and apparently a lot of fouls against us.

The Curva A trying hard to get our stadium closed for the next home game

The ref did do a great job of noticing the non-foul which set Bologna up with a free kick early on. “It’s not a foul!” we screamed out. Fabio on the other hand saw it as a blatant foul, but he was the lone voice going against the grain. Why does Fabio always want to be the lone voice going against? Well, maybe he appreciates the philosophy of not wanting to make excuses for our downturns and looking at ourselves instead. I.e. if we get scored on it’s cos our defense sucks and we need to do something about it, not that the ref ripped us off. Fabio doesn’t like playing the victim…so if a Bologna player goes down at the edge of the box, he is inclined to think “yeah, our defenders are horrible (usually true) so it’s likely they would commit a stupid foul like that.”

Or maybe Fabio just likes being negative and going against everyone else. I dunno.

Either way, Adailton nailed a shot past De Sanctis without much effort. 1-0 Bologna.

You would think that the subject of the subject of the free kick call would soon enough be replaced by something else such as talk of how the team was doing, who was playing well, who sucked, etc. But nope, not us. Fabio pressed on. Listening to radio broadcasts on his earphones, he kept pointing out that the announcers could not agree on the call. “And these guys have seen the replay now a few times, and they still can’t decide. So you see??”

The mood was predictably damp, and not just from the drizzle. Soon an uncomfortable silence prevailed. Per usual, the silence was interrupted by Fabio, who continued to listen to the radio.

“…it wasn’t a foul.”

“No way!!!!!!!!” Donatella exclaimed, without the slightest effort and hiding or blunting the sarcasm in her voice.

There isn’t much to say about Napoli’s first half performance, except that it was a bit dismal in my opinion. Maybe there was some effort, but a very modest (i.e. crappy) Bologna came to San Paolo, got one shot on goal and was up, while we created a bit and were sloppy, only to then allow ourselves to be frustrated by one of the absolute worst teams in Serie A this year. Usually Fabio likes to praise the opponent of the day, adding that “there are no easy games in Serie A.” And he kinda started on that party line initially, but quickly switched to a different tune. “This Bologna is a nobody! We’re letting this shit team stop us at home!” Here Fabio and I engaged in a brief disagreement. He complained that for the second year in a row we were gonna lose at home to Bologna. I reminded him that last season we tied 1-1. He insisted we lost 2-1. I once again informed him it was 1-1. Nope. We lost 2-1. But see, that’s where keeping this blog up to date comes in handy because if you look back at the Napoli-Bologna entry for February 2009, you will see that we did in fact tie 1-1 but I didn’t have the energy to insist further. (I remember that game clearly as it was the first during my time as a season ticket holder that I purposely chose to miss in order to do other things, that particular weekend hanging out in Rome with American friends while Irish pub crawling and seeing the game on TV, occasionally teasing this one American girl who lived in Bologna at the time about the game.)

After the 22nd minute we had our customary Caffé Borghetti. You will recall that Donatella and Anna jointly hold onto Anna’s lucky horn in times of distress, which certainly includes when you’re losing at home to Bologna. Anna, however, needed both hands to pour the Borghetti. Dona ordered Fabio to join her in holding the horn, as the ritual required two people. Fabio at first resisted, but gave in to Donatella’s pressure soon enough though commenting on his skepticism: “well you know, these new rituals…” Armando chuckled a bit to Fabio’s left. I turned and looked at Armando and started laughing out loud at Fabio’s comment. Seeing me laugh, Armando immediately went from chuckling to laughing out loud hysterically.

~~~

Part of the reason why I found Fabio’s comment hilarious was due to an incident that occurred during Napoli-Siena, recounted to me via text message by Donatella as I was at the airport boarding my flight to the US. Napoli had been awarded a penalty kick. Hamsik apparently took the shot and missed it, after which a panicked and desperate Fabio called out for Anna’s horn, and as he placed his fingers on it Hamsik immediately scored on the rebound. A remarkable incident on its own almost worthy of a blog entry by itself but I failed in convincing Andrew and/or Donatella that they needed to write up the entry in my absence. And I couldn’t understand why just a couple of weeks later Fabio was uninterested in holding the horn, he would refer to it as a “new ritual” considering that there was in fact a precedent and a very positive one at that.

Regardless, it was a much needed moment of comic relief.

~~~

Andrew the Living Good Luck Charm wasn’t there to bring us just that, luck, a fact which was not lost on anyone. “Andrew is missing” Donatella in particular kept pointing out. “Call him!”

“I did…he doesn’t answer.”

“Text him!”

“…I did…no answer…”

“Text him again!” As if somehow simply getting a hold of him would make a difference.

Halftime. Blah. Nothing to report that I can recall.

~~~

Which leads me into a short side note. There are countless things that happen on game days. Countless quotes, things I may notice, etc. But it is impossible for me to reproduce everything here. Numerous times I will say to myself “OK, that’s going in the blog.” But whether or not it makes it into the blog is another story.

If time were no object, and if I didn’t have a day job keeping me very tied down, I could probably knock these blog entries out the night of the game, or at worst the next day. A lot more anecdotes would find their way onto these pages for sure. But unfortunately, my memory is what it is. Furthermore, this week in particular I chose to hold off on posting this blog entry for a while out of respect for a certain person. But that is something that I prefer to keep private.

What am I trying to say? It pains me to look back at these entries knowing that they only capture a portion of everything that my senses perceive around me. On one occasion I tried jotting everything down that came to mind (Napoli-Atalanta from April 2008), but it distracted me excessively from the game itself. And the whole point of going to the game is to…follow the game…

So yeah. I feel the need to apologize to all of you for being unable to make these entries far more colorful or otherwise interesting…

~~~

Napoli appeared a bit more determined in the second half, but the results were the same. Sloppy finishing ensured that the game continued to be won by Bologna…

I did manage to get a hold of Drew eventually. Apparently it had rained heavily in Aversa, where he lives, and so he took that to mean that I would not be attending the game. I noted to him that the rain hadn’t been that bad at all down in Naples…Armando jokingly told me to make sure that Drew understood that “we” were season ticket holder rain or shine, and that it was a very real commitment that needed to be observed at all costs.

~~~

Which actually leads me onto another interesting side note for me. The day before the game, I was hanging out with some friends (not stadium regulars these days, though one of the girls has a history of being in the Curva B). My friend Massimiliano commented that he had thought about getting a season ticket at whatever point, but had refrained because in the end it is something that really binds you. Once you have it, you really feel that you have to attend all the games otherwise it’s a waste. So you are stuck not really being able to plan things a lot of times because there is the token Napoli-whoever game tying you down. Sure, you can blow it off but then you might feel bad cos then you paid a lot of money (480 Euros this year, and I’m too depressed about the exchange rate to think about how many US Dollars that is) only to let it go to waste. I can fully empathize with what Massimiliano was trying to say. Last season’s Napoli-Bologna game is where I chose to proclaim my independence from Napoli and pursue other matters. If that meant hanging out with friends and missing a game, so be it. And I have missed other games since then with no regrets. But there are still times when I wish I didn’t have this constant commitment to observe. It is a lot of fun and gives you stories to tell (or blogs to write), but it is also nice having a certain independence…

~~~

I’ll fast forward to roughly the middle of the second half. Bologna still up, with the Mazzarri cure still not showing concrete results. Until there was a scramble in the Bologna penalty area. Zalayeta (remember him? He wears a Bologna shirt now…and was largely ignored by his former home crowd) lost the ball, it ended up to Quagliarella who needed a couple of touches to put it in the back of the net. It was almost surreal. But I for one didn’t get crazy with the celebrations. The goal was more of a relief. A setting things right, as they should be. I didn’t feel like joyfully celebrating the fact that we were tied with Bologna 1-1 at home in the 72nd minute. It was more of a “thank God” reaction. I felt relief, but not joy.

Donatella was particularly joyful, on the other hand! She triumphantly held her two fists joined at the pinky fingers. At first I didn’t understand. Then I realized she was holding her industrial-sized-lucky-horn-received-miraculously-on-the-day-of-Inter-Napoli with both hands. She had begun doing so out of desperation only moments before Quagliarella’s goal. The position of the hands was curious. It almost looked like she could have been holding a double-bladed sword with which to vanquish the opponent.

Well, in essence it’s what she had just done. And then people have the courage to say that these superstitious beliefs are just that. “Superstition.” Huh.

Donatella’s two-handed horn holding

Lavezzi had had a few godd chances but hadn’t scored. This had some repercussions on my fantacalcio game as Lavezzi featured in my lineup. Another important repercussion occurred a few minutes after we tied it up. Di Vaio, featured on my fantacalcio opponent’s lineup that week, was brilliantly set up to go 1-on-1 with De Sanctis. Shit. There is no way he isn’t gonna score this one. And we’re gonna be down 2-1 in about 2 seconds. But incredibly, De Sanctis made a fantastic save on Di Vaio’s attempt, saving my fantacalcio fate and more importantly Napoli’s. (I eventually lost my game anyway.)

Napoli pressed on. Some of Mazzarri’s decisions were question, such as when he took off an injured defender and replaced him with…Pia’. I believe the game was 1-1 at that point. But there wasn’t much criticism directed at Mazzarri that night.

As the officials announced the amount of injury time (4 minutes), kept on the attack. Lavezzi worked some magic on the wing and kicked a ball to the center of the Bologna box. There was a shot or deflection – I couldn’t tell – but the ball had ended up once again in the back of the Bologna goal!!!! Maggio was the player to deflect it in, as it would turn out. Everyone around me went nuts. I once again chose to remain very sober. Though it wasn’t necessarily a conscious choice. It was more of a lack of energy. I didn’t have it in me to get crazy and be overjoyed at the goal. Once again I primarily felt relief.

Maggio celebrated by his teammates

All of a sudden, the 4 minutes of injury time went from being a blessing to a curse. They couldn’t pass soon enough. But pass they did. Napoli won 2-1 and Mazzarri’s first 3 points were in the books. And my new personal lucky horn had worked its magic already. As had the Detroit Lions cap.

Dona and I holding up our lucky horns after the game

~~~

Mena had invited Donatella and I to dinner at their place after the game, but we were apparently to not say anything to Armando as it was a surprise. This led to an awkward farewell as Dona and I had arrived at the stadium separately in my car, while Armando and the others had come in Armando’s Fiat Multipla (the other car isn’t drivable these days due current legislation limiting the circulation of vehicles not meeting certain emission requirements). Not 10 minutes later Donatella and I were outside Armando’s house when Armando drove by in the Multipla. “Quick, hide!” Dona bent over to hide herself from view, encouraging me to do the same.

“I think they saw us already…” but I pathetically tired to hide for a moment as well. Next thing you know Armando’s Multipla was pulled up next to my parked car. “Are you guys staying for dinner?”

“Uhhhh……”

“Mena called me. I just need to pick something up real quick!” Donatella saved the day with at one. Armando drove off to drop Anna off at home, and Dona and I went inside where we would all end up having a fabulous dinner together.

Please forgive me if I choose to stop here.

Speaking of ill, Andrew aka “the new American signing” couldn’t make it. He seemed fine the day before, even going as far as inquiring about the possibility of another (American) friend of ours attending the game with us. But the next morning I received a call from this voice from beyond – turns out it was Drew, seriously ill with a bout of the flu, induced by the Navy’s mandatory flu vaccinations he had been exposed to a couple of days prior. (Note to self, I’m not getting one.)

Drew’s absence meant his encounter with Superstitious Donatella would be postponed yet again. You guys know she takes superstitious things pretty seriously, and once I told her about the good luck Drew brought against Livorno (not to mention for his club Real Salt Lake against DC United during the three seasons he was a DCU season ticket holder), Superstitious Donatella took an instant liking to the guy. “Noooooo what the heck, we’re missing our good luck charm!” Donatella proclaimed via text message when I informed her. “Tell her I’ll be there in spirit and watching on TV!” was Drew’s solemn response.

On a personal note, I was very pumped for this game. From now on Serie A games are that much more meaningful to me as prior to this game I participated in a fantacalcio (fantasy Serie A) auction with some friends. I ended up with Lavezzi somehow (though his fantasy value remains to be seen this year…). And in case you’re interested in how the other Napoli players faired, Hamsik went for a bloody fortune as expected, Gargano was sold for fairly cheap, Maggio found his way to a team, Quagliarella went for a good amount, and the list of drafted players gets short from there. Cigarini, Contini, De Sanctis, but not many more of our boys got picked up. And this from a group of largely Napoli fans. Not a good sign, even with the holy blood melting…

So yeah, I was saying. Excited about this game. We’ve done well against Udinese since returning to Serie A, Lavezzi in particular scores prolifically against the Friulian side (fantacalcio points yeahhhhh!), and if nothing else these are two of the three worst defenses in Serie A thus far, so the goals should abound. (Oh, I should mention I have a small army of Udinese players in my fantacalcio team…Floro Flores, who I decided to field against my Napoli just for kicks if nothing else, but I was sober enough to leave Sammarco, Zapata, and Sanchez on my fantasy bench).

My excitement was such that I chose to debut my new 2009/10 Napoli jersey for this game, purchased only a couple of weeks prior. Got the silver/gray third shirt, the one worn against West Ham back in August for that friendly. It brought luck then (1-0 Napoli win with Quagliarella) so I felt comfortable wearing it for this game…

I meet Donatella at her place at the appointed time (she had asked me for a ride), and off we go. Dona still didn’t have her season ticket – it was still with Armando – so we weren’t sure whether to head to Armando’s first to pick it up or meet him outside the San Paolo before going in. Dona calls him en route, and he directs us to head to the stadium. “Take your time” was his guidance… We arrive, doing the usual route, including the now obligatory opposite way on the 70-80 yards of one way traffic, and go to park, except there were a number of cars parked in “our” spot. Hmmm. I managed to find room in between two other cars, but as I got out of my car and noticed the presence of the lady’s dogs, their lack of a reaction to us left me concerned. As you’ll see in earlier posts, it’s a superstitious belief of ours that if the dogs don’t bark, bad juju.

Dona and I quickly arrive at our agreed to meeting point, in front of the university entrance and right outside the stadium’s first checkpoint. We get there early enough to do some quality people watching. For one thing, I noticed a good number of people wearing my same Napoli jersey – that many Napoli fans can’t be wrong! The shirt is cool….check.

We saw a couple of TV crews interviewing the occasional fan (had my moment back in 2000 and haven’t been very aggressive about getting interviewed again), including the legendary dude pictured below. I don’t know his name, nor his story. I just know that he has been at like, every Napoli game since maybe…I dunno…the beginning of time or something. Seriously. I’ve seen him on countless occasions, and even featured a pic of him on my blog (see the Napoli-Siena entry from a couple of seasons ago). He’s probably the biggest Napoli fan on the planet. If not, I can’t imagine the dude (or dudette) who is…anyway, I limited myself to taking a picture of the guy, though he ended up using his time in front of the camera to go on this distinctive and very colorful tirade, predicting great success for Napoli and ill will upon anyone who hates us. “This is something you need to be getting a movie of!” Donatella’s words were almost an order. Unfortunately, it was too late to turn on my camera and start the movie, having already missed most of the scene. Too bad cos it would have been great to share here. The guy really seemed to be in this altered state of mind, to a point where when he walked past Dona and I immediately after the interview, Dona asked/informed him “I want to stroke the horn!” (the guy had an industrial sized and strength horn hanging around his neck, and Donatella being, well, Superstitious Donatella, she wasn’t about to not rub the biggest lucky horn in southern Europe), but the guy didn’t really react and just kept on slowly walking by. Dona had to almost climb over the guys shoulder to reach the horn, while I totally didn’t even bother trying.

Shortly thereafter Anna and Armando show up, we greet Anna as neither Dona nor I had seen her in a while, Dona gets her ticket in hand, and we proceed to enter the stadium. We had somehow missed Attilio and Sergio running past us moments before.

This was Donatella’s first game at San Paolo for the season, so she did something a little unusual though sadly very necessary. She brought with her a bottle of rubbing alcohol to disinfect her seat! Anna took advantage of the opportunity to clean her seat as well…

Yes, that’s bird poop on Anna’s seat. I told you the San Paolo’s seats were nasty.

Fabio arrived, and proceeded to berate Donadoni for Sunday night’s disastrous performance at Genoa. It was a fairly colorful tirade of his own he went on, getting the attention of more and more people around us (all of whom remember Fabio’s passionately anti-Reja stance in years past) until the reached the climactic moment: “Donadoni makes me miss Reja! There! I said it!” The amount of gasping and comical disbelief that followed is something I cannot describe here…

Another thing Fabio complained about was how everyone seemed to be sitting in a random seat instead of their regular one. Armando was his first target, being guilty of leaving a whopping three empty seats between Fabio and himself (it should be 1-2…). Then some prior season ticket holders who purchased tickets just for this game showed up and tried taking up whatever empty spot they could find. And for the record, for the second game of the season the seat normally filled between myself and Fabio (Franceschiello’s old seat) went empty, so that’s where I sat. The usual question was asked: “whose seat is this??” “If the seat is empty, why couldn’t we get someone we know to get it?” No, it showed up as being taken…”

During the teams’ pre-game warm up, we noticed a couple of changes in the players that were slated to be our starters. No Maggio, rather Zuniga. Santacroce. But Datolo was still there to cover the left wing, in a role not his. Of note to when Udinese took the field to warm up, Di Natale and Quagliarella greeted each other warmly, and thus the greatest all-Neapolitan attack duo in the history of soccer was again reunited, if only for a couple of seconds. Quagliarella exchanged greetings with a few Udinese players, which wasn’t a surprise considering his very positive time in Udine (according to a recent interview, he wasn’t sure he would celebrate should he score against his old club).

Also before the game, the Napoli beach soccer team was paraded around the field, apparently having just won the Italian beach soccer championship. The announcer read off the names of the players: “so-and-so, so-and-so, so-and-so, Diego Armando Maradona, so-and-so…”

WHAT?

Oh! Diego’s son! He’s the shorter guy holding the trophy in the below picture (upon further review you can barely see the trophy…well, Diego Jr. is in this pic, take my word for it).

Soon it was time to get things going. Anna handed me a Napoli-blue lucky horn to stroke for good luck. I didn’t recall seeing it before, and wondered about the nature of randomly introducing a new “lucky” object to the mix. But then again, how are you supposed to break a lucky object in? Well, by using it…so there you go. I asked her about the historic lucky horn, the one I briefly held alone and we immediately scored during last year’s Napoli-Udinese. She took that one out too, and the rubbing continued.

The announcer said something about today being Saint Gennaro, to which I noticed Donatella reaching for the sky in animated fashion, imploring our patron saint for help (but again, soccer didn’t exist in Saint Gennaro’s days so he doesnt know how to handle such requests…). Another animated fan sitting around me was this kid I had never seen before. He vaguely looked like Denis, blondish hair and everything. He must have been maybe 8 years old. Imagine Denis as an 8-yr-old kid. Slightly overweight. That was the kid.

Napoli-Udinese was the Saturday early evening match, and as such the game that opened the fourth week of Serie A matches. Two days before this game, six Italian soldiers were killed in Afghanistan, an event which shook the nation much as the death of the 19 Carabinieri in Iraq had several years ago. A minute of silence would be observed at all the games in their honor, with the teams wearing black armbands as well. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the moment of silence, considering the difficult relationship ultras fan groups have with police and authorities in general. Often times Italian military types are accused of being neo-fascists by far-leftists, so I feared the moment of silence wouldn’t be honored appropriately. Instead, it was…everyone present remained silent, with the usual respectful applause that is associated with these moments of (virtual) silence. The only voice that stood out was Fabio’s. I was slightly irritated that he would be talking during the moment, but he was actually talking about one of the six soldiers. “He came from down the street from me. Via Gonsalvo…”

~~~

On a personal level, the event hit home more so than most casualties you hear of from Iraq or Afghanistan due to a confluence of factors. My grandmother used to live on Gonsalvo street, in the Fuorigrotta neighborhood I spent much time in as a child, very near the San Paolo stadium. Also, one of the six soldiers killed, Roberto Valente (the guy Fabio talked about above), was a friend of a friend of mine (also an Italian army sergeant). My friend’s Facebook page was inundated with words of support from fellow military friends – “our entire unit needs to be there (at the funeral)!” – while my friend kept everyone informed on the details, continuing to speak of Roberto as if he were still alive (“he just arrived in Rome…he’s coming to Naples tomorrow night where they will set him up at the Maschio Angioino castle so that everyone can stop by and pay their respect.”). Also, thinking in the bigger picture, I was especially fascinated to see Italy as a whole mourning it’s war dead. This is actually something somewhat new in Italy.

In the US, the military has virtually always been seen as something even sacred (Vietnam-era controversies aside…). In Italy the military has existed to the general indifference of the general popularion for decades, largely a product of the fact that the last time Italy was involved in a major conflict, the times were very, very, very bad for all. Like most/all European nations, Italians are tired of war, and the military was seen as just another thing that reminded society of the dark days of Fascism and the war. It wasn’t until the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan that the military was seen in a better light. Sure, war is still “bad,” and there are countless people in Italy opposed to those wars, but at the same time most people today take the time to respect the casualties of Italy’s current military operations. Seeing the enormous show of support outside the church earlier today in Fuorigrotta, including countless Italian flags strung up everywhere like during World Cups, my friend commented “I have never seen anything like this before.”

“It’s a sign that Italy is maturing as a society” I responded, explaining what I just described above. Italy is now a nation that can be proud of its military forces as they are involved in “global” conflicts affecting most of us. There seems to be this realization growing slowly in Italian society, with the end result that when a group of Italian soldiers become the latest casualties, the nation takes note and while many may oppose the conflict, few turn against the soldiers themselves.

Oh, and on a final note, as a member of the US military, I was appreciative of the fact that Italy like a number of other nations continues to contribute forces – some of whom never come home – to fight a conflict triggered by 9/11. It isn’t just the US’s fight, but no one is obligating these nations to contribute their troops, nor to keep them there as they continue to get blown up…

(And you guys are lucky I poured my heart out earlier in a piece I hope appears in some Italian papers tomorrow, so you got a very sober version of my thoughts!)

~~~

So the game. Well, it was a crappy game so there isn’t much worth getting into…

Of note, roughly 10 minutes into the game, Udinese scored off a corner kick. Di Natale, owned by one of my fantacalcio opponents this weekend, scored, only to have the linesman wrongly rule him offsides. No goal, luckily for Napoli (and for me in particular!).

To be honest, a lot of this game is just a blur to me now. Napoli played poorly, countless insults were hurled at Donadoni, and not much more happened. Gargano was largely praised, though personally I don’t see why. Sure, he puts forth a lot of effort but most of his efforts seem more destructive than anything. Dona and Fabio were especially appreciative of him, but it was perhaps during this game that I came to realize that perhaps I am an anti-Gargano…willing to give the guy another chance or whatever, but if we were to sell him for a decent price, I wouldn’t be disappointed and frankly a more “orderly” player wouldn’t hurt. At least one who doesn’t step on his midfield partner’s feet (right, Cigarini?).

Datolo received a lot of praise, which is directly proportional to the criticism leveled at Donadoni for continuing to play him in a role that isn’t his (he isn’t a player capable of covering the entire wing). At one point later in the game we assumed a defense with four at the back – with Datolo being the LB in that equation. For an offensive midfielder, that’s…unnatural to say the least.

OK, time to bash Marino and the club as a whole. If we wanted a midfielder who could play the wing – either right or left – both offensively AND defensively, we had him already. Remember Daniele Mannini? Yeah. We sold him for peanuts to Sampdoria as part of the deal to get Campagnaro, but we already had Santacroce in that role so where did that make any sense? Meanwhile, Mannini has scored three goals with his new club in as many games, while Napoli has barely scored three goals all season thus far. Bah. It’s not even worth getting frustrated about anymore.

All the rest was per usual. Borghetti after the 22nd, casatiello at halftime, though the other Anna was delinquent in bringing the frittata di maccheroni…last time she didn’t bring it also ended badly. I exchanged a few text messages with Drew, the theme of which was “dude, we ********ing suck” from my end and more detailed analysis from him, followed by more “dude, we ********ing suck” messages from me.

Oh, Hamsik missed an easy goal. I was at once disappointed for Napoli, but tried to be happy for me (my other fantacalcio opponent this week has him…). Immediately after the game, the Hamsik owner called me and said to me (in English): “Randy, Napoli ********ing sucks!”

Lavezzi was picked as Sky’s Man of the Match, which was fitting as he really turned it up a notch in the second half when Donadoni lined up a 4-3-3 formation. Though the stadium was drowned with jeers the moment the referee blew the whistle to end a 0-0 game, Lavezzi himself got some feeble “Po-cho! Po-cho!” by the few still in the stadium once he was done being interviewed by Sky.

Slowly working our way out of the stadium, Attilio began describing the previous home game to Donatella, particularly Drew’s performance. “He’s so funny!” Attilio went to great lengths to describe every hand gesture or expression Drew made to him against Livorno, much to mine and Dona’s entertainment. “Attilio really seems to adore you” I texted Drew.

We walked back to the car in the muggy Saturday evening. Dona and I decided to get takeaway pizzas for dinner, which we ended up munching on at her place. I drove home. A terrible thunderstorm hit Naples that night.

Important note: there was another debut Sunday night, and as of that night our cast of characters officially grew by one. My American friend Andrew, who recently moved to Naples and is a longtime soccer fan, got a season ticket and will be experiencing life as a Napoli fan up close and personal. A day of very positive debuts all around.

Donatella and Anna would be missing the game, both still on vacation. That is a dynamic duo that is impossible to replace…they hold the horn all game, as these pages can testify…if one is missing, that’s bad enough, but at least someone else can step in and hold the horn with the one that is there (or my personal masterpiece back in February when I held it alone for a moment and we immediately scored…). On top of that, Gigi (and his son Ivan) were also out, so important addition of Drew notwithstanding, our lineup was still incomplete. But hey, at least it was only Livorno…

~~~

On a personal level, I really needed this game. While I haven’t necessarily gone into many details on these pages (particularly since there weren’t many games during the off-season…), my future fluctuated back and forth considerably this summer. It now appears that this will in fact be my last season in Naples, with Washington, DC in my future. Considering it is where I spent the happiest years of my adult life, I am honestly looking forward to the move.

But at the same time, my story here isn’t complete. I really needed this game for a couple of reasons. First off, it really bothered me to no end how things went virtually the entire second half of last season. The games, and my relative loss of interest in it all. I had better expectations for this blog, but alas, that is how things went. After a very brief off-season, I was ready to archive all that and replace it with a fresh, new sensation. New season, some new players. And my last season here, so let’s make it count.

~~~

Drew and I arrived at Armando’s house shortly after 6pm. Roma-Juve was on, so we sat there and watched it. “Not a bad little appetizer” I commented to Drew. Incidentally, I introduced Drew to Armando, Attilio and everyone else as “our new American signing.”

Drew was very excited to be making his debut at the San Paolo, as you can expect, and I was equally excited to have someone to “coach” through the experience. For the past two seasons I have essentially been the “newbie,” or in any case the greenest of the crew. Now I could feel a little more like a “veteran.” And having someone to explain everything too added a degree of freshness to it all. Can’t remember where I read this quote recently. I believe it was in Michael Meyer’s The Last Days of Old Beijing, but the quote said something to the effect that when going over something familiar with someone who is new to it, it feels new/fresh to you as well. That is how that night felt. Not only was it the first home game of the season, but it kinda felt like a new experience in a lot of ways…

Jimmy and his daughter Francesca met us at Armando’s before we left in order to pick up their season tickets. I introduced the new American signing to them, and before long Jimmy was complaining about the fact that Francesca’s ticket was issued in the name of…”Francesco.” “These people had a photocopy of her documents and everything! How could they make a mistake like that??”

As we drove towards the stadium in Armando’s Fiat Punto, I pointed out the police helicopter to Drew. “It’s flying over the stadium, just over there.” I hadn’t been this excited about going to San Paolo in a while!

We park in the usual spot, which ended up being directly underneath the police helo. A few predictable jokes about the police looking for me/you/him, and we were off. Not having eaten much that day, Drew and I stopped to get a pizzetta, with Sergio and Attilio quickly following suit.

As I said earlier, it was August and not many people were around, so the walk to the stadium hardly made it seem like a gameday. We crossed the street with no effort, Armando made a joke about the times last year he had to cross that (normally busier) street with crutches after his leg surgery, and before long we reached the first security checkpoint. “Make sure you get one of the papers they hand out” I advised Drew. “You’ll need it to cover the seat!” The San Paolo’s pink seats really are…not so pink.

We pass the various security checkpoints, collect what we thought was a free poster being handed out (turns out it was just yet another freebie newspaper thingie), and then the field came within view. I thought about whether or not to say something to Andrew about it, but chose to just walk on. Though I did wonder what must have been going through his head at that exact moment, seeing the San Paolo’s green pitch (partially) lit up at night, with the two curve already packed with the ultras.

Armando, Attilio, Sergio, Drew and I were the first to arrive from our crew, along with Jimmy and Francesca. We had a little over an hour before kick off, which was at the unusual hour of 845pm. Serie A’s times were altered even further this season, with the night games now starting at 845pm as opposed to 830pm, and with some games kicking off around noon in order to cater to the Asian market, which Serie A is trying to tap into this year (hence the Lazio-Inter Italian Supercup game played in Beijing’s “Bird Nest” stadium, which last year hosted Olympic events). As the members of our crew arrived, I continued to introduce Drew as the “new American signing,” much to my own amusement.

Anna was out, so that meant to frittata di maccheroni. Drew would have to wait to experience this ritual. However, Anna E. showed up, and much as I had suspected, she faithfully produced the magical casatiello! “Are Carlo and Anna E. coming?” I had asked Armando earlier in the day. Partially out of concern for the superstitious ritual of the casatiello. Partially out of concerns for how I would satisfy my hunger that night…

There were plenty of the usual greetings exchanged between people who normally only see each other at the stadium, and thus haven’t seen each other all summer. “Buon campionato! Happy season!” I saw Mina, the lady who works on the NATO base, and her elderly mother. They apparently got different seats this year, a little closer to our area. At one point I also heard my name being screamed out. “RANDYYYY!!!” I instinctively turn my head to see who it was. It was Paolo, my aunt’s friend. We wave at each other, but were too far to exchange any words.

Though the city seemed dead earlier, the stadium started filling up to a good level of capacity. Of note, the seat I ended up occupying last season is now filled by someone else. It isn’t the seat listed on my ticket – you may recall I more often that not slid one seat over to the right to make room for Freddy, Franceschiello’s son. Apparently Franceschiello did not renew this season, which makes me wonder what happened to the seat between mine and Fabio’s. Sunday night Drew ended up occupying my seat, row 19 seat 11, while I slid to the left, with Fabio to my immediate left.

Drew asked me about the pregame ritual. “Well, Donatella and Anna aren’t here. Otherwise they normally hold the lucky horn…we don’t do much before the game…then after the 22nd minute we have Caffe’ Borghetti…”

“No, I mean so the teams comes out, and they play the national anthem and stuff?”

“OH!” Apparently Drew was thinking about “official” events, while I was thinking in terms of our superstitious observances.

A very unusual sight last season: Napoli conducting a very professional warm up before the game!

Enough preambles. Let’s fast forward to game time.

Let’s roll!

The game got off to an intense start. Barely five minutes in, and Quagliarella had a shot that would have probably won any “Goal of the Season” awards had it gone in. He tried a shot from about 50 meters – well beyond the range any NFL kicker would attempt on a field goal – and incredibly hit the crossbar, with his shot rebounding off the goal line and back into play! We all sat there in disbelief. More like shock, actually. “That ball went in! There’s no way it didn’t go in!!!” Wishful thinking at its greatest. In my mind, that shot, so reminiscent of the 1966 England-West Germany World Cup final, had to have crossed the goal line. In my mind, there was all kinds of green between the ball and the goal line when it bounced down off the crossbar.

[ame="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DE28iu9uAJY"]YouTube – NAPOLI-LIVORNO 3-1 HIGHLIGHTS AMPIA SINTESI HQ 2* G, 30/08/09[/ame]
Check out Quagliarella’s brilliant strike 40 seconds into this clip

Stirred by the chance, the game took a new twist. Livorno had played rather boldy early on, actually getting a decent amount of possession. Napoli then took charge, and a couple of minutes later Campagnaro received the ball from the left. He charged forward and delivered a shot. It deflected off Quagliarella on its way to goal. The Livorno keeper punched it away – but straight back at Quagliarella, who wasted no time giving it another go. This time his shot, from a much closer range than his earlier intercontinental ballistic effort, was on target. The Livorno keeper could only watch as the ball was volleyed into the top right corner of the net.
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Quagliarella tore off his jersey and ran under the Curva A, pumping his fists into the air. His first goal at San Paolo, for his hometown, childhood club. I stood there with everyone else, uncertain for a moment what to do. Should I turn to Drew first? Or with the historic crew to my left, beginning with Fabio? I think I ended up kinda grabbing both at the same time while turning towards Drew. Drew’s first Napoli goal at San Paolo. Our first home goal of the season. Game on!

Quagliarella of course wasn’t the only new signing for us this summer. The other newbies were doing well themselves. Campagnaro looked solid at the back and confident coming forward. Cigarini was a little general in midfield. Always open, never wasting a ball. The playmaker we always needed, and well worth benching Blasi over. And De Sanctis had also inspired more confidence in us in goal. Maggio had recovered early from his injury, and was already in fine form. He had been gone so long he felt like a new player.

It was fun sitting right next to Fabio, exchanging comments throughout. That night he seemed to be having a difficult time identifying our players on the field. Granted, it was only the first home game, so maybe he just needs time to get in full form…! I on the other hand didn’t miss a beat and had an instant-replay accurate vision of what was going on. “Who was that who passed the ball to Quagliarella???”

“Campagnaro.”

“Wow, who pulled that off?? Lavezzi??

“Hamsik.”

Or, “who is it that got hurt?? Maggio??”

“Gargano.”

But if I kept Fabio informed about what was happening at San Paolo, he had his customary earphones on listening to the results from the other games. “Guys, Mannini just scored for Sampdoria!” Mannini. We lost him in the deal for Campagnaro. Ironically, he was probably the one best fitted to operate on the left of our midfield, but we let him go. But at least he’s playing, after the ridiculous year-long suspension against him was overturned…

And while we’re talking about former Napoli players, Calaio’ scored not once but twice for Siena at Cagliari, thus equaling the total goals he scored for us in a full season two years ago in just a few minutes. “Incredible, Calaio’ scored again!” Fabio yelled out at whatever point of those 90 minutes.

After the 22nd minute, it was time to have our first shot of Borghetti. Armando had to sneak it in this time due to Anna’s absence, while I contributed my part by sneaking in the plastic cups. Armando poured the shots out, and also replaced Anna in reminding us “guys, hold onto your cups for later!”

Napoli continued to play well in the first half, which delighted me further as Drew was experiencing a very positive Napoli first impression. Later in the first half, Hamsik, whom Fabio had expressed skepticism about throughout the game to that point, took the ball in midfield. At first it looked like he was going to end up nowhere, the lone blue shirt surrounded by Livorno burgundy. Suddenly, he turned on the turbo charge and rocketed past a couple of Livorno players, finding himself alone in front of the Livorno goal. A clever shot with the outside of his foot, and the keeper was beaten. 2-0!!!!!!!!!!! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!! The usual pandemonium, Annalisa, who was sitting in front of us alongside her father, broke out the Slovakia flag (I was waiting for it) and simply held it proudly for all to see. There was a brief, scary moment however, as Fabio, apparently being pushed around by our friends behind us in response for his earlier criticism’s of Hamsik, was pushed forward enough to bump into Annalisa, who immediately lost her balance and stumbled forward. Luckily she was not hurt, and the celebratory mood of the goal swept aside any further concern any of us may have had, Annalisa included.

“It was the set up I was criticizing, not Hamsik the player!” Fabio defended himself from accusations he was unappreciative of the guy who had just scored a very nice goal to put us 2-0 up. He might be on to something, as Hamsik remains that enigmatic player who doesn’t quite fit in anywhere, except as one of the 11 bodies starting, leaving the coach unable to play only four midfielders, but by playing five midfielders he can only play three defenders, etc….

The proud Slovak flag…

We reached the half 2-0 up. I had been texting Donatella updates throughout, including Quagliarella’s “phantom goal,” which I was still convinced had gone in. We kept harrassing Fabio to see if he had heard any word from any radio announcer who may have seen the replay. No confirmation came one way or another.

At halftime we enjoyed our slices of casatiello, another Borghetti, and Drew and I continued to comment on the hot girl sitting a couple of rows ahead of us, not to mention talking shit about the loser boyfriend she was with (truthfully the dude was probably a perfectly fine guy and all, but by virtue of being with that girl, Drew and I had little desire to feel any sympathy for him and on the contrary very much enjoyed openly smack talking – in English – with no one around us understanding anything).

The second half started with no changes for us. However, the flow of the game was very different. Drew showed his lack of experience as a Napoli fan by making a claim to Attilio. He held up for fingers and said “quattro!” Attilio very much appreciated Drew’s prediction of Napoli scoring four goals, but…

…Napoli seemed a bit complacent, and we were punished early. It took about two minutes for Lucarelli to pull one back for Livorno. A shot bounced off the bar in the process of disorienting De Sanctis, and Lucarelli headed the rebound in virtually undisturbed with our keeper a virtual spectator. My text to Donatella said it all: “2-1. Cazzo.”

Simply put, Napoli was crap in the second half. None of the verve of the first half was there. Instead, we were confused, with Livorno galvanized by the goal and desperately seeking the equalizer. Looking back, a certain degree of the blame can be placed on Cigarini’s decline. The guy is a true playmaker, and as such his impact on the team is both good and bad. When he is clicking on all cylinders, we are a dangerous and furious offensive machine, especially with Lavezzi and Quagliarella up front. However, when Cigarini’s form declines, as it did in the second half (he was coming back from an injury so not at 100% yet), Napoli loses it’s vision and cohesion, reverting back to the ad hoc, haphazard anarchy that marked the negative extreme of last season. In a word, Napoli was clueless.

“This is ridiculous.” The anger and frustration mounted in the stands. I can’t remember what words I used to express my frustration to Drew, but in a small way I was kinda happy he was seeing this – somehow it made his first Napoli experience that much more complete. We couldn’t allow him to get spoiled, after all. Not with the second half of the season we lived earlier this year. As a Napoli fan, you gotta keep your feet on the ground and curtail your dreams. But don’t tell that to Attilio. “Attilio says this year we’re gonna win the scudetto!” Armando boasted. I can see Armando’s son inherited his father’s characteristic – and at times excessive – optimism.

Livorno kept the pressure on, and appeared to be moments away from equalizing on a few occasions. De Sanctis saved us at point blank range from Lucarelli, but the play that really made my heart skip a few beats came when a shot from outside the box wasn’t held by De Sanctis. He allowed the ball to slip out of his grasp, following a path parallel to the goal line. A Livorno player ran at full speed towards the ball. Nothing appeared to be able to stop him. I’m again not sure what word I used to describe my state of mine – in English – to Drew. It was either “****! ****! ****!” or “****! ****! ****!” Miraculously, Livorno’s Lithuanian striker Danilevicius barely touched the ball when attempting to slide it in, and Contini cleared it out of danger.

That play seemed to inject a bit of energy into Napoli. Well, that and the changes. Cigarini came out, replaced by Bogliacino. Datolo, who didn’t play badly at all in the first half, made room for another newbie, the Colombian Zuniga, who frankly looked out of place imposed on the left (he is naturally a right back).

And before long, Hamsik fed the ball to Lavezzi, who broke from the right towards center only to lose the ball in a slide tackle. A couple of Livorno defenders got a touch on the ball before it ended up in Quagliarella’s vicinity. Without hesitation, he volleyed a shot along the ground that proved unstoppable. 3-1!!!!! This goal actually reminded me of a play from last season. Sunday night, Lavezzi found himself directly in between Quagliarella shooting and the Livorno keeper trying to see what was going on. The ref that night judged his offside position as uninfluential, so the goal stood. But last season, 2-1 against Cagliari, a similar play saw Russotto shoot the ball in. Only that time, Lavezzi selfishly got a deflection on it – while offside – and thus the goal that would have put us 3-1 up didn’t count (and Cagliari would go on to tie the game at 2-2 minutes later…).

Quagliarella embraced by his teammates after his second goal

So that was it. The game ended 3-1. I kept waiting – and demanding – a fourth goal, if nothing else so Drew’s prediction could prove accurate. But alas, it was not to be.

As usual, we were the last the walk out of the stadium. The muggy night made me sweat considerably on the way back to Armando’s car. “Man, I really wish I could speak English so I could talk to Andrew right now!” Attilio expressed his frustrations, which were shared by Drew who wanted so much to communicate more with everyone. But Drew was unquestionably accepted by everyone and is officially a full fledged member of….”us.” I feel that “us” should have a name, but I can’t think of one except…”us.” Or maybe “Us” with a capitol U.

~~~

Considering how much I’ve hijacked my own blog to talk about personal stuff instead of Napoli, this particular entry should have featured a lot more personal introspection. But right now I’m not really in the mood. Maybe I’m just too worn out from months of stressing about my uncertain future. Or maybe I just don’t have the time to properly get into things here. Or maybe it’s just the inspiration that is lacking, or a desire to focus in the immediate (and positive) here and now: a 3-1, and a new friend added to “Us.” Those are the two most important things I’ll recall from that 30 August, 2009.

In many ways, the stadium experience in the two countries couldn’t be more different, a product no doubt of the existing differences between the two societies. So let me run down my thoughts:

Ticket procurement – I went to London with some Italian friends, who as I would discover are also Chelsea fans/sympathizers to whatever degree. Marco in particular (a Roman Inter fan…a rare breed) was fired up about trying to get tickets. Upon arriving in London, Stamford Bridge was our first stop. If nothing else, the crew was hoping to get a tour of the grounds, while I was essentially tagging along for the ride. We first asked about tickets to the girl working the cash register at the museum entrance. “All sold out” was all we got from her. Marco kept asking around, and finally hit the jackpot in the official gift shop. Some tickets were available for 65 Pounds (roughly $100). I was uncertain of attending (for some reason I was convinced the game was Sunday and not Saturday), so Marco got three tickets. Credit card form of payment, and that was that. No ID required, except for the credit card payment. The tickets themselves did not feature the name of the person attending on them.

Later in the day my friend Dario and I decided we also wanted to attend. Giuseppe’s cousin was also planning on getting himself a ticket, so we asked him to buy two more for us. Was not a problem. We provided no ID info, and none was required.

In Italy, due to (characteristically ridiculous) anti-hooligan measures, you are required to provide ID info for every ticket that you intend to purchase. Not just a name, verified by an official document, but also the codice fiscale number, which is basically the Italian equivalent of the US Social Security Number. This number must also be verified by an official document (i.e. you can’t just jot it down on a piece of paper and had it to a friend getting tickets for you, but must provide at least a photocopy of the official document granting you the number. I had to provide both a photocopy of my (US) passport and codice fiscale paperwork when getting the Napoli season tickets over the past couple of years, and that’s even with having the process significantly eased by going through a friend of a friend.

We also had to pay cash for the Napoli tickets. Existing season ticket holders wishing to renew their seats this season had to go to a number of ticket issuing venues, and had all of a couple of days in order to do this before their seats were thrown out for general purchase. And this in the month of August, when most people are out on vacation. People had to get in line in the sun and pay for the tickets in cash, or set up an automatic payment via their bank accounts. My friend Fabio told me that last year, an old man passed out from the heat while waiting in line to renew his ticket…the internet and credit card revolution has yet to truly hit Italy. Assuming it ever will.

Bottom line: getting tickets in England was a breeze, in Italy it has to be a huge, gargantuan pain in the ass ordeal (as is typically the case with anything one tries to accomplish in Italy…)

Security - we had to show our ticket all of once when entering Stamford Bridge. On a couple of occasions we had to ask stewards where our entrance was, but that was it. Otherwise, the one turnstyle where we had to have out ticket’s barcode scanned was the one place where our tickets were checked. There were also a number of stewards around, not to mention signs and reminders of what not to do: “it is an offence to go onto the pitch” or something to the effect that persistent standing during the game was also an offense, and you would be ejected from the stadium for standing.

In Naples, we have to show our tickets and ID (we never had to show ID in England) a few times before reaching our seats. The first check, then the second right before the turnstyles (a recent introduction in Naples…). Then we scan our ticket barcodes at the turnstyles, sometimes someone checks our tickets and ID right after the turnstyle, someone always checks our ticket and ID when we enter our specific sector, and sometimes they check everything one last time before the pitch itself is even visible to us. Argh. At least there are no rubber gloves involved.

In Naples, once you reach your seat there are no guarantees that 1) your seat will be unoccupied and 2) that any of the stadium’s “security” staff will aid you in freeing your seat should you find it occupied. There are also no guarantees that the security staff won’t confiscate your umbrella when you enter the stadium, regardless of that day’s weather (as I learned back in December…still bitter about the idiocy of that incident).

At Stamford Bridge, no one ever sat in another seat, nor attempted to enter the pitch or a sector of the stadium different than the one marked on their tickets. And yet, there was no real separation or barrier between the sectors, nor between the stands and the playing field. Unlike Italy, where the “away” fans sector is a veritable cage, complete with a netting that prevents home fans from throwing projectiles of any kind at visiting, and vice versa. At Stamford Bridge, there was only a token distance enforced between them at the Chelsea fans (three whole rows of seats) with a cordon of unarmed (and bored) security stewards in between. And once the game was over, the Hull City fans exited the stadium at the same time as the Chelsea fans, with no incidents occurring.

In Italy, the visiting team’s fans are often escorted by police both going into and exiting the stadium. In addition, once the game is over, the visiting fans can often be held up in the stadium for hours as the home fans exit and disperse, in an effort to keep rival fan groups apart. An experience that can be bewildering to fans being held up for hours, whether or not they had any intentions to participate in violent acts. Not to mention that some of these (excessive? painfully useless?) measures don’t prevent incidents from happening.

“Persistent standing in seated areas whilst play is in progress is strictly forbidden and may result in ejection from the ground.” Doh!

And here is where I’m very happy I couldn’t finish this post and sat on it for a few days: the WHU-Millwall fun! So, uh…kinda shoots some holes into where I was going with this post…so OK, we all knew English soccer/football wasn’t completely cleansed of hooligan violence, and on countless occasions I’ve heard comments in passing that “the hooligans have simply moved on elsewhere (presumably outside football grounds).” Regardless, it can’t be denied that Upton Park’s incidents aside, English stadiums are by and large safer than their Italian counterparts.

Which isn’t to say that Italian stadiums are war zones! I’ve attended two full seasons of Napoli games, and while Napoli ultras typically get along with…well, no one…I have yet to see a single incident of violence at the San Paolo while I was present (knock on wood). So there…

Bottom line: English stadiums appear to have efficient – and bored – security, while Italian stadiums are a little closer to the “pandemonium” end of the spectrum. Typically tons of security where it isn’t needed, not enough where it is…

An interesting development on this front is that there are some efforts at reducing security in Italian stadiums. The police chief of Florence has placed no police at all anywhere near Fiorentina’s ground on a few game days, the most recent being the Fiorentina-Sporting Lisbon Champions League preliminary round game. No incidents were reported. Also, I read earlier today that prior to the Juventus-Chievo game from Serie A’s opening day last Sunday, the “cage” I described above was removed. Not sure if this is a permanent measure, but it does seem that at least some officials in Italy are beginning to appreciate the concept that if you “empower” someone with a degree of responsibility, they may be more likely to live up to that expectation. I.e. “I’m not gonna surround you with police because I trust you will behave” and voil