The sense of being called Gattuso


The day is coming when the ball will roll again. For me this is the essence: the empty stadiums certainly make me sad, but the children at the playgrounds play without an audience, yet even that, if it’s football. Just have someone carry the ball. If anything, it is the theater of presidents, leaders, rulers to depress. In this planetary void, a short-sighted comedy was staged, at all levels: UEFA, first of all, who never misses an opportunity to demonstrate its structure as a planet of the apes and its polluted sea of ​​Magliana sharks (where not there is sea). But Fifa, federations and leagues have not been much better, on the contrary. Starting with the French. All of them scrambled and parry their asses before thinking about safety, people, sport.

Somehow we go back to playing and we Milanists get there with a sort of retreating battalion, in tatters in numbers and morale, without generals or colonels and indeed a couple of tired and disheartened captains. In pieces in condition and self-esteem. The soldiers, however, the real ones, are men who believe strongly in values ​​and fighting spirit, they do not give up even when they are exhausted. Let’s cling to these: Donnarumma, Romagnoli, especially Ibrahimovic. And to the attacking infantrymen who have courage: Hernandez, Bennacer, Castillejo, Rebic. We trust in the responsibility that for 3 years any graduate grants – stubbornly – to Calhanoglu. To the pride of the survivors, to the desire for revenge of Paquetà, to the seriousness of the immense Pioli treated like a stockfish, but glued to his duty.

Remnants of hope remain for a dignified finish, starting from that Italian cup elegantly driven in the first leg. Then it will be up to a new course, a new revolution, that will bury (pray to God) this swamp of zero years that we have behind us. Sad legacy of a Berlusconi more tired and distant than our own ramshackle troops today.

Wednesday I said goodbye to Francesca Gattuso in Gallarate. There were many people, she soothed the deep pain of such a cruel tragedy: for her and for Rino, that sad heartbroken procession is the harvest of those who, in life, sowed precious shoots of loyalty, friendship, sense of family, honesty . This treasure will continue to accompany us, dear Rino: in your heart torn, find its indelible memory and the smiles that remain on you. And in the beloved Milan that they forced you to leave, live the ardor of your surname forever.



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