We will always remember him with his eternal child smile. A child who loved to play football and who, growing up, gave dreams of glory to an entire generation.
Paolo Rossi was one of us, he was the child who, like us, played football under the house or in the oratory, with his dream of becoming a champion. As we did.
Paolo Rossi was one of us, because he was so similar to us. Like us, he was born in the provinces, he had no prehensile feet to glue the ball. He did not have an imposing stature, like so many of his attacking colleagues. He couldn't give elbows, but he received them. Like us, he had a very normal physique, perhaps even a little frail, but his speed was, above all, mental. He knew, an instant before the others, where the ball would go and he, an instant before the others, would get there. When a defender lost sight of him for a moment, it was late, the ball was already on the net. He never missed any opportunities, in fact, he was said to be a striker opportunist.
Remembering Paolo Rossi, for those of my generation, born in the mid-60s, means telling about their youth. Retrace the years, periods, instants that Paolo Rossi has marked, characterized, marked with his career as a footballer. The first image of Paolo Rossi does not bring me back, as it would be natural, to the wonderful days of the Sarrià in Barcelona, where an unforgettable fairy tale began with the national team led by Enzo Bearzot. It is not even an image in black and white, of his winning seasons with the Juventus shirt, but he has the red and white colors of Vicenza. A stadium. the "Romeo Menti" of Vicenza, where the local team began to fly thanks to the networks of its center forward. A number 9, a wren all skin and bones, who began to amaze everyone. The images of “90 ° Minuto”, the Vicenza stadium, with a camera that seemed wedged between two pillars of the stadium, which made those shots unique. And, then, its networks. So many.
The Vicenza of miracles, led by GB Fabbri, serious injuries, football bets, the move to Juventus, the national team, Enzo Bearzot, the World Cup in Spain in 1982, Nando Martellini and his "Rossi, Rossi, Rossi", repeated in a wonderfully obsessive way, the Golden Ball, the league titles, the European cups. Many moments of a career that was not always easy, studded with accidents of a different nature, but on which his eternal child smile always managed to get the better of. Falling and then getting up, like when, on the pitch, the defenders found nothing better to do than throw him down, to stop him. Falling and then getting up, stronger than before. Always.
The 6 goals at the World Cup in Spain are pearls set in our memory as boys. Those networks, those victories, those uncontrolled and uncontrollable joys, which dragged us through the streets to celebrate, on cars, mopeds and bicycles, with a red flag we don't know how, made us feel unbeatable. And they made us dream. One of us, one like us, had crashed the giants of football, such as Maradona's Argentina, Zico's Brazil and Germany, the eternal rival, in addition to Poland, defeated in the semifinals.
Then we all could win. We, like him, little David, could defeat the many Goliaths that life began to place before us. Paolo Rossi was one of us when he played, when he spoke, in every situation. He was a friend, perhaps, a little older, but in whom we would meet again.
That intelligence so lively, which lit up his smile as an eternal child, which continued, as an adult, to live his dream of playing football. As a commentator, his Tuscan accent, his bright eyes, always showed the regret of no longer being on a green lawn. He would have liked to hear his former colleagues commenting on his goal. Because Paolo Rossi was one of us and, like us, he loved playing football.
With him goes a little of our eternal being Peter Pan, despite the gray hair and creaking knees. Eternal children who dreamed, dream and will always dream of running after a ball, shooting at goal, getting angry for a moment, because the goalkeeper rejected the shot.
But the anger lasts only an instant. In fact, on the goalkeeper's rebuff, first of all, as always, Pablito arrives, and throws it in, that ball. He wins, we win.
Hi Pablito, one of us. Forever.
