The first time I fell in love was in the autumn of 79. Big brown eyes, a shock of curly blonde hair. Her name was Vanessa, but I remembered all the Shirley Temple. It was for her that I stopped acting up and I was convinced to go to kindergarten.
The second time I fell in love was the spring of '84. I remember the explosion of colorful stalls and my dad, I put a scarf around his neck beautiful. Not like those horrible that my mother forced me to wear to school. This was blue, with lots of lines; one white, one red, one black, one white. I remember a long, dark corridor, a defective neon that turns on and off, my hand close to that big and strong for my dad and my heart was beating fast.
At the end of the corridor, with its endless expanse of green grass scent of freshly shaved and a lot of people, lots of people. Never seen so many people together before that day. All
taken to singing, shouting and waving huge flags, colored like my scarf.
When they went on that big lawn players dressed in the same colors of scarves and flags, I immediately recognized the shirt of my team. It was the first time I saw her in real life, she was beautiful, the photo album on the cards do not do it justice. There were also those of the other team, they had black and blue striped shirt. My dad told me that he called Inter ... No, definitely, I did not like that shirt, with only two colors! I was pleased with my choice: cheer for the team with the finest mesh that existed.
My dad took me on his shoulders, around the noise was deafening, like a party. It was not carnival and even New Year, but was even more beautiful.
The game, frankly, I do not remember. I know that ultimately people do not sing anymore, in fact they were all angry and said a lot of profanity. We lost two to zero, but I did not care much, I was happy anyway, I just saw the best show in the world.
They say that love is a matter of chemistry, which can last a few years, then slowly fades away, leaving room for other feelings, affection, for example. Well, I'm lucky. I do love her with my same passion every Sunday for over 25 years.
When I see you recognize me now because on that day wearing the same scarf that my father gave me.
David Battaglia, May 2009
