Happy birthday, Gigi

Today is that day when, once again, we stop and look at the sky. As if searching for a sign, to rediscover those reassuring gestures of the hand and head that Gigi Riva would give you when you crossed paths with him in the streets of our city. It’s the first birthday without him, but never before has it been so fitting to speak of a total presence. In his example, in the memories, in the numbers, in the wind that lashes the shores of his beloved adopted land, in the roar of the rossoblù passion, in the football (and beyond) world that has always admired and celebrated him.

On November 7, 1944, a grey and rugged Lombardy heard the first cries of Luigi, who 19 years later would find his true home in Sardinia, forever. Cruel was the fate of that boy, brutally shaped by life, who kicked hard, yes, but above all, kicked with his soul. The people of the island immediately felt he was one of their own, long before he became “Giggirrivva.” Gigi was not just talent, acrobatics, or spectacular goals: he was the struggle, the resistance, the silence that precedes the roar. He was the echo of a distant thunder that carried with it the scent of the sea.

Gigi was consistency, perhaps the highest value among the many he embodied. The ability to say no, even when it seemed impossible, the hombre vertical as the most cherished and fitting nickname among the many attributed to him. The 1970 Scudetto as a gem for the almanacs and a badge that today allows us to speak with even greater force about what he was. But a football triumph is too narrow to explain what Gigi Riva, along with his friends and teammates, represented for generations. If today even the youngest see Rombo di Tuono as a superhero more relevant than ever, it’s because his myth endures and renews itself every day, just as he did in the face of injustices, struggles, and tackles.

Every goal by Riva was a message: to himself, to those who truly loved him, to those who saw Sardinia in the wrong way. The top scorer of the Italian National Team with a record that seems unbreakable for the champions who followed him, a warrior with a noble heart, who fought even at the cost of injuring himself — and he sacrificed his leg twice, both times in the blue jersey.

“Here is everything I need,” he used to say about Sardinia, without rhetoric or flattery. Because Gigi knew that true love doesn’t need spotlights, but roots. Today, for many years now, for those who support Cagliari and beyond, it’s the Natale rossoblù (Rossoblu Christmas). On January 22, 2024, Sardinia stopped to say goodbye to him. A silent and composed procession began: men and women, young and old, like a pilgrimage, paying tribute to the champion who had never left his land. It was as if every step, every gaze directed at Gigi, was a way of saying: “Thank you for choosing us, thank you for never betraying us.”

Today, on the day he would have turned eighty, we celebrate the man who made entire generations fall in love. Closing our eyes, it almost feels like we can still hear the roar of that powerful shot of his, like a promise that never fades, like a legend that grows and renews itself.

Happy birthday, Gigi. And thank you, forever.