A YEAR WITHOUT GIGI
Hi Gigi,
Sorry to disturb you, Gigi. How are you? What’s going on? Down here, we’re getting fragmented news. It seems that you’ve rekindled your historic connection with “Pietruzzu” and formed a dream trident with Gianluca and Totò. You’ll have to face that guy with the number 13 who plays in defense – he’s strong, tough to get past. We don’t know if it’s all true, but we like to think so.
Who knows what duets with Diego and “Pablito,” what duels with “Kaiser Franz,” and maybe you’ve even brought your friend Fabio, the “Black Spider,” back into action. But, as always, by your side are your friends – before they were teammates – from that wonderful adventure: Claudio, Eraldo, Mario, Comunardo, Giulio, Cesare, and “Bobo.”
Since you left us, nothing has been the same. We’ve celebrated you in every possible way. Knowing you as we do, you probably let out a puff of smoke from your hundredth cigarette, gave a half-smile, and thought that we’re all crazy. You would have commented that you didn’t deserve so much, that after all, you were just a footballer, just as you said in an interview with Rai, in the belly of Sant’Elia, after your last injury, against Milan in 1976.
The truth is, we loved you, and we miss you. A year has passed, and it’s gone by as quickly as you did when you flew down the pitch with the ball at your feet, tearing through defenders and goalkeepers. Maybe we haven’t accepted it yet. The thing is, to us, you were more than just a footballer. You were our warrior King, refusing the crown and continuing to fight. You didn’t speak much, but that little was enough. It was the actions that counted, right? You were our pride, our honor. A banner to hold high, the rock we clung to when the winds grew fiercest. Our beacon, our certainty. You stood with the weak, an enemy of injustice. You arrived in a strange and wild land, and you felt at home. With your companions in this adventure, you turned it into a happy Island, one that charmed those looking at it from beyond the sea, their eyes clouded with prejudice and ignorance. With your acrobatic scissor kicks, you turned our world upside down. You made it better.
Now all we have left are the memories. Each of us has our own, kept deep within. Little snapshots to bring out on a dark night. That special shot, that diving header, that decisive goal. Or a simple childhood encounter, where we could barely catch our breath seeing you in front of us, ending with an autograph and a caress. We try to soften the loss, to fill the emptiness. We are lonelier, even though we don’t show it. We endure. Just as you would have wanted.
Now we’ll leave you in peace, Gigi. A strong salute, all the way up there.
