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Due December 21. Bearzoff (Ie, a memory of Bearzot-through Magritte Dino Zoff)

If the same images, projected on different televisions at a distance of twenty-eight years, were able to return as a prism miraculous bodies today, stay and movement of who was watching in 1982, then certainly I would not mind the other night, while I viewed on La7 Italy-Brazil, to see the child on the couch, scrutante a bit 'the game a bit' my father, smoking a cigarette at the window for each goal by Paolo Rossi.

With elbows resting on the pillow placed on the marble sill (but it was risky to place a cushion in the balance on the third floor? No, it was just a pillow) Guerrino to hold back the wonder of the company Azzurri Bearzot, who chewed on the bench and shouted advice to Cabrera, the most at your fingertips, there on the left wing.

After stunted ties with Poland, Peru and Cameroon, and the surprising victory over Argentina, even the most incompetent and disingenuous journalists were now forced to renege on many of the criticisms of the Vecio furious with his pipe, and not, if bell'Antonio and Rossi were seen holding hands, maybe this might not mean that the two were homosexuals.

But back to that hot afternoon of sweaty T-shirts and torn, Bearzot ruminating in the shade of the bench, still unaware of the history that would unite to Vittorio Pozzo not just a few days later on the roof of the world, but also on the 1968 calendar and 2010: December 21, a case decided by the same date for the farewell to the life of two World Champions Ct.

seems that Marcello Lippi was interviewed by a famous sports daily, for a thing of Vecio, has declared that in 2011, each December 21 if they shut up at home, in solitude, the cigar is lit, cover consecutive Finals in Rome, Paris, Madrid and Berlin.

In the concluding minutes, a corner kick for Brazil was enough to turn millions of Italians terrified aspiring singers in the festival of Sanremo, with the cry:

"Esciiii"

Dino Zoff, the first solo voice, pushed away from this suggestion but convincing, he went out, locking in the socket. Then he watched with concern the satisfaction conductor, as a father with his eyes look quiet, but reassuring. Was done.

Bearzot, finder windows a little for granted, by bench Sarrià Barcelona responded to the gaze of the captain, alive miracle, paraphrasing Magritte:
"This is not a pipe. My children, you are my pipe. "

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The Courier mattress

Sometimes, especially when I find myself doing the cashier for six consecutive hours, I wonder why any daily or weekly decides to pay me for the things I write. I listen to my chest Beep number 7 for six consecutive hours, and passed the sorrow of not knowing why, after ten years of his career in the same company (during which I was involved in advising the prevalence of records and books in many Milanese ) for some time I will be used only Bip to do in case, my focus shifts Surnames dominant in several national newspapers. Their equality or similarity, let me answer the question: why no one pays me to write? Probably because my father was a journalist. And I think I told him: Dad, you the journalist. He, however, nothing, just wanted to make the mattress. All right. But if I had listened, now I would have been able to avail of the one thing that especially in Italy, guarantee inclusion in the workplace: the recommendation.

you browse through the pages of newspapers, and last names are always the same. Go to the movies, and actors are always already loro. Guardi SuperQuark , Piero e Alberto. Figli, nipoti, mogli, amanti. Ogni tanto qualcuno riesce a inserirsi in qualche professione avulsa alla storia della propria famiglia, per acclarata bravura o colpo di fortuna, garantendo così ai discendenti un sorprendente cambio di casta.

Leggo sempre divertito certi corsivi indignati contro Berlusconi (che non ho mai votato). Poi guardi chi l’ha scritto e dal cognome ti viene il dubbio che sia stato assunto in quel giornale per raccomandazione. Però si scaglia conto Berlusconi, dall’alto della sua integrità professionale. Perché Berlusconi è un furfante, lui invece no, è pulito. Perché, come disse una volta Piero Angela: “Non l’ho hired because he's my son, but because it is good. " Ok, but how many others there were good with different surnames?

I Bip continue and find the solution: the founding of the mattress Courier. All mattress and take it a bit 'of copies that way. Then do as Republic and Courier : some advertising with naked women or in his underwear, and other readers are insured. If you really want to exaggerate, corrupt few journalists digging competition (preferably with a reputation for incorruptible). Of those paid with coins to throw at the enemy's main owner of the newspaper, and I assure you another slice of the public. Nothing more I can do. Buy the
Courier mattress, please. I write too.

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Postponing: Napoli-Lecce (Taugenichts and the earthquake in Bet Lehem)

I remember a late afternoon Dicembrino eighties. To my mother and a boxcutter for one, had crossed two roads from the front door of our house to get to the foot of the castle that dominated the neighborhood, the city. What did they want mother and son with a knife? Regular pool and so barbarous a family quarrel? Attempt on the life of some unsuspecting passer-by? None of that.

The idea of \u200b\u200bTeresa, was to scrape the wall that preceded the beginning of Cidneo hill moss that had grown in order to get a lawn worthy of the crib at home. It was legal? Asked me confident enough to follow in the footsteps nursery. Probably, but not in jail than she would have gone there, not me, baby. Scratch scratch that you, too, in the end we were back home with our lawn on which to place the statues in a manner sedimented by age and then a few cones as trees, rocks, and a rectangle of aluminum foil to act as a pond.

sometimes came to see her cousins, and playing soccer or tennis with a sponge ball, it happened that the same term on the crib, overwhelming shepherds and animals. With the innocence of some cynical children's games, Giselle Elena and I got near the crib, trying to determine the cause of that tragedy. Meteorite Bet Lehem? Earthquake in the House of Bread? And to what degree? According to figures falling, death or injury, was established the level of the quake, according to Richter and Mercalli scales.

These thoughts keep coming back to me when I go in early December with Martin in a shop in Largo Schuster in Milan, specializing in cribs. Every year we add men, women and sheep to our representation, forced to give priority to save money some people than others. For example, the Kings do not have them yet, but if this initially I was sorry not now, because every year I see the inside of Bethlehem appeared increase, and I think the day that the city will be complete. Before going to

Tricell , I wonder if I'll find behind the counter inside the former Juventus and free to serve in Verona, but then I'll settle for an elderly lady who, surprisingly, comes out at our feet by a trapdoor on the floor. Once past the frightened astonishment of a person who rises from the underground timber to ask you what you want, it's time to choose the figures of the year. Marta her, I mine, and this year mine is asleep with a red hat resting on his stomach, looking in his nap, so much to remember the protagonist of "Life of an idler" di Joseph von Eichendorff , tra i libri che portavo sottobraccio quando intorno ai vent’anni oltre a lavorare andavo in giro per i parchi di Brescia a leggere da solo, pensando di essere qualcosa di simile a un poeta, che però vendeva anche lavatrici e frigoriferi.

Il perdigiorno addormentato adesso brilla nel nostro presepio, e siccome ho smesso di giocare con la pallina in casa perché sono una persona matura, mi sono permesso di chiedergli se, come statuina, si senta offeso quando i giornalisti più astuti definiscono “difese di belle statuine”, quelle immobili su cross avversari adatti a far svettare di testa punte col fiuto del gol, per intenderci il contrario di Amauri. Un po’ sì, mi ha detto the onlookers, but in the end I scrubs, please let me sleep.

Then in the evening walk back from a theater where I saw Erri De Luca speak in the name of the mother. Trampled snow, reflecting on the extraordinary nature of Miriam, Iosef wife, mother of Ieshu, able to give birth alone, with a knife and a bowl of water. What is the link between the knife and that my and my mother? Because the snow does not stop the blood? With all the snow that fell, they returned a few games? How much white in the stadium-Bet Lehem cave?

I heard some say that the evil pastor, because of the waste problem, this year may have to win the championship Napoli. Non gli ho creduto. Di certo la squadra di Mazzarri è molto fortunata, e Cavani assomiglia pure ad un Ieshu adulto. Dopo ogni rete non si dimentica mai di ringraziare Dio, con le braccia indica il cielo, mormorando qualcosa con gli occhi spiritati. Del resto, la traiettoria del pallone scagliato dal “Teschio” uruguagio domenica pomeriggio come sempre oltre il novantesimo, qualcosa di religioso certamente aveva.

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Carlo D'Amicis on My father was beautiful

Pubbico la recensione di Carlo D'Amicis su "Mio padre era bellissimo" tratta da l'immaginazione (novembre 2010).

Carlo D’Amicis su
FRANCESCO SAVIO, Mio padre era bellissimo
Italic Pequod 2009

Una solida corrente di pensiero vorrebbe la
generazione dei nati tra l’inizio degli anni Sessanta
e la fine degli anni Settanta come una collettività
disgregata e individualista: la prima a
crescere priva di quelle esperienze comuni che
furono, nel nostro Novecento, le due guerre, il
regime, l’antifascismo, i movimenti giovanili.
In realtà, nel leggere molti recenti romanzi,
questa tesi appare rivedibile. C’è oggi una cordata
di narratori fin troppo incline al reciproco rispecchiamento,
connotata from a certain background

less ideological than their previous ones, but not fading.
No political, or cultural
has served to consolidate a generation of twenty years
between economic boom and the years of lead
: watching television often grew in areas
family are much narrower and often uprooted, oppressed by
a sense of isolation and marginalization, the generation that wanted

disunited and fragmented now recognizes compact and
almost surprised, in the many narratives that describe
a strong, albeit unintentional and unconscious,
tract identity.
It so happens that nell'attingere al proprio vissuto,
i narratori che appartengono a questa vasta
nidiata di soli ed uguali si ritrovino costantemente
di fronte a un’insidia: quella cioè di scivolare
nel mainstream, in un flusso dove l’elemento
del riconoscimento, o addirittura dell’epica generazionale,
prevale su quello della ricerca personale.
Di fronte a questa insidia il quasi esordiente
Francesco Savio (già autore di un racconto nell’antologia
che Manni ha dedicato, nel 2008, a
Bob Dylan) sceglie una strategia umile e sfrontata
al tempo stesso: semplicemente non se ne
cura, misurandosi con i tanti topoi del romanzo
(primo tra tutti, quello della linea d’ombra, qui
anticipata ai 9 anni, l’età in cui il protagonista del
romanzo perde il padre) come se il suo piccolo
Nicola fosse, in un certo senso, il primo bambino
del mondo ad avvicinarli. Con il risultato che
il romanzo si rivela fragile nella sua presunta forza
(il volere attingere al vasto repertorio dei moderni
riti di passaggio: lo sport, gli straniamenti
linguistici, la bambina-principessa “dai capelli
biondi e dagli occhi profondi come oceani”) ma
forte della sua fragilità: il candore un po’ spericolato
con cui l’autore si incammina in un solco già
largamente battuto, infatti, diventa la stessa innocenza
the protagonist against
too big an event as the death of his father,
and who does not know what else to offer if not
its highest, extreme, painful sensitivity.
short, there is, in my father was very handsome, a
that naive that can address
Savio (unmistakable sign of talent) to a fresh
and transparency that, ultimately, seduce the reader more
also warned that that reading
leaks in bicycle Nicola,
is brought to review, in reduced format of the Alex
Jack Frusciante, who, going into the tragic tale
dell'Hysel, is forced to compare
with powerful symbolic value that, by the same
true story, the result of the last novel
Lagioia; that, in poetic detail how
"synecdoche of complexity", which often relies
Savio to represent the sensitivity
child, review the acumen minimal
Francesco Piccolo. What
"My father was very handsome, in short, is a
beaten path. Savio
But through it with a quick pace and light that makes it attractive
travel companion. His generation, believing
crying
only their own parents, it turned out to celebrate the final
mourning of their fathers; credendo di poltrire davanti alla tv
si è scoperta ad officiare un rito collettivo; credendo
di essere totalmente de-responsabilizzata,
disincanta, disimpegnata, si è scoperta sulle
spalle il peso del crollo morale e civile di un Paese.
Anche per lui la sfida è dunque quella della
complessità: affondare nella propria formazione
per connetterla allo spirito dei tempi, scavare nel
privato per raccontare storie pubbliche, educare
la propria memoria alla profezia del futuro.

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Postponing: Juventus-Lazio (Trembling on the edge with Henry David Thoreau)

Ancora nel 1848, Henry David Thoreau era a malapena noto ai suoi concittadini di Concord, che al massimo lo apostrofavano come un tipo strambo che era andato a vivere in una casupola nei boschi di Walden, e che aveva passato una notte al fresco per essersi rifiutato di pagare la tassa elettorale pro capite. I più maligni addirittura, avevano sparso la voce che il presunto “trascendentalista”, giunto alla soglia dei trent’anni, si fosse rifugiato nei boschi solamente perché tra gli alberi il segnale televisivo giungeva con maggiore pulizia visiva rispetto al centro di Concord, dove sia Sky che Mediaset Premium faticavano a garantire una copertura soddisfacente.

Conscio di queste cattiverie, quando un mattino Thoreau aveva intravisto una lettera nella cassetta della posta, aveva pensato immediatamente al peggio: si trattava con quasi certezza del solito fastidioso cittadino che chiedeva il perché del trasferimento a Walden oppure, in seconda battuta, del solito fastidioso cittadino che voleva sapere per quale squadra della serie A simpatizzasse il cosiddetto “filosofo naturale”, amico di Emerson (non il Puma brasiliano ma Ralph Waldo ). Davvero aveva traslocato nella casupola solo per dedicarsi “agli studi che hanno più direttamente a che fare con questo pianeta”? Davvero Thoreau non sentiva il desiderio della compagnia degli amici, bastante a se stesso, al suo “essere niente”?
Difficile da credere, com’era difficile ignorare certe esplosioni vocali di gioia che parevano provenire dal bosco al sabato sera o alla domenica, casualmente in concomitanza con lo svolgimento del campionato di calcio.

La lettera invece era di Harrison Blake di Worcester, Massachusetts , un ammiratore dell’ancora sconosciuto “mistico”, il quale incitava Thoreau a iniziare una corrispondenza per aiutarlo ad innalzarsi “a una vita più vera e più pura”.
La soddisfazione di Henry David era stata grande: pur non ritenendosi niente, qualcuno gli aveva fatto capire che forse poteva essere qualcosa. Una volta aperta la busta, le poche righe scritte da Blake avevano confermato la sensazione positiva di poco prima. Finalmente qualcuno comprendeva il significato della sua scelta, his desire to separate from society, from the spell of the institutions, by custom, by conformism
... And the humility of the desperate spiritual distress, which ended with the disappointment felt "trembling on the brink" was the decisive drop to accept the idea of \u200b\u200bfriendship on paper, to put into practice immediately, or better after the game of the week.

Using the remote control to turn down the volume to zero as usual on television, in order not to lose the sounds of the forest that came out of the window ajar, Thoreau decided to Juventus-Lazio, fascinated by the potential of the sixteenth day of the meeting of the cartel .
time to sit down, and Giorgio Chiellini Juventus took the lead, then performing a repeated beat his fists on his chest designer Balocco, methodology of exultation that Henry David appeared as a fine quotation from when the man was still in the forests. Nice of the captain and Juventus do not forget about the Nature of a time, now that fur and tail were gone and the man standing could have fun hitting the ball with his head in anticipation of aggressive others like them.
central example of Livorno, Storari had also decided to launch into a tribute to nature, assuming a vine to cling to an imaginary space to fill in white, black and heavenly, but unfortunately in his upward flight he had forgotten to grab the ball with precision, in sharp blue eyes, and Gianluigi Buffon, in the stands, at least for a second thought: the first error in sixteen days, bad for Juve but at least the fans will remember that I exist. Zarate had the opportunity to equalize.

During breaks in play, Thoreau took over the letter he had written to the admirer of Worcester, dwelling on the "Aihm But, I tremble on the brink," that alone was worth all the insecurity of being human, and a number of things much more extensive shortage of indecent enclosed in the best words. What to say to Blake? something that would simplify the problem of life, leaving peace in God and things, pointing to the peaks. And while

divided into twenty-seven points, the answer began to arrive, ten seconds from 94 Momo Sissoko hit a low shot diagonal step than ever in his career. In five seconds the young Cavanda, unable to predict the unpredictable, it was just time to observe that cut past behind. Three, Milos Krasic darted like an arrow toward the door of Muslera to cross, or pull. When in doubt, on the edge of the end, Lazio goalkeeper smanacciava trembling with glove-like when a tennis racket want to give the effect, but in her door.

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Fahrenheit Rome and the Coliseum Square

Come verso la fine della vita può capitare di rimpiangere per un secondo certe cose non fatte o certe donne non fermate per strada, pur accettando l’impossibilità di non poter fare ogni cosa e di non poter fermare ogni donna, così ogni volta che vado a Roma ho la sensazione che mi manchi sempre del tempo, quello necessario per osservare con attenzione le meraviglie che la capitale mostra o nasconde, a seconda delle situazioni e della prontezza di chi la sbircia.

Ad esempio mercoledì, mentre raggiungevo il Palazzo dei Congressi dell’ EUR per partecipare alla puntata di Fahrenheit trasmessa in diretta dalla Fiera Più libri Più Liberi, speravo mi avanzasse del tempo (sempre quello, prima o dopo) per guardare da vicino il Palazzo della Civiltà Italiana , soprannominato anche il Colosseo Quadrato o Groviera, e controllare quindi se corrispondeva al vero quell’informazione letta su Wikipedia (ebbene sì, anche io consulto Wikipedia, come del resto fa Michel Houellebecq, ovvero l’autore di uno dei libri più belli che ho letto in questo 2010) e cioè che “in alcune ore del giorno e in particolare di notte, l’edificio del Piacentini esprimesse un evidente fascino di architettura metafisica”. Che poi uno può cliccare su Piacentini Italian Rationalism and if he wants to know more, or at least something.

However, I calculated the time taken by Ottaviano to the EUR Fermi order not to delay the appointment of radio and I could afford some spied metaphysics, but I had not reckoned with the work in the subways of Termini Station able to slow down to two experienced walkers like me and M.

parties then with the sun, emerging from EUR Fermi was raining, so we took the shuttle bus to the Fair and the Coliseum Square so I've only seen the window, without being able to approach the Swiss cheese as I had hoped.

Come in ogni luogo chiuso affollato, dentro il Palazzo dei Congressi faceva molto caldo, e mentre pensavo a non dire scemenze durante la spiegazione del perché avevo scelto “Nel territorio del diavolo” di Flannery O’Connor come “mio libro” della Fiera, altri pensieri, votati a tranquillizzarmi, mi facevano tornare a poche ore prima quando, presso un famoso antico forno-focacceria sito in Campo de’ Fiori, avevo notato appena fuori dal bagno una maglia di Totti autografata dentro un quadro, e per un attimo avevo desiderato comportarmi da vero inesperto di calcio, avvicinando il gestore per chiedere: “Scusi, ma il Totti non giocava mica nella Lazio?”.
Ottima in any case, the cake, even if the risks described from driving dirty face and beard of white flour, was indeed not be underestimated.

at 17.10 I went on the air, accompanied by Christian Raimo of Minimum Fax, author of the preface of essays on the craft of writing of O'Connor. I said mine, exposing listeners to Radio 3 what readers already knew almost Network. Things related to grace, and courage to look. Loredana Lipperini Then the presenter asked me point blank what the book would, in a life of paper and not meat, so I said "bitter life," Luciano Bianciardi. A part of the audience seated in caffè letterario sotto il palco ha emesso un breve boato di approvazione, e sorpreso ho realizzato di aver fatto goal. O meglio, di averla passata bene a Bianciardi che, davanti a Julio Sergio, ha fatto quello che solo i campioni sanno fare: saltare in dribbling il portiere, e accompagnare la palla oltre la riga di porta.

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The Boy with hair like Pavel Nedved

Ho conosciuto un ragazzo che, per diventare come il suo campione preferito, era solito recarsi dal parrucchiere per farsi pettinare i capelli come il suo campione preferito.

Per una coincidenza sfortunata, il suo campione preferito era Pavel Nedved, proprietario di una chioma bionda irripetibile, source from the center of the head and then spread, leaping through waves during the race, up almost to his shoulders.

E 'was perhaps for the time lost by the hair and look in the mirror that the boy did not become as strong as Nedved, can be understood clearly by reading my normal life, the autobiography written by former Czech champion player Juventus and Lazio in collaboration with Michele Dalai, and published by to d d .

Read the life of an important person is nice when the story shines through the normality of being extraordinary, and when this excellence is described without assumptions. And 'this is the case of normal life Pavel, which started in Cheb, west of the Czech Republic in 1972 and continued mainly in Prague, Rome and Turin. Places where Nedved has devoted more time to strengthen his bright talent for combing her beautiful hair.

Now I could tell of the Velvet Revolution, the Roman Holiday of the Ballon d'or Pavel. Certain derby or a warning to forget. But I will not spoil the read for those who perhaps is already running, just not as fast as Czech Fury, to the nearest bookstore to buy the precious book, surprising, moreover, the bookseller with a blonde wig worn explosive for the occasion.

prefer to uncover a secret hidden on the right page 96, where usually, as everyone knows, space is page 97. Not in this case.
On the right of the starting 96 photographs, Nedved with a boy who shone in the midst of other classmates. The question is why some people shine in the photos? Just a matter of light, or agreements with the photographer? No, I do not believe it. You do not know, but if you know the truth, let me know.