When Paul told me to have an extra ticket to go and see the whole, I thought it was not an coincidenza il fatto che io, da qualche giorno, stessi leggendo La fuga del signor Monde , romanzo del 1945 di Georges Simenon. E casualità non era nemmeno la visione di un’intervista del 1963 allo scrittore belga che, sempre negli stessi precedenti giorni, mi era capitato d’intercettare sulla Rai. Se a questi due indizi aggiungiamo i dubbi che Paolo già più volte mi aveva espresso in merito all’altalenante rendimento stagionale di Maicon Douglas Sisenando, terzino della sua squadra del cuore, sono arrivato alla prova che dovevo superare: l’unico modo di sdebitarmi con l’amico che, per la prima volta in vita, mi consentiva di guardare una partita al Meazza dalla postazione privilegiata del primo anello arancio, sarebbe stato quello di trovare una spiegazione convincente alla flessione temporale nel numero 13 interista. Il romanzo di Simenon è la storia della scomparsa di Norbert Monde, in una fredda mattina d’inverno, mentre il suo autista lo portava come ogni giorno da trent’anni, alla ditta di import-export fondata da suo nonno. La partenza dalla stazione parigina di Gare de Lyon in direzione Marsiglia, spinto dalla voglia di vedere il mare, una fuga naturale perché sognata da tempo, e scattata chissà perché proprio quel giorno. Forse perché era quello del suo compleanno. Forse perché quel mattino, fissandosi allo specchio, si era visto per la prima volta con i propri occhi, indifferent and not with others.
The tram number 16 and with Paul Simenon, the inventor of Fuite de Monsieur Monde told us her story of prolific and versatile writer, his method of work (which always provided a first draft in pencil with tiny handwriting, then sorted into notebooks by typing). His trick to choose the names of the characters from the phone book until he had not heard any live summoned, with vanity or the illusion of being a character concern. And his first meeting with André Gide, who, after having done so in a room to accommodate the publisher Gallimard, had locked the door, sit down. Fearful, Georges Simenon had been questioning the author of The Underground Vatican starting with the question:
"Simenon, at what age she has become his character?" By Georges
first unable to understand the meaning of the question and if that was directed to him or the Commissioner Maigret. Then forced to respond that he, in fact, had never heard of the character himself, but only Georges Simenon.
crossed the turnstiles, I and Paul without difficulty, Simenon scrutinized with suspicion by some steward because of his pipe, can be misinterpreted as a weapon of launch, after the opening whistle we were able to watch the players on the ground playing a few yards away, hearing the noise of conflict, noting some of the fascinating air suspension for coming off headers. The vertical stage, beautiful in its heavy beauty, seemed to imprison the twenty-two in the field, posing as a result of not playing fair, decided by one goal Frog offside.
Along the strip, the listless Maicon more than run fast walking, as leaving the door open just a crack of its powerful and bright talent. When an action that ended badly as he was concerned, it did make the gesture of the fist against the other open hand as if to say: "What a shame." Or, more plausibly: "Fuck."
Then he fell in defense, low speed, asking an unsuspecting captain Zanetti:
"Javier, why that day?"
"What?"
"Yes Captain, you know? The escape of Mr. Monde, because on that day? "
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