The story of the other night needs to be completed. So we need to take our notes again and go back to Gelsenkirchen, in the belly of the stadium, where the match against Spain had ended an hour ago.
Last round of phone calls with via Solferino, Donnarumma will talk about the Azzurri and so they decide to put him on the back foot, please remove that repetition from the last paragraph, in Tomaselli’s report cards the worst is Di Lorenzo and he gets a 4, there is Passerini who he is listening to the final part of Spalletti’s press conference and in the meantime Alessandro Bocci, who is in front, leads our small group down towards the mixed zone.
You must imagine a narrow path between barriers, in the dim light, guarded by stewards and officers in riot gear, which the footballers follow to reach the buses. Forty years ago you went to talk to them while they were still in their bathrobes, getting dressed, and it was normal for them to be there to answer you, to explain to you. Now they prefer slick yourself with gel and apply their anti-wrinkle creams on their own and you have to hope that, as they leave, they then want to stop and tell you two things. And, usually, they don’t want to.
But this one mixed zone is a good place to observe them closely. And to thus understand even better what may have happened on the pitch. Now, for example, it is plastically much clearer how and why the Spaniards were able to hit us with balls, giving us a football lesson.
You see them parade in front of you and this one advancing yes, it’s him, it is Rodri. The strongest playmaker in Europe and, perhaps, in the world. Guardiola, literally, loves him. Market experts say City value him around 120/130 million euros. You stand there thinking that it passed just now Jorginho. We had him directing our operations. At 32 years old, with his career well into its twilight, he was struggling to find a place even at Arsenal. At a certain point, Spalletti even shouted at him that he had to at least get the ball, “Otherwise there’s no point in him playing!”. He changed it at half-time. And he let us in Cristante, who however is not a director. Jorginho nature reserve would be, here it is, Beans. Despite the stench of the disqualification that he carries with him, Spalletti preferred him to Ricci, because he says that, among our young people, he is the most modern Italian playmaker. He brought it, but he doesn’t trust it. Fagioli is 23 years old. Two more than Williams. A left winger who treated Di Lorenzo, the Napoli captain, like he was a skittle. Williams appears laughing with Yamal. They greet a Spanish TV presenter and disappear into the darkness. You know everything about Yamal. He is a minor. And he also has the face of a minor. Except he’s a fantastic underage right winger. Barcelona signed him to a contract with a release clause worth one billion euros.
Then some blue uniform arrives, our wings pass by. That’s Zaccagni. Understood? Zaccagni. And here’s the back too El Shaarawy, who is a reserve for Roma. Spalletti, supposedly in complete mortification, was undecided whether to prefer Orsolini.
The truth is that we have these. The current dimension of Italian football is within one concrete modesty. Which we insist on undermining only with words. Take Frattesi. On the eve of the European Championship he seemed to be the fittest Italian player. He has to play, let’s give a shirt to Frattesi, if Spalletti doesn’t put Frattesi in, then he doesn’t understand anything about football. Except that Frattesi, for an entire year, was on the bench at Inter and in fact then, towards the middle of the first half, Rodri and Fabian Ruiz and Pedri decided to put him in the middle in a kind of painful “bull”. Fabian Ruiz is a sumptuous footballer, who oozes class, and let’s leave aside the magnificent Pedri. Do you know how many he has? Twentyone. More or less, in the same role as him, wearing the heavy number 10 shirt, we have Pellegrini, seven years older. There is some difference, objectively.
A reporter arrives panting, he works for El Pais, and asks if Morata has stopped by. Yes, a little while ago. The Spaniards are already on the bus. He is looking for Morata, 31 years old, 7 goals spread over three European Championships. Donnarumma looked for Scamacca with a few throws: 25 years old, 18 appearances and one goal. Scamacca never rubbed her, ever. Retegui did even worse. We will be able to say that we saw, in the national team, the relay between Scamacca and Retegui.
Cristante and Mancini pass. Followed by Chiesa (it was clear why Motta gave the green light to his transfer) and Stretcherthe only one — together with Donnarumma — to have a dimension, an international rank. Behind them appears Cats. Understood? Cats in blue. AND Folorunsho. If anyone recognizes Folorunsho, even in photos, they deserve a prize.
Then, in the glare of the streetlights, as we were returning to the cars, we heard someone say: “In any case, if I were Spalletti, I would have Modric man-marked…”.
