Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Understanding your Calcio
Roberto Gotta
Hard times for Italian football. I wrote last week that no one in his right mind believes that some top clubs would ever close down because of financial mismanagement, but I was wrong, perhaps, and some are already starting to think differently.
Pierluigi Collina: Pick of the crop. (GaryMPrior/GettyImages)
A group of friends I had not seen for some time spotted me scuttling towards the gates of Bologna's Stadio Dall'Ara on Sunday and they all asked me the same question, almost in unison: 'Will it really happen?'.
I have no idea, of course, but the fact they barely needed to specify what 'it' meant opened my eyes.
Italian football has reached many crisis points in its history, but this may be the worst of all, because very few now seem able to accept that some clubs be allowed to get away with things that regular citizens would be punished for. Perhaps.
If you want to understand the roots of the 'Italian Disease' in all sectors, read Rosemary Righter's article on Parmalat and corporate culture in Tuesday's The Times and extend her analysis to football and you will begin to scratch the surface about the current situation.
But enough with doom and gloom. Let's try to shed a brighter light on the state of Italian soccer and here's a short list of words you must know if you ever find yourself on train in Italy and do not want to be left out of the inevitable football conversation, which will immediately veer towards conspiracy theories and ref-baiting.
'Arbitro'. Come on, you know it. It means referee, and its mere mention raises the blood pressure of every football loving Italian. If you are at a stadium and hear 'Arbitro!' brace yourself for the accompanying words, which will not be kind.
'Venduto' means he was actually 'bought' by one of the teams (it can get confusing when both sets of fans use the same word during a game); 'Cornuto' is an older version, and basically means the fans think the ref's wife is probably up to some dirty tricks while he's doing his job on the pitch.
Famously, a ref's wife was watching a game with some girlfriends in a Milan restaurant last month, when she overheard a fan shouting his name and adding the inevitable insult; she turned around, looked the man in the face and told him 'Hey, he's not cornuto because I am his wife and I am sitting innocently with my friends here. Do you know where your wife is, though?'.
No one ever concedes they may be acting in good faith (see below: 'Sudditanza') and you wonder how anyone of a sound mind and non-masochistic tendencies would seek a career as a 'Fischietto' (whistle) in Italy today.
Pierluigi Collina may be a star, but despite his refusal to bow down to anyone - or perhaps, more appropriately, because of it - was 'turned down' by Juventus for a long time until he ran their 0-4 reversal at Roma two weeks ago.
A book was published last year with a collection of excerpts of rulings of the official Italian Football Federation disciplinary committee following assaults on referees at all levels: after leafing through its 300-plus pages you may find yourself amazed at just how many different ways players and officials can find to give a ref hell. Why, there are even cases of linesmen assaulting refs after or during a game!
The practice is common every week for sports newspapers to print a capsule portrait of each ref in charge of matches, complete with their records (wins, draws, losses, penalties, yellow and red cards) against the relevant teams.
There may be people in the stands knowing more about the career of, say, ref Pellegrino than of any player from the visiting team. Enough said. 'Sudditanza' - The dictionary does not completely help, with its translation as 'subjection'.
The psychological state of sudditanza means you favour the bigger club without even knowing it. You give them the benefit of doubt on most of the fifty-fifty tackles, you tend to give them corners if you can't see who touched the ball last near the byline, and you can always find a Pavlovian way to gift them a penalty without knowing it.
Frequent users of this 'When in doubt whistle for the team wearing stripes' theory can lead to confusion when two of the above teams - which shall go unmentioned as there's no need to identify them - play each other. You be the judge.
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No one that I know admits to watching 'Il Processo' as a football talk show. Everyone says 'It's comedy in its highest form', but someone must have been watching it for it to last more than twenty years.
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'Processo': trial, usually. But now if you mention the word 'processo' the image that creeps up in your mind is not that of wig-wearing judges or dusty courtrooms with bored-looking clerks.
If you've got anything to do with football or have even the slightest perception that some people earn their living - and then some - by kicking an inflated leather ball, 'processo' means one thing only: 'Il Processo del Luned', 'Monday's trial', one of the most extraordinary TV shows you'll ever see.
Now in its 21st year, it sprouted as a latter-day imitation of renowned sixties' show Processo alla tappa, a sort of mock trial to the events of each day's stage of cycling's Tour of Italy. Football being football, the new version quickly became a cult for the masses.
Imagine the ginger-haired host, Aldo Biscardi, whose heavy accent is the subject of countless jokes, starting a debate, surrounded by a plethora of sportswriters and flanked by the inevitable beauty whose task does not extend beyond reading from a scripted sheet.
It soon degenerates into a shouting match, with all the characters in place: the good cop/bad cop routine done by Biscardi and whoever is at hand that evening, the shouting matches between the Roman-based and the Milano-based journalists, the endless replays of controversial accidents in super slo-motion, the grotesque comments by guests, all with a background of laughing, joking and sneering studio audience.
Think of the oft-criticised ESPN show 'Around the Horn' and you will see how 'Il Processo di Biscardi' is above comparison: ATH host Max Kellerman presses the mute button when one of the guest sportwriters goes too far, while Biscardi has frequently been spotted motioning guests to join in an ongoing three-way 'conversation' and once famously told them 'Please do not speak more than two at a time', which really says everything you need to know about the show.
No one that I know admits to watching 'Il Processo' as a football talk show. Everyone says 'It's comedy in its highest form', but someone must have been watching it for it to last more than twenty years.
Me? I took a peek last week in order to confirm my suspicions, and it will be another twenty years before I do it again.
If I want to see screaming, irresponsible, feuding people clinging to every excuse in order to justify their childish behaviour and find alibis for their team's failure I need to look no further than everyday life, thanks.
