I get up one morning and, you know me, I take Gazetta dello Sport, to see how goes Il calcio after the Bosman sentence, which represents such a situation that you can't even begin to understand what will happen to this much cherished game. And lo and behold, what do I see on the second page? Febbraio 2 (February 2, in free translation): TORINO – Gianluca Vialli, assieme a su fidanzata, entra al Teatro Regio. I rub my eyes, and think hard: there can't have been a revolution, for they would have announced it in time on TG1. Carnival? It doesn't begin until 9 February. And then, as that joke says "Njet freedom! Karnaval!" I take one more look. It is Vialli, all right! His pate shaved, no hat, specs on (and they say specs photograph well!) only that instead of the bianconero T-shirt he is wearing evening dress, also bianconero, that's true. Well, I say, this is a great mystery, I don't seem to be able to unravel it. Can it be just a machination, to intimidate the undecided? I fret and fret until the coffee break when I meet Luca. Not the evangelist, man, Luca, a guy I know, an engineer, a doctor in structures, a good guy, married, and a supporter of Milan. "Fratello," I say, "I hear Vialli went to the theater! What's this all about?" "Yeah," he says, "these Juventus guys act up a lot." "Say," I suggest, "could be the man likes the theater. Or the girl told him: 'Take me to the theater, sugardad, pretty please!' And how to refuse her?" "How can he like the theater? Tell me? Is that something to like?" "Why not? Don't you go to the theater?" "Sure. I was once, in school. They wanted us to see it on the inside. But I studied in Rome.""Anyway, I think Milan too must have theaters.""Well, Milan's a big city. There are all sorts of things. Could be theaters, too, I'm not sure. Anyway, we have the Opera.""Oh! And you do go to the Opera, don't you? To the Scala?""You think I'm nuts? My wife wanted to go once when I had bought her a new fur, so she could show off downtown, but I wouldn't hear. Imagine, 150,000 Lire a ticket. And she wanted to take along her mother, her sister and the kids. I told her for all that money I could buy her another fur coat.""Why don't you go at least once? Look, we go together.""You won't catch me at any of these shows for snobs. If you want a spectacle let's go to a football match, a popular show for working people who want to relax.""Strange, man. You have great authors. Like Pirandello!""Judging by the name this guy must be from the South. He must have played with Napoli or Bari, and now he passes as an author.""No. He was an author all right. He wrote plays.""Yeah. These guys in the South would do anything, write plays, anything, as long as you don't make them work. You know what we need?""Tyranny like in Russia!""That too. I haven't thought about it. We need federalism.""What has federalism to do with Pirandello's plays, with 'Clad the Naked?'""I told you. This is politics. It all comes from Rome. We break our back working and they clad the naked using our money. All those Albanians and the likes! The Juventus guys can go to the theater if they feel like it, we Lombardy people are more poised!""Well, we, the Easterners, go to the theater." "That's why you don't make any progress. See, you've been keeping me talking for ten minutes instead of going back to work. Basta! Salve, bon lavoro!"Now that made me wonder. Luca is a great guy. He has never touched liquor or smoked, has never gone to the theater, and owns a new Ford Fiesta, a marvel. I, even if I renounce all this, I still won't save the money for a Fiat Uno. So I'd better write a play, like Pirandelllo, called "The Giant of the Mountains", and like the title says it will show, naturally, the life of Alberto Tomba. I'll invite Giovanna and Gianluca Vialli to the premiere. After all, they have enough money to afford it, even if the premiere will be at Tecuci.[1] Said and done. I write the play and when I go back home I start approaching the theaters to see if I can have my play staged. And you know what? Tough luck! By the time I have finished writing the play and found the theater to stage it, Vialli left Juventus and went as far as England. And there they have enough theater. You think he'll need come to my play?
[1] Small Romanian town.
by Horia Gârbea (b. 1962)
