We get involved with Sport, its players with their exploits, not just for boredom, not only for conformism, but because Sport is a concentrate of both innocent and sassy feelings, a mix of desires and hopes, illusions and delusions.
Sport is, all in all, also history, but that one sculpted by our emotions. Those that make us jumping on the sofa, that make us screaming against the television, dancing with strangers, toasting with foreigners, those that leave us exhausted and moved.
(I know you might reach the same effects with either alcohol or weeds, but Sport on TV sounds much healthier).
I am easy to emotions, but a sports triumph or a disappointment hardly get me moved.
But once it happened to me. No, it was not after the victory of the World Cup in 2006 although it was a great party, full of fun and madness. You better not waste tears for the beasts like Materazzi.
In 2000 in Suzuka Michael Schumacher brought Ferrari the world title after more than twenty years of fasting. I was a fat teenager, sitting in front of the TV at six o’clock in the morning. Michael Schumacher was painting the trajectories raising his legend, and I was there. Good smack, that one. I wept like a fountain (or like an idiot, like a girl, you may delight yourself with a lot of comparisons). Had I known Michael the Great was going to reign undisturbed for the following four years, perhaps I would have kept more composure.
But yes, who ever cares. My tears have accompanied Schumacher who wrote history, which is also mine a bit. (Sounds like a predation. Italian job always leads to big plunders).
Sport is also fable, imagination that exceeds reality. And, talking about overtaking, King Michael know perfectly how to go about it. So, he is back. In Ferrari. Schumacher.
However, you may already listen to the owls: this move is just marketing, he’s done it for money. And certainly this Ferrari looks more like a truck car. I bet a Fiat Punto would have better chances to win something.
But yes, who ever cares. You cannot get your childhood back, they say. Nor you cannot get your youth back, we’ve been told. You may not have your virginity back, unless you enjoy a considerable income. Nevertheless you can for real have Michael Schumacher at the wheel of Ferrari once again.
See you in front of the TV. Who knows, perhaps you will find me in tears jumping on the sofa (I’m anyway much thinner now, so I guess the sofa shouldn’t get damaged). Meanwhile la Rossa writes more pages of that jistory, which is also mine a bit.
There are Countries, in the World, there is nothing to say about, being difficult even finding some triviality to comment on.
If you were already turning up your nose, then I’ll challenge you! Let’s list three distinguishing characteristics of the following Nations: New Zealand, Slovak Republic, South Korea
So, some of you have surely thought about the “Lord of the Rings”, while all the others remained silent, right? This is just the way it is: many places are not so popular.
This is not the case with Italy. My country is among the most widely discussed, criticized, mocked and stigmatized, but at the same time envied, praised, hankered, and loved on all over the planet.
Few lands in the world arouse a similar avalanche of contrasting emotions, and have the same ability to be either love or despised so strongly.
Italy has beauty, history, and a galaxy of unique features both wonderful and tragic.
And what about the Italians?
Italians are those individuals who, because of either fate or choice or a mere damn luck, have to carry the weight of these beauty, history, features, wonder and tragedy.
Since ages they have always been put through clichés and prejudices, the most cruel and funny ones, like perhaps no other people on Earth.
Hence, I’m now addressing to foreigners: when someone shakes your hand and says: – “I’m Italian” – an universe opens in front of you, which can be filled with all the prejudices, the superstitions and beliefs you may have heard about the strange men and women from the Boot
(On the other hand, I’d expect from you a blank look if somebody would say: – “I’m from New Zealand, or Slovak Republic, or South-Korea” -).
The raising question is: what is true and what is false about stereotypes? Are they reliable, can you trust them, or they are merely urban legends without foundation?
This post is a short outlook on some of the most common stereotypes associated with Italians.
Five are discussed below as those that, in my humble opinion, are very close to the truth.
Nevertheless, I do hope to be able to write the same post about the Americans.
All in all, it’s less than one month before going to Richmond
Stereotipo: ITALIANS EAT TONS OF PASTA EVERYDAY
TRUTH: 70%
Bigoli, typical egg-made pasta from the Region of Veneto
For those allergic to the gluten, Italy might be a harsh Country to live in.
Something that truly breaks Italians’ heart when they are abroad, especially those ones not used to travel, is abstinence from pasta.
The pasta in Italy is a daily ritual of life, it means art, culture and tradition. The grannies who wake up early in the morning to prepare the home-made pasta fresca, between clouds of flour and turning the rolling the pin all around, do really exist.
What in truth many foreigners cannot get is that “pasta” doesn’t mean merely “spaghetti” and “tortellini”. There are hundreds of regional specialties and an enormous amount of seasonings to try with. The possibilities for varying your flavour are (almost) infinite, and all of them are so unique and delicious.
It’s hard to get tired, unfair to blame us. Rather, envy our grannies.
STEREOTYPE: THE MOST WIDESPREAD RELIGION IN ITALY IS SOCCER
TRUTH: 90%
The triumph in the World Cup on the 9th of July 2006 was not the biggest thrill of my “sporting” life. Schumacher and Raikkonen’s Ferrari gave me many more stronger ones.
But I’m gonna remember that night my whole life. Because it was an explosion of collective joy, irrepressible, unstoppable, never seen before in my Country. A raving and frenzied celebration, in which truly all the people run down the street to celebrate and dance crazily until dawn. An orgy of collective bodies hugging, singing, and rolling together. Amazing.
It really goes this way: Italians are not Catholic (if some claim he/she is, often behaves hypocritically). The true Faith is soccer.
Unsurprisingly, over 70% of Italians declare to be supporters of some soccer club.
The victory in the World Cup has been the most remarkable expression of homeland pride and national unity since… the victory in the World Cup of 1982.
I played my part too. My time of maximum football fervor exploded during the World Cup USA 1994. The one we lost in the final after penalties, against Brazil. And I’m somehow truly convinced it’s better to loose with Men such like Roberto Baggio than winning with beasts such like Materazzi.
In this video a glimpse of Naples in the night of the World Cup’s victory. (I’ve chosen on purpose the most passionate of Italy!).
STEREOTYPE: AN AVERAGE ITALIAN’S CONVERSATION CONSISTS ROUGHLY OF 8 WORDS AND 30 GESTURES
TRUTH: 70%
Ours is the show of a body that speaks, vibrates, throbs, moves feverish. Stretching hands and arms keeping on twisting. Passionate and theatrical: those Italians who are prey of a strong emotion, either joy or anger, are unable to refrain, exploding in a gesture that probably has no parallels in the world
Just try to stop and ask for a direction. My Country-fellow will accompany the information at least with large gestures of the arm.
The reason for such a peculiar way of communicating may have different explanations. Such like the fact we are “Mediterraneans”, sensitive, impressionable and excitable.
Maybe. But I do prefer another one.
Italy is a Promise Land for artists, inventors, painters, sculptors, architects. In one single word: makers. We are creators and manipulators of the surrounding reality, with our hands, with our sweat. Hence, the need to express ourselves as if we really wanted to grasp and disrupt the real world.
However, does an Italian body-language really exist?
In the very rare clip below, excerpted from an Erasmus in Finland, Berkley’s Professor Matteo Brunelli is teaching a foreign audience. (You can skip the final par showing a Mexican girl trying to speak Finnish)
STEREOTYPE: ITALIANS LOOK LIKE HAVING MEMORIZED SEVERAL FASHION CATALOGUES
TRUTH: 80%
Italian Fashion
Italians, especially the Italian girls, are extremely fashionable. Style, neatness , elegance. Plus, also and above all, brand.
You won’t see us with a single messed hair, any clashing nuance, or any slovenly detail. Just go to the main squares of the city-centres on Saturday afternoon or to the clubs on Friday night, but even go to the libraries and to many university faculties: you’ll notice plenty of boys and girls who look like on-sale products of the star system.
Here the care of your appearance is meticulous, but at the same time effortless and spontaneous. We do that with great naturalness. In very truth, it is far less morbid and manic than it might seem.
The Italians hold the unshakeable conviction of being the most stylish people of the whole Universe. Nevertheless, the examples given by tourists and foreign travelers have contributed, year after year, to remove all doubts about it: the flighty combinations of colors worn by the Brits, or the white socks on Germans’ feet (now the Czechs’) have left unforgettable memories you may still hear about.
So much love for him/herself, however, can sometimes be a little odd, especially concerning guys. An Austrian girl once told me: – “Italian guys are very good-looking. Such a pity they all look like a bit gay” -.
And then, unfortunately, there is the tamarro. An weird creature, widespread in the cities of central-south and in the northern countryside. You may be able to recognize it immediately, since it looks like escaped from a zoo or, at worst, from a lunatic asylum (where there were still asylums).
The tamarro has no elegance, neatness or style. But, alas, in an attempt to acquire them, it stuffs him/herself with fashion brands without any rational logic. The tamarro’s typical look, besides a disturbing hairdo and an overdose of sun-lamps, consists of a belt with the huge D&G brand well shown up, Rich jeans worn to the knees, massive sunglasses covering all the face. Often you may see some abnormal piercing or some tribal or gothic tattoo (although the tamarro has no clue of what means “tribal” or “gothic”).
It’s not been yet discovered yet what a tamarro eats, but scientific studies have proved it is absolutely harmless to humans. (Referring to the previous topic, a conversation of a tamarro is made of 1 grunt and 3 mimic or gestures).
STEREOTYPE: IN MAMMA WE TRUST
TRUTH: 100%
Mamma's Love
Italy is not a land of poets, saints, sailors, and Berlusconists. Italy is a Country of mums, and sons/daughters of mamma.
Let’s consider a manager who returns in his/her hotel-room after a business meeting, a student who goes back to his/her flat after an exam, or a soccer-player who leaves the stadium after a match, or even a Mafia’s hitmen who runs back to his hiding place after committing his crime. All these characters have something in common: while I’m writing, they are, all of them, calling mamma at home.
The Mother is the pillar of Italian society, the backbone, the Northern Star. The strength of the relationship mother-son/daughter cannot be detected anywhere else in the world.
She is an immanent presence, permanent and transcendent. Even when, apparently, she’s not around you can feel her watching you. Because she is thinking about you, dreaming of you, she’s talking about you with other people. You definitely feel her gaze on you.
One of the phrases that you may often hear by Italians, especially in sinful situation, is: – “If my mum could see me right now!” -. That is: get angry, Guardian Angel. But, please, don’t tell mum.
And it’s true that, in some way, Italian kids’ childhood is extended indefinitely. Every time going back home, they will find their favorite dish, the shirt ironed, the bed tidied up with clean sheets.
Therefore, I feel forced to say again what I claimed before: it’s hard to get tired, it’s difficult to blame us. Rather, envy our mums.
Nevertheless, so much love might lead to objectively questionable behaviors. Only in Italy, mamma buys the underwear for her teenage sons.
