was three hundred were young and strong ... We saw them, the camera lingered on their beautiful chests tattooed, regardless of temperature (certainly because of the high rate of alcohol) . In just over three hundred have decided that the show should not be there. That their decision should prevail over that of thousands of other civilians, viewers who decide to bear the costs, who packed the stands to watch the national team perform, after years in that Marassi di Genova (to be precise Galileo Ferraris Stadium) . There. The evening meeting is was, at times, a film by Bunuel.
Now only one question, but what the hell were the entrance gates? Stages are not frequently used, much less on the curve: I was enough of a friendly magic Rome, seen in South Bend at the Olimpico with my eleven year old daughter. I think I have already given. But to entry to hordes of rowdy when one fills the mouth piece of the fan, and accurate information, searches, have a meaning? Last night had to be all butterflies. Entered the stadium of everything. Judging by the owner fireworks, stuff the envy of Mergellina.
UEFA elephantine one of these institutions, led by someone who knows such as the one who drove out (and still driving, it seems) the powerful federation that governs another frenzy of mass such as Formula One, pinched in skimpy clothes while you whip was by comely maidens donning Nazi uniforms ... come on! UEFA pontificherà now. Gonzo as they are, and so impervious to their own rules, it will also be able to repeat the game even give all'incolpevole Italy (except for some lapses or underestimates the danger Horde Serbian) due conviction, giving the victory to table "Italy.
A bad figure. Among the disaster, to record the sense of the police: aware of or have an eye on the cameras, or riotous to take another controversial figure such as that kept by that city in quite different circumstances ... the fact is that they have avoided the butcher, perhaps involving other fans Serbs who do not provide the excesses as they register to follow a simple game of football.
The paroxysm is on stage. Last night, as thousands of other viewers unlucky, I would see the acrobatics of Cassano, but I saw those commentators that within less than an hour gave the best of them, to justify (I imagine) the hefty salaries that commentators perceive as exhibiting, at one stroke all the best ineptitude. I do not like
dire predictions. After Genoa, after the 'Heysel, expect the worst.
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