To be honest, I feel numb now. Watching Italy winning the World Cup is like living in a dream. 16 years ago, football was everything for me, and when Argentina kicked us out in the semifinal I felt like something inside me was broken... it was one of the first steps in understanding that "Justice Is Not Of This World". From then on, I lived any European or World Cup with the inner certainty that an inevitable defeat, one way or another, would be dished to the Italian team.
But now, 23 players (and a cunning manager) succeeded in breaking that bad spell. They "unbottled" the joyous rage that was rotting inside me since 1990, and I felt the air fizzling with energy for one night.
But then the night passed, and a day, and another night; and now... now what? Everything else seems a bit pointless now, compared to Winning The World Cup and Putting 1990 Right. Also, my well-rehearsed "noir" pose, as the survivor of a thousand (lost) football battles, it's now left without any credibility...
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