The end. After two weeks of Olympic intoxication, this morning on TV there were images of the athletes leaving Paris and, on Raisport2, there were reruns of a cycling race from a few months ago. How sad. And now what do we do? There are no more of the much-discussed races in the Seine, there are no more 400 heats, there is no more volleyball, water polo, there is no more archery, rifle shooting or the magic track of Elia Viviani and Simone Consonni. It’s really over. And for sports addicts it’s a real withdrawal crisis. We’ll miss the receptions of captain Anna Danesithe raises of Alessia Orru the inscrutable faces of Julio Velasco And Lollo Bernardi. We will miss the chaos of fencing, the thrusts, the shouts, the complaints, the tense faces of Philip Macchi and the desperate one of Arianna Errigo. The adrenaline of cycling with the double of Remco Evenepoelwith the silver of Philip Ganna, with gold on the track Chiara Consonni And Victoria GuazziniWe will miss tennis Sara Errani, Jasmine Paolini and Lorenzo Musetti the plates shattered by Diana Bacosi and Gabriele Rossetti. We will miss the adrenaline rush of 100 meters Marcel Jacobs, the wonder of a relay that remains just a few hundredths away from the bronze and we will miss the masterpiece on the ten thousand meters Nadia Battocletti. But we will miss everyone a little, Luigi Samele, Thomas Ceccon , Gregorio Paltrinieri, Nicolò Martimenghi, Alberta Santuccio, Rossella Fiamingo, Giulia Rizzi and Mara Navarria And we will also miss the voices, that of Frank Bragagna which is an added value of athletics and those of Thomas Mecarozzi and of Luke Sacchi which are the same thing for swimming. We will miss the polite irony of Jacopo Volpi, by Juri Chechi, Andrea Lucchetta and Stefano Pantano as well as the elegance of Simona Rolandi. We will miss a bit of everything and in fact from today it will be hard. From today with the remote control we will navigate by sight in a sea of ​​melancholy. All we have left is the Sky press review, “Uno mattina estate” or “La vita in diretta” in the early afternoon. Or August football. The usual, useless August football even on the first Sunday of the championship. That of the unmissable challenges, of the Berlusconi trophy between Milan and Monza, of Napoli-Modena and Torino-Cosenza with half-deserted stadiums and TV coverage not even in the second Romanian series, without taking anything away from the Romanian championships. That of the first denied penalties, of the millimetre-wide offsides, of the tanned and tattooed strikers who take off their shirts under the curve. That of the controversies with the coach, of the mixed zones and of the silences of the press. That of the market “bombs” and of the first 40 pages of the sports newspapers that go off to chase a football that seems light years away from the emotion of the Games. It’s a sad Monday where everything has unfortunately already returned to normal…