From the outside, it almost seems like a story from the theater of the absurd. Instead, in Florencethey are realizing that it is all damned real. Their team, led by Giovanni Trapattoni, caresses the impenetrable dream of fighting for the championship. It doesn’t happen often around here and, when it does, it is an objective that deserves to be defended by holding on to a bunch of factors. In no particular order, courage, technique, a ferocious will, the compactness of the group come into play. Outside it is a freezing day of February 1999the seven, but inside those who support Viola are boiling.
Initially enthusiastic, because by prevailing over Milan, at Franchi, another brick would be placed towards the construction of the goal. However, when the top scorer, Gabriel Omar Batistutaends up getting hurt, from the stands there are groans of dismay. In the meantime the match ends in a draw. 0-0. What now? The supporters of the lily ask themselves, bewildered. What will become of us without our cardinal point? Of course they don’t say it exactly like that, also because we are in Tuscany, where the gradation of the curse takes on unthinkable forms for the man in the street.
But hold on, everyone. Nothing is really lost. There is always Oh Animal. There’s always Edmundo. Sigh of relief. That’s it. That’s who can get a team out of trouble, a team that, deprived of its brightest element, needs to recognize itself in the voice of another leader. Also because the whimsical Carioca has the charisma required by the enterprise. The solution to the Viola’s worries is in his boots. So there’s no need to worry too much. Batigol will be back and in the meantime Edmundo will take care of it. All solved, then? Not a chance.
Because in the striker’s contract there is a clause. He agreed to come to Florence on the condition that the owner Vittorio Cecchi Gori frees him for a week’s vacation. When? In conjunction with the Rio de Janeiro Carnivalof course. The event seduces Brazilians by scratching very deep chords. In February, the month of the great celebration, everything is an inner chirping. Away with laxity and sloppiness, then. Let’s allow ourselves to be assailed by laziness and sink into the tribal rhythms of the dances and among the gaudy costumes. Yeah, okay, it’s impossible that he’ll really go awaythe fans always say. Imagine if he exercises the clause and leaves us here, without him or Bati, while we are in the middle of a fight for an epochal title..
Only Edmundo really shrugs his shoulders. While his Argentine teammate undergoes instrumental tests, he he boards the first available flight. A question of priorities. Never mind the Scudetto, let’s have some dancing, drinking and smiles. Fiorentina? Come on, they’ll get out of this somehow. Now let me dance. People are frozen. How could they have dealt such a low blow to the city? In the meantime, the team, decapitated by its attack, goes to Udine and loses. From there, a progressive dilution begins. The Scudetto hopes are watered down. Edmundo will return after his wicked loafing, but it will already be too late.
The title slips away and the Viola comes third. The friction with Florence becomes irreparable. He who could have been its sovereign, is now banished. He will return to his homeland, to Vasco da Gama, where he came from. An unforgivable deserter.
He recently returned to the city, welcomed by the mayor Sara Funaro. After 25 years that resentment seems to have faded. He declared that, if he went back, he would never leave. But history doesn’t care about conditionals.