When thick yellow-red smoke rises to the sky from the Tevere Tribuna, the minds of many – including photo-enthusiasts and fans now over forty – turn to another semi-final. That of the 1990/1991 UEFA Cup, against Brøndby. One of the most iconic evenings in Roma history, sealed by the incredible roar with which, in the 87th minute, theOlympic he celebrated Voeller’s 2-1, which pushed his team into the final – then lost – against Inter. The smoke bombs lit on that 24th April thirty-three years ago were countless between the curve and the stands and managed to produce a majestic effect. As only pyrotechnics can do. Initially I don’t even pay too much attention to it, believing it to be the “usual” switching on here and there, only to then notice the synchrony with which they slowly cover the entire sector. Nobody holds it against me, not even the guys who at the same time organized and exhibited the scenography in the South. But torches and smoke bombs always have a particular charm. The charm of the forbidden regardless. But also that of the wild and primordial folklore with which the first Curvaiole generations began to occupy the popular sectors and revolutionize the way, at the end of the sixties, of going to the stadium. Furthermore, today, being able to produce similar performances in Serie A stadiums is not at all easy and involves tangible risks, which in their maximum expression can turn into Daspo, criminal complaints and very high fines.
Roma-Bayer Leverkusen is played and almost everyone’s mind goes back to the same semi-final from a year ago. Sweet memories of a match which, thanks to Bove’s goal, took the Giallorossi to the final in Budapest. I remember that someone uses it as an amulet, while others – the more realistic – know that this year there will be even more to sell one’s life dearly against a team undefeated precisely since that match inOlympic and fresh champion of Germany for the first time. A battleship, obviously heading straight for theEuropa League to close your year of grace perfectly. The last obstacle is, precisely, Rome. A Rome that with its people experiences this competition as the dream to be realized, the ghost to be chased away once and for all, the goal seen slipping away a few centimeters from the finish line twice. Occasions that only made the 1984 European Cup defeat against Liverpool even bloodier. Ultimately, only the latter can understand and “justify” the relationship between Europe and the Romanists. A love that quickly becomes hatred and disappointment and that forges generations in the name of defeats and tears, which nevertheless strengthen faith. Perhaps there will no longer be that ancestral faith of the eighties and nineties, that aura of magic given by having almost only football and one’s belonging, outside of the daily routine. A faith that for entire generations has also represented the way of putting aside, perhaps for just ninety minutes, the bitterness of life. No, perhaps that feeling of emptiness beyond Roma can no longer exist due to mere social factors, yet even in the boys at their first matches, even in their eyes, there is the purity of those who still recognize stadium life as a glue tribal, almost “supernatural”.
When the two teams emerge from the changing rooms, the choreography is composedwhich with different cards forms the writing Let’s move forward. The rest of the stadium is colored with scarves to the tune of “Roma, Roma, Roma”, while several smoke bombs are also lit in the North, with the wall on the guest sector side the undisputed protagonist. I want to underline how having scattered more or less large contingents but with a clear ultras style in three out of four sectors of the stadium is producing a truly remarkable effect, stimulating even the notoriously quieter public to shake, make noise and participate in the cheering. Each with their own peculiarities, each with their own way of being and each with their own reasons for occupying their own place, but all with the ultimate aim of making themselves heard and blowing the ball in support of the Capitoline association.
In the away section, on the other hand, around 1,500 Leverkusen fans take their seats, inexplicably a little less than last year. I confirm the opinion given on previous occasions about them: it is undeniable that in the last fifteen years they have really grown a lot, becoming a good reality in terms of support, perhaps still underestimated and seen with prejudice as “Cinderella” in the Teutonic ultras movement. The only thing I really have to complain about is the excessive “education” highlighted every time I saw them at work. Little – if not zero – aggression and desire to annoy the opposing public. Even if during the match a couple of chants against Roma will be heard. Of note, among their ranks, is the presence of the boys from Offenbach.
The atmosphere this evening will be very linked to the progress of the result, but this time I really don’t feel like throwing the cross on someone. The stakes are too important, the disappointment that ensues after the mistake with which Karsdorp allows the Germans to take the lead is too great, inevitably directing the match against an opponent who is already stronger than him. The Curve tries to shake itself and shake up the environment. At times he succeeds, in an attempt to instill strength and security in a Roma team that tonight will be a mix of bad luck, tiredness and collective errors. In the second half the Germans found the 0-2 with an anthology goal from Andrich. A network that makes it really difficult to return to BayArena and which allows aspirins to see the Dublin final close. Obviously the Giallorossi public doesn’t just watch the performance of the opposite team, but shows their pride and shows off a scarf to the anthem, which is sung by practically the entire stadium. It is the pride of those who know that, in all likelihood, the dream is fading again, but the passion and faith are not. Those will remain unshakable, despite everything. And they pervade the heart and soul exactly as the smoke from the Tiber initially pervaded the lungs of all those present. A smoke that left the smell on jackets and shirts and that brings with it the sense of belonging of those who are already ready to leave for Leverkusen, even more convinced than before. Because, ultimately, it should never be forgotten that the fan, the ultra, sees himself in these circumstances. When he takes on the wild and free appearance of a smoke bomb and his freedom in being.
Simone Meloni
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