Wrong to fire Mihajlovic in other times they would have protected him

Bologna, downloaded by the sports director Di Vaio. The technician: no to divorce by mutual consent

history

I never believed in the fabled narrative of the Mihajlovic story. I never believed it because: 1) he clung to the rhetoric of serious illness, that of battle, as if those who succumb had not fought enough. 2) I knew that at the right time, or very wrong, it would end up in the attic. I found the awarding of Nettuno D’Oro to the (former) rossoblù coach quite insipid, an honor that the Municipality reserves for its precluded citizens.

Saving Bologna, that derelict Bologna, from relegation, is equivalent for the writer to the discovery of the cure for Covid. But luckily I’m not the mayor. Furthermore, I have never liked the Serbian coach. For the friendly propensities never denied towards Željko Ražnatović, Commander Arkan, a Yugoslav war criminal. For the arrogance, although sometimes tinged with an uncommon irony, with which he has always treated the reporters. And almost anyone else. For the electoral campaign made in Mattro Salvini, a year and a half ago, in order to change the leadership of the Region whose health had saved his life.

Finally, the team I am cheering for was playing very badly and are really in danger of B.

Also for this reason, above all for this reason, what Bologna FC 1909 did seems to me an act of rare unpleasantness. For times, ways, consequences.

The times: Mihajlovic was kept at Bologna by popular acclaim, local and “foreign”, when leukemia seemed defeated and everyone was looking for a place in the fairy tale. In favor of the room. In the early evening. Kicking him after the heavy relapse means that that heralded solidarity was much easier than it was told. So rather hypocritical.

The ways: Mihajlovic refused a consensual separation. Once again demonstrating a shimmering dignity. He did it because whoever proposed it to him, Marco Di Vaio in the first place, had long ago downloaded it. A scapegoat was needed to be delivered to the patron Joey Saputo, the Canadian billionaire who in 8 years has spent a lot and collected little: never a Joey, they call him. The ds, whom Saputo brought, chose the most prostrate.

The consequences: practical, few. If Thiago Motta or whoever wins two games for him, everything will go to the cavalry. Even the fans had given up on the Serbian.

But … Nostalgia is always a bad advisor because, as the poet De Gregori warned, it turns the edges of memory into curves.

Nonetheless, I can’t help thinking that Bologna, the Bologna of some time ago, the self-proclaimed Isola Felice, the epicenter of a fairly real diversity, would have pushed to protect the weak, albeit unattractive. He would have sought, since sportsmen now travel to other heights, a primacy of humanity.

But yesterday a certain idea of ​​the city disappeared definitively, along with Mihajlovic’s bench (which probably disgusts her as well, this a posteriori solidarity). And of football. Feel-good, perhaps. But less pilates than this ugly one.

Buonvento, Sinisa. –

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