Earlier this week, Siavoush Fallahi started his weekly editorial that will be published here at SempreInter.com every Wednesday. Now it’s my turn. My name is Hampus Kärki and I will publish my weekly chronicle here every Friday. Thank you for reading!
”Noi saremo qui, Nerazzurri”, that’s how it sounds. We follow you, Nerazzurri. That’s something I could write on my body with a rusty needle. I know that Inter are playing for me, and for you and for everybody willing to watch and devote their heart to the team. Therefore, I will torture myself a little bit and write a little story about why Inter stands by us. We support Inter, because Inter supports us.
A friend told me this story a while back, a story from when he grew up and went to elementary school. A Swedish school, where all the kids loved Zlatan Ibrahimovic. A trick that I found useful when I started working at a school later on.
“I don’t want to eat my broccoli!”
“I hear that Zlatan always eat loads of broccoli…”
Then you can watch the broccoli fly into the kids mouth faster than crashing aircraft.
Anyhow, In my friends class, there was one kid who’s team was Inter. A single little black and blue-dude in a big school with hundreds of kids supporting Barcelona, Real Madrid and in many cases AC Milan. Right there, he was to only kid wearing Inter-jerseys to school. This kid had it rough. As far as I understood, despicable living conditions at home. I’m guessing a mother that just lost herself to powerlessness and passivity. Maybe a violent father that wasn’t no longer allowed to be on school property? Maybe brothers already in care for criminal behavior. A little kid without parents who finds his role models in strong and vicious men like Rambo, 50 Cent or Agent 47 from the Hitman-games.
One day it all fell apart. The whole class got to see a violent wrestling match between this kid in a total meltdown and the whole staff at the school. I can’t imagine the feeling of seeing such a young person crying out that he does not want to live anymore. He does the best he can to harm himself, pounding his head against the hard concrete floor. He’s screaming at everybody. Explaining in specific detail, what types of fucking cunts they all were. I asked my friend what happen to this kind from his class. Nothing. Social services considered it all to be acceptable.
This is where Inter enters. Amongst absent fathers and 50 Cent, Inter comes into play. Inter is a positive force and that’s the whole point of Inter. That is the reason for football’s existence. Same goes for all sports and entertainment in general. Some choose music or movies, some choose both. It all results in some sort of escape route from reality for a brief moment. When it all falls down around you, along comes Sunday night and the only thing that matters for those ninety minutes are football. For an hour and a half, all the misery is put on hold and the only thing you care about is to see Diego Milito or anybody put the ball in the opponents damn net. It’s about dedication for a cause and finding something positive to stand for. That’s how I see Inter. When you don’t have anything to hold on to anymore, Inter will always be there.
This story is fictitious, but it’s not a lie. If it isn’t happening right now, it already has happened or will happen. This little kid has very few advantages in this life, but he has Inter. Inter plays for him. Inter plays for me and for you and for everybody who needs them. If you can’t relate to what I’m writing, I’m very sad to tell you, but one day you will. We all face hard times and obstacles in life and when it feels so hopeless and you just want to bang your head against the hard concrete floor, then eleven men dressed in black and blue steps on to the pitch. Led by Javier Zanetti, or whoever is captain that that time. Remember that they’re playing for you and they will always play for you.
