We are all preparing for the game Saturday, mentally working on the starting eleven, or actually preparing to be in the stands to watch the game live. Me, well I started wearing the Inter jerseys already. Working my way up to the most precious one for Saturday, the one with #4 on the back. I could write about my apprehension before the game, past derby d’Italia, the 3-5-1-1 etc. But I will go with a different outset, let me tell you a story about a little girl and her dad.
I have many things to be grateful to my dad for, I am tall, insanely stubborn, can drink like a man and I have the worst poker face ever. But the thing I will always carry with me is how he passed on his love of football to me. My most precious memories are of us sitting in the sofa, me holding my Barbie doll and watching the family religious event of the week, the Manchester United game. He taught me the off side rule using my dolls (renaming them to Beckenbauer, Pallister and Bruce) and a ball. I learned to love and appreciate defensive tactics thanks to VHS tapes where we watched the -74 world cup (Holland!) and we watched the beautiful style of play of der Kaiser more times than I can count rummaging through those tapes (yes, VHS I am that old people).
I had no choice I fell in love with the game of football even though I played basketball. And I supported United being daddy’s girl. But then one day I was watching a game by myself and it happened, I found my one true love that has been with me ever since. Some might call it an obsession, I call it passion. I found the nerazurri and it was love at first sight. Dad felt sorry for me when I told him I was an Inter fan telling me they never win, but he did get me a Bergomi jersey that I wore proudly at the playground. I would later on drive my basketball coach insane going to practice in football jersey’s . He tried stopping me saying we had to wear reversible shirts. I opted for a different solution, white Djorkaeff one and a dark Simeone jersey. Perfect.
Many things have changed in my life since then. I no longer play basketball, my Barbie dolls are long forgotten and I am definitely no longer in love with the guy who had the poor taste to run around in a Gullit Milan jersey. But one thing has remained with me, and that is the obsession that is Inter. It might not be healthy (if you ask my husband), but it is a part of who I am and I can’t wait to pass that insanity on to my baby girl.
And what about Saturday’s game then? Oh I will watch it, screaming at the TV as always. With my dad.
