Since I was young, I've always been told that I'm fairly intense person. I can be a bit aggressive, a tad loud, and at times too much to handle - to say the least. Add on to this list that I am the most competitive person I know, and we can run into a few problems here and there. However, bring me to Italy and I blend like spots on a cheetah. Even their joking around at times is what Americans might consider violent.Bring me to a Fiorentina soccer game and I look tame...
From the train station, I took a five minute train to the outskirts of the city to the Fiorentina stadium. As usual, having no idea where we were going, Bre, Mackenzie, Maddie, and I walked around and tried to find some food and a drink. Mid search, I pause to take a picture of some architecture that I found interesting, and some snotty, little, Italian boy says to his friends, "What's she taking a picture of?" People like this have a tendency to irk me and since we've already established my confrontational qualities, we can all imagine my attitude towards this boy. Needless to say, the girls all went on about how they were going to have to watch me tonight and make sure I kept my mouth shut. (In truth, I know when to be quiet and when I'm able to run my mouth. The child that made that comment, was just that, a child of about 15. Clearly, I would have no problem taking him in a little verbal sparring.)
Without a scene, we carried on to the vendors parked outside the stadium. As we walk through, this man yells to us in Italian to have some food. While I'm explaining that Bre is a vegetarian, he hands Mackenzie what appears to be a fragment of an Italian version of a hamburger patty. She takes it and proceeds to roll it up to dispose of it. He continues his harassment in a slightly perverse jest telling her in Italian that "she's still a little girl, and when she grows up she'd eat meat." As I'm designated translator, here is when I fall to the ground laughing. Part of my laughing is because this guy is being such a typical Italian with the not-so-appropriate comments, but the major reason I find this so hysterical is because Mackenzie is 20 with the face of a teenager. While she's going to adore this quality in her old age, at the moment, having a "baby face" is not something she enjoys since she gets comments along those lines quite often. Regardless, I explain to the girls what is happening and then tell the vendor that she is 20 and so are the other girls. To which he responds, "No, bambini." I can't help myself, I cackle with laughter and force myself and the girls to walk away before he continues.
We stroll through checking out prices of food and drink, order a couple drinks and sandwiches, and sit down under the shade before the game. As soon as we finish and get up to go into the stadium, it starts to drizzle. Typical. We head into the sea of purple and proceed through the check-in. We show our ticket and our documentation (sidenote: the Italian government is really phenomenal with security and knowing the whereabouts of its country's visitors..), tell the guards we don't have lighters or water bottles, and proceed to go find our seats - not that I was planning on sitting.
We enter the stadium and it looks magnificent. We seemed to be situated in a sea of purple reaching up to the dark, cloudy sky placed on top of bright, green field. We look outside the stadium walls and all you see are massive mountains, cypress trees, and Spanish-tiled villas. All I could think was that this place was the true definition of "purple mountains majesty", American landscape has nothing on the most basic Italian panorama.
We bought the cheapest seats, so we were in the nose bleed section of the visitor's side. As we looked around, we realized that this really didn't matter. The whole side was still donned in purple paraphernalia. To top it off, there was a single section of about 100 people dressed in blue - Lazio's fans. Without exaggeration, they were blockaded into their section by plexiglass and riot guards in neon yellow. The guards clearly had a purpose as a fight almost broke out before the game even started!
I continue to people watch and without a brawl, the game begins. The girls are up in their seats and I stand with the rest of the jazzed up Italians. I really wasn't sure of how this was supposed to go, and never really watching a soccer game before, I chose to observe the crowd for the first half. They were much more entertaining than the actual soccer game. Chanting, singing, screaming, hand-gesturing, jumping, and of course cursing, this crowd was a blast to be a part of. Barely anyone sat and if they were sitting, they were sitting on railings or on top of chairs. In front of each section were a couple instigators who passionately stirred the crowd and got everyone out of their seats. All I could do was laugh, take pictures, and try to listen to the chants so I could join in.
Halftime rolled around and the girls came down to join me. When the second half started I felt comfortable enough in my understanding of the crowd and their customs to join right in. I climbed right on top of the railing and jumped right into the coordinated chaos that is Italian sporting events. Usually having to restrain myself and close my mouth, here my obnoxious, "poor sportsman-like" behavior is encouraged. For this, I couldn't be more appreciative. Every time the Fiorentina fans would antagonize the Lazio fans, I jumped right in with my screaming and singing. I knew a few of the chants and I gladly contributed my vocal chords to the crowd. I jumped right up on the chair for every bad move, and since it's perfectly acceptable and completely the norm, I let the team (that couldn't hear me) have it about their stupidity of not getting the ball in the goal. I feel the need to disclose here that I've never played soccer, nor do I have the capacity to play soccer professionally. But, I am beyond competitive, my team was losing, and they were making me angry. By the end of the game, my throat was sore, my feet ached, and I was smiling uncontrollably despite the disappointing loss.
It was definitely the best 17Euro I could have spent, and there's no way that this game was my last. I already have their schedule bookmarked on my computer. I mean, why would I pass up an opportunity to behave like the endearingly, psychotic sports fan that I am?
Now perhaps you can explain to your American brother why mom is a bit boisterous when attending his sports events in America. Perhaps Thomas will start accepting my obnoxious behavior, which I would refer to as an enthusiastic cheer!
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