Came to Seattle for the first time a few months ago. The Indian boys I played with asked me what games I usually watch. I answered Serie A (Serie A), and the other side was slightly taken aback, obviously not knowing what it was. I add a sentence explaining "Italian Football League". He asked back, why do you watch Serie A? This time it was my turn to be speechless. I was never ready to answer such a question, even though I knew there were Premier League supporters everywhere, the world is used to talking about Real Madrid, Barcelona, Messi and Ronaldo.
yeah why? Probably a habit. Even with a few interruptions during school, every few years. But whenever I pick up the habit of watching football, I still unconsciously choose to watch Serie A games, the Italian national team's games. My thoughts drifted to the long past.
A vague picture emerges in my mind: the hot rose bowl in 1994, a blue No. 10 back; the yellowed page of "Football Club", "Prince walks the world with swords"; 2004, San Siro Stadium, Maldini hugged the man with the ponytail and grey hair.
After a few seconds, as if searching for a little memory, I said, "My favorite player, who used to play in Serie A, his name is Baggio, Roberto Baggio." The other side looked blank. I looked at him with a smile, maybe, I was just answering myself.
I don't have an idol. But when I was young, like countless others my age, I had one idol, one and only one - Baggio. When I came into contact with Baggio, it was no longer his golden age. But I still laugh for him and cry for him. I know too much about his deeds, and I know his story like the back of the hand. I have read his autobiography and biography, and I have seen various reports and videos.
So, when I see such a documentary, I cannot make an objective evaluation. Like many Baggio stories, it may have added some new sources to my cognition of Baggio, but I can't treat and evaluate it as a film and television work.
There is one thing that lasts longer than tobacco addiction, is more violent than alcohol addiction, and is more deadly than drug addiction, and it is called "habit." For me, Baggio is no longer a heart-wrenching sadness or an unreserved pursuit. It slowly penetrated into my body and into my blood. Day after day, year after year, I forgot why I couldn't let go, the boot-shaped country on the northern shore of the Mediterranean, and the football there.
Half of my t-shirts are Italian-themed, and I crowdfunded a stake in Parma when it went bust. I never felt a passion in making these decisions, just, a habit.
View more about Baggio: The Divine Ponytail reviews
