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I arrive at Flaminio at 3.10 p.m. There I should find the tram, which according to the instructions I received by e-mail should be reinforced, instead I have to wait 10 minutes for it. It is true that the instructions also said to arrive at least 45 minutes before kick-off (scheduled for 4 p.m.), a prescription that I did not respect, as I am used to thinking that the early arrivals suggested by the official instructions are always exaggerated, so they could tell me 'too bad for you'. I am not the only one, however: I arrive near the stadium at around 3.40 p.m., beginning to fear I might miss the start, and there are still quite a few people to enter.
At the first gate there are 4-5 people in line. The lady before me does not have her ID handy ameetnd it takes her a while to find it: the steward not only does not let those behind pass, but also gives directions to the colleague next to him. Once inside, we meet a group dressed in Celtic costumes: I wonder not only what they are doing here, being clearly neither Italian nor French, but also and above all how it is that a few minutes before the start they are standing quietly in the walkway. The second gate is passed quickly: there is no queue and the ticket is read immediately by the turnstile. Less than 10 minutes to go, however, and I still have to go to the toilet and take my seat. I waste some more time taking the wrong entrance: I enter on the lower level, whereas I should have gone upstairs. As I go up the stairs, the French anthem starts: you can hear it being sung very loudly.
My seat is in row 34, but luckily I don't have 34 steps to climb, but only 8: going up the stairs one starts at row 26. I am afraid to find it occupied, because there is not a free seat in sight, but then mine is. In the next block there are many French people: needless to say (but given the scenes we are used to, I will say it anyway) that there is no one to divide the two fan groups. In my block, on the other hand, they are all Italians. As soon as I took my seat, the Italian anthem starts, and the French one seemed to be sung loudly until I heard this one: truly deafening. I then noticed that at the top of Tribuna Tevere (mine) there was a band, which played Mameli's anthem and "O surdato 'nnammurato" several times during the match.
They start, and my first problem is to be sure I'm cheering for the right team (you know the colours are the same): I understand that Italy is in the white jersey, but I'm afraid I'm wrong. The first conversations among my neighbours confirm this. My neighbour in particular will comment on all the refereeing decisions, often complaining: I am absolutely unable to make a judgement, I believe that in the whole stadium few people are more incompetent than me, at least older than 10. Italy attacks to my side, so I think that in the first half I will have to be turned often, and at the beginning it is even better, because for the first 20 minutes I will have the sun on my face, then it will disappear behind Monte Mario.
After an initial timid attempt by Italy, France goes on the attack, and I wonder how long we will last at 0-0. In the 5th minute Italy regains the ball near its in-goal area: they struggle to get out to hand, so naively I wonder if it's not better to kick. We try: blocked kick and central try, 7-0. In the next attack we arrive close to the 22 metres and get a kick, which we transform 7-3. A ball is deflected as it's about to reach the French in-goal: a long discussion at the VAR and only after they've taken the kick (failing it) I realise that they've awarded the try:, 12-3. Shortly, another kick for us and another try for them: 19-6 and we're at the 27th minute.
It looks like a massacre: I wonder how many points against we'll get: 40? 50? more? Perhaps, however, the French consider the issue already closed and from now on the music changes: we finally manage to come forward and go in goal with the fullback Capuozzo, that someone of my neighbours presented as the best of the Italians and even to my layman's eyes it seemed so. At the end of the half we still find a kick: 19-14. We then arrive at half-time with a gap that in American football would be called 'one possession': the strength gap between the two teams seems enormous, but we are still in the game. I wonder how long it will last.
After a break where I don't remotely think about moving, and few do, we resume. France easily gets close to the goal, but then never manages to materialise, due to fouls or trivial errors: they only get a kick. On Italy's first attack an obstruction in the in-goal area causes a technical try (again after a long discussion at the VAR): 22-21. France continued to make mistakes, so much so that I begin to hope for an overtake, which comes with a kick in the 22nd minute. The clock is ticking and we are still ahead: I begin to hope I am witnessing a historic feat, in my first Six Nations match (so far I had only seen one high-level rugby match, an Italy-Romania at San Siro around 1990, won by the Romanians). In the 27th minute, however, the French manage to score: great jubilation from their fans, while the scorer kicks the ball into the stands.
It's not over, however: we go back into attack and in the 31st minute we earn a kick, from a similar position to the first one we had scored. My neighbour argues that we should kick at the lineout to go for a try, because we would hardly have another chance, most are instead for kicking at goal: in 9 minutes we could have another kick to take the lead. I too, following the logic of American football, am of this opinion. We kick at goal, and miss. It seems to be over, instead we go back into attack and in the final we get two more kicks, so with hindsight the decision to kick at goal would have been right, if we had scored. At this point, however, we have to kick a lineout: we get 3-4 metres from the goal, but then we lose the ball and the match ends.
We leave congratulating the French. Most are thinking about the journey ahead of them, since few are from Rome. I think it was very similar to the last time I was at the Olimpico, for Lazio-Monza: I came thinking that it would be a massacre for my team and that every minute at 0-0 would have been so much to gain, I leave with a bitter taste in my mouth thinking that we could have achieved a result.
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