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My Olympics
were supposed to begin yesterday with the opening ceremony: I was so excited to
have got a ticket (later I realized it wasn’t that hard…), and I wondered if
I’d ever get another chance. Instead, a car breakdown on my way from Rome
forced me to watch it on TV (with the horrible Italian TV commentary…). I left again
by train, but it wastoo late. At least I had spent “only” 260 euros: the Australian I met in Paris had
it much worse.
My first
experience, then, became the USA–Finland women’s ice hockey match, which took
on much more importance than I initially thought. The excitement was
overwhelming: coming out of the metro and seeing the Olympic symbols and the
first security check left me breathless. As I mentioned, at the exit of the
metro and the entrance to the fair area, there was an initial security check,
without ticket checks. They invited everyone to empty their pockets and put
everything into their backpacks to make things quicker: I hadn’t brought a
backpack because I wanted to see what the policies were, as mine was a bit on
the edge of the allowed size, but I saw people with even larger backpacks. To
avoid emptying my pockets, I took off my coat—it was warm anyway.
You go up,
and to reach the arena, at the far end of the fair, there’s a walkway just over
1 km long: there are threadmills, but not all of them work. On the way,
besides Americans and Finns, I meet two athletes from Kazakhstan (or, as they
write, Qazaqstan) and a group in Czech uniforms. Halfway there is an official store: I try to go in
but immediately give up—too crowded. There’s another security check, especially
for backpacks, and then you reach a fork: left to the speed skating arena,
where a race very important for Italy has already been running for 10 minutes;
right to the hockey arena. Manual ticket check (despite recommendations, no one
checks IDs), down the stairs and you’re in: the ticket said “east entrance,”
but in reality there’s only one entrance.
I’m still
quite early, so before taking my seat, I check out the food stands: on my side
there are two food stalls serving sandwiches and piadine, and a Corona beer
stand. I enter with just under 20 minutes to go before the start: there are
still plenty of empty seats, but before the match begins it will fill up, and
only a couple of blocks will remain quite empty; mine will be almost
completely full. Next to me is a group speaking English: at first I think
they’re Americans, but during the match I realize they’re not. In the row in
front, some Americans with team shirts; three rows ahead, two Canadians. Many
wear NHL jerseys. The announcer asks who’s for the USA and who’s for Finland,
and the latter receives far more applause, apparently thanks to both Finns and
“neutrals.” He asks in English, like all pre-game announcements: only during
the game does he sometimes announce in Italian.
The game
begins: from my side, the Finns should be attacking, but in reality, they reach
the attack zone for the first time after 4 minutes. After 5 minutes and a bit,
during the Americans’ first power play (not converted), I decide to use the
binoculars, but even with them, it’s hard to see what’s happening before the Finnish net. It’s a siege, but the Nordic team resists: the goal arrives
only after 15 minutes, in the second power play. The first period ends with 14
shots on goal to 3 for the Americans, but still just 1–0.
During the
first interval, a QR code appears on the scoreboard for entering a contest, but
it’s too far away—even at maximum zoom, you can’t scan it (people around me
have the same problem). I go to the Corona stand, and while queuing, I read
about Lollobrigida’s gold medal. I’d heard the bartender speaking Italian with
colleagues, yet she insisted on speaking to me in English—even though I replied
in Italian.
The match
resumes with the Americans attacking from my side, and I’m torn between wanting
to see the Finns come back and wanting to see more action. I know the latter is
more likely, and in fact, it happens: I watch the USA score two goals in just
over a minute—the first a volley, the second an individual effort (there’s no
assist). I also see the fourth goal well, halfway through the period, during a
power play, with a shot that bounces off the goalie. During these stages, the
US fans make themselves heard much more; in the latter half, the European
supporters try to rally—first the Finns, then the neutrals (distinguishable
because the former shout “Suomi”, the latter “Finland”).
distinguono perché i primi gridano "Suomi", i secondi "Finland").
In the
second interval, I think I’ll step out for a bit (meaning just from the stands,
not from the building) to go to the bathroom, then pause to check
updates—Olympics and other sports—and end up outside almost the entire time. In
the third period, not much happens: the Americans relax a bit, but score
another goal with 4 minutes to go. In the end, the Finns try an all-out attack
with the empty net but can’t score, not even so. It ends 5–0, with 49 shots on goal to
11 and 6 Finnish penalties versus none for the USA.
On the way
back to the metro, at the checkpoints, I meet some people heading to the next
match, Switzerland–Canada, which starts in almost 2 hours, at 21:10. Mostly
Swiss. I return feeling like I went to the wrong arena, but tomorrow I can take my revenge with the men’s 5000-meter speed skating.
