Depending on when you’re reading this, it may or may not be June 14. If it is June 14, that would make it two years since the start of the 2018 World Cup in Russia. It would also be two years until the next World Cup in Qatar, but that one will take place in November. Today, however, we’re talking about the 1994 World Cup, which happened in none other than my home country of the United States.
Lots of people in the US have memories of that World Cup, especially people in the Boston area, where I live, because there were games at Gilette Stadium in Foxboro. One of those people is my seventh grade math teacher, Mr. Marino. When I emailed him last month, telling him about my blog, he noticed that I wrote a lot about soccer. He told me that he had one distinct memory from his childhood of this World Cup.
The particular game is a quarterfinal for Italy against Spain, where Italy advanced to the semifinals, only to lose to Brazil in the finals. This is Italy vs. Spain, as told by a 13-year-old Italy fan:
“I had never seen a grown man crying so theatrically my whole life. He was inconsolably wailing, only stopping every few seconds to say, “Non ci credo.” That’s Italian for, “I don’t believe it.” Seconds earlier Italy punched its ticket to the World Cup semi-finals with an 88th minute goal from its star striker, Roberto Baggio. When the ball hit the back of the net, the stadium, and its decidedly pro-Italian crowd, erupted. A shockwave of energy ran through the crowd and a chorus of “BAAAAGGGGGIIIIOOOOOOOOOOO!” chants emerged. As a thirteen-year-old at the event, two things had struck me before the goal; the number of women who were covered by little more than the Italian flag, and the number of men for whom every movement on the pitch took on the importance of a life or death moment. Specifically, a middle-aged man wearing a flag as a cape a few rows in front of me. All game he cheered and winced with embellished movements and loud Italian chants. When Italy went up one-nill earlier in the game he jumped and danced and when Spain tied the game just after halftime, you could see the air visibly leave his body. The rest of the game he nervously half-watched, forced to look away when the ball was on Italy’s side of the pitch. When the game-winning goal went in he cried like a family member had passed away. If I didn’t know it, I would have thought his team lost. The game was memorable, but the crowd, and the passion that took over the stadium that day are something that I will never forget.”
The Goal Post 