I have followed, fascinated, the details of the southern adventure of Daniele de Rossi , a world champion, in Boca Juniors . I became interested even in the rite of initiation to which he was subjected as soon as he arrived with his first roast, which was not a grill, but a stake, as in an evocation of the gaucho campfire, surrounded by Borgian daggers, which suits this great warrior Roman.
On the initiative of Apache Tévez , Boca's staff later completed it with another barbecue in Dock Sud, on the famous El Tano grill, the nickname with which they distinguish the Italians in Buenos Aires and which has already been endorsed by De Rossi , not in vain welcomed in a team, that of the Genoese, whose founding tradition is Italian as Spanish is that of my dear Independent. The Italianness of the port of La Boca is such that it gave rise to the invention of lunfardo neologisms in the fusion of languages. Among which my favorite is the word percanta, which comes from when Italian immigrants, after spending weeks locked in bilges unable to let off steam, approached port prostitutes and, quite impatiently, asked them: «Per quanto? Per quanto? These things come out in the strange books of Roberto Arlt, where there are guys who shoot with bullet for a tiny affront, and they do it without desire, afraid of themselves, but aware that neighborhood fame depends on it and that Forgiven affront happens another worse. Here we are also talking about football, right? At least how it is understood on both sides of the Río de la Plata. Or how it was understood before the VAR, which has fulfilled Rattin's prophecy that a whole football culture, mischievous and brave, would end the arrival of sneak television cameras.
Before jumping to the La Bombonera lawn, whose grandstand is an experience through which De Rossi crossed an ocean, the Romanist scrupulously fulfilled another initiation process: the visit at his home to Maradona, who received him in a messy room with a matte subject in the palm of the hand. The conversation between the two was beautiful, at least the part that transcended the presence of a camera. De Rossi, who at all times had a reverential attitude and who already speaks a Spanish with a Buenos Aires accent and says cute instead of pretty, was asked if he would invite Diego to see him play at La Bombonera. And he, always aware of the hierarchies and codes of the place where he is, laughed as if it were absurd to think that, to step on La Bombonera, Maradona needs to be invited by a European so newcomer that he has barely had time to digest two roasts.
Later, Maradona told him about the two consecutive days he spent crying when he retired and that he made the decision because he had no stimuli to extend his career a few more evenings: «I didn't have your luck. I couldn't get to know Boca. I had already played there. Here is the phrase that explains De Rossi's trip after a lifetime of Romanism and defines it as a type of old school capable of understanding and appreciating things that a craving little creature like the current Disney cracks would not even find out .
After having loved Roma so intensely and having beaten there for almost 20 years, what stimulus did De Rossi have left to play, for about 40 years, a few more evenings? China? Qatar? No man no. He had to meet Boca. He had to know Argentina. Surrender to the peripheral ideal of a pure football, loaded with codes and feelings without breaking. Less sophisticated, okay, with trips and stadiums inside which De Rossi is going to be impressed because a European Champions footballer hasn't seen anything like that. But that De Rossi wanted to live that instead of jogging for money for the sheikhs, and that he understood everything so quickly, makes it a compensation for the hateful modern football. As Jero would say: this is from the old law.
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