From Cusenza to Roma

[Italiamia]

The first ever live match that I experienced was at Stadio San Vito, Cosenza in Calabria. Although I was born in Reggio Calabria, my maternal grandfather was from Cosenza, about an hour or so north of Reggio Calabria. Other than my father, he was the most influential man in my life. He founded a construction company in his home town and worked 7 days a week. His passion was calcio, and he would tell me that he watched his Cosenza team play in the original stadium for the club named, Città di Cosenza. Incredibly, the stadium was on viale Roma and the Cosenza team were called Lupi. He told me it was a small "stadium", barely capable of holding 5,000 people. The name of the stadium was changed to “Stadio Emilio Morrone” in honor of a Cosenza player who died during a match. By the time it became Stadio San Vito, it barely held 20,000 fans. My first ever match saw Consenza win and I remember an incredible player with the last name of Villa, who dominated the game. After this match, I was forever addicted to calcio as a spectator. That was in 1974. Even though we moved from Reggio Calabria to Rome in 1964, I was not a fanatical fan of the game because I was a very sickly boy, almost dying of asthma on three occasions even though I was able to play the game. Calabria was not an easy jaunt south from Roma. It was a long, tiring trek since there was not a comfortable highway south. In fact, in order to get to my father's home town, donkeys were needed to get up those hills to Chorio di San Lorenzo because there were no roads capable of passing with an automobile. Such were the conditions of post war Italy where the south was neglected and devoid of paved roads, electricity and sewage.

I took that first experience at the San Vito back to Roma, and I begged my father to allow me to attend Roma matches, with or without him. Not surprisingly, I was already a Roma fan of course, only listening by radio and reading the newspapers to get my fill of all things Roma. He was not agreeable, and I had to wait until my 14th birthday to get my chance to attend Roma matches on a regular basis. My mother intervened and ordered my father to allow me to go to see those matches with friends because I was the only kid, asthma and all, sitting home alone on match days. You may think the Pope and the Church dominate Rome, but that is a myth because the only thing that ever mattered was Roma and the Serie A championship despite the rantings of the scum lazzie fans. Oh, we had to go to Holy Mass, and sit down for Sunday dinner, but I was always given leave to head for stadium to see our boys go out there and represent our city and its fans.

..............................to be continued.

[DavidP]

i like this, do post more. and i only recently saw your post in the ago thread. absolutely brilliant.

[red]

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[Italiamia]

I started this thread for the sole purpose of having others tell their individual stories of just how they became Roma fans and, as an epitaph.
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I began to attend Roma matches at the age of 14, sitting on the Curva Nord. Those games were great in those days even though the squad was not very good. However. we had a feeling, in retrospect of course, that something was happening. We saw the 'grinta', the desire of our boys on the pitch and the passion of the fans which our squad certainly had to feel. You could almost physically measure it. Anyway, I was just a snot nosed kid, usually having to leave my friends to take a walk outside of the stadium to get some air in my lungs because my asthma was a serious matter. Smoking was prevalent, and an asthmatic could hardly breathe, even in an outdoor stadium. This is why my father was not happy about me leaving the house for extended periods of time given the state of my health in those days.

Late in the campionato of 1976, my great friend Giacomo, who lived seconds away from my family in Trastevere, introduced me to Antonio Bongi. He was the Founder the BOYS, a Roma Ultra 'group' which was, along with some other primitive groups at that time, were starting to make their presence felt at the Olimpico. At that time, given my age, I knew nothing of the motives of these people. Antonio seemed to be a fine fellow. He was 4 years older than me, and he quickly introduced me to Fausto Josa, who, with his close friend Renato Faitella, joined Antonio to develop the Roma Ultra movement, and the BOYS back in 72. One thing that needs to be pointed out is that the Ultra movement in the early 1970's in Rome was created, founded, and initiated by kids in their 'teens'. We are talking about 14 to 18 year old boys. There was no politics involved in those days. Not that I could appreciate, anyway, at my age. We were simply looking for a demonstrative way to support Roma in order to have an impact on the squad. As I remember Bongi telling me, he founded the BOYS for the sole purpose of being THE most recognisable Ultra group in Rome. Bongi, and a couple of his friends, raised money to buy drums, trumpets and other instruments to make our presence felt on the Curva Nord. Yes, the Curva Nord. We had brothers in arms in those days: Fedayn, Pantere e Fossa dei Lupi, who were minor to the BOYS at that time. Bongi always maintained that the BOYS needed to be the most active and prominent group at the Olimpico. We had to be "men of action", as he used to say. At this point, although I did not really comprehend it at the time, the BOYS were an extreme right wing, politically speaking, group, comprised of people with motives that went beyond pitch. Then, the Vincenzo Paparelli murder happened, and my life was suspended at the Olimpico.

http://www.asromaultras.org/amarcord_005%20copia.jpg


..............................to be continued.

[Italiamia]

How is it possible to view the world as a mature adult when you are 14 years of age. I attended Liceo Classico Statale Giulio Cesare. If you had a mind for mathematics, this was not your school. Politics, the history of fascism, and the Marxist threat to democracy were the subjects of the day. These were the heavy days, historically referred to in my Italy as 'Anni di Piombo. http://shanfara.blog.espresso.repubblic ... index.html. If you lived in Rome in the mid to late 1970's, as a teenager, your life was at risk each time you left your house to attend school. My poor parents lost years from their lives each day I left the house for school. The Marxist/Communist movement was doing its best to bring Italy in line with Russia. Violence, murder and destruction was the method used to threaten and intimidate Romans in those days. http://www.mollicone.it/wp-content/uplo ... iombo1.jpg Many good people died, for no damn reason, because Communists had no respect for human life. Parents and children died in the name of altruism. Fascism reared its ugly head again to combat the Communist threat while freedom loving people avoided the conflict. Clashes between the two extremes resulted in countless injuries and deaths. Teenage boys and girls caught in the conflict were killed. Funerals were common in those days as parents buried their kids while grandparents, overcome by grief, mourned to an abbreviated life. These were tragic and difficult days that are even now, in the year of our Lord 2012, commemorated by Roman politicians as a warning to the people.

I do not agree with much of what Gianni Alemanno( he's Fascist) says, but this is dead on accurate:

"Anni a volte molto difficili - ha aggiunto facendo riferimento ai cosiddetti anni di piombo - Proprio in questo quartiere ragazzi di destra e di sinistra sono morti a causa di divisioni, di contrapposizioni ideologiche. Tutto questo, oggi, deve essere assolutamente evitato".


http://www.liberoquotidiano.it/news/923 ... giche.html

http://www.atuttadestra.net/?p=32956

What does all of this have to do with calcio and Roma? We lived with this danger every day. At 14, I was just happy to attend Roma matches in 1976.I never thought of being killed or maimed at that age. By 1977, all of the Ultra groups, led by Antonio Bongi and the BOYS, moved from the Curva Nord to the Curva Sud. Bongi, and the leaders of the minor Ultra groups evidently discussed and organized this transfer from North to South, with Bongi leading our BOYS which in those days were the major Roma Ultrà group. Hence, the universal Roma Ultrà movement was born. CUCS, Commando Ultrà Curva Sud was formed as our unified, fanatical Roma fan base. http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=Cbn ... ature=fvwp


I suppose I was ignorant in those days, lacking the capacity to understand the politics involved with the Ultrà movement. Roma was not a good team but we had a player whom we believed was ordained to take Roma to another level. Agostino Di Bartolomei..........http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4vQTvDB ... re=related. He was the idol of everyone I knew. No player of my generation ever attracted so much genuine affection as this Roman. He was not emotional, he was not looking for adulation and he certainly was not looking for attention. But, he got it all. I can't imagine a humble, shy and basically introverted player capable of generating so much respect and idolatry as Ago. The ironic fact is that he never asked for it. With Bruno Conti, he lead Roma, not only to respectability under the ownership of Gaetano Anzalone, but to heights that were beyond what we as fans ever expected. After the purchase by Anzalone of Roberto Pruzzo for 3 miliardi di lire, the highest price ever paid for a player, and near relegation, Roma was on the verge of becoming a force in Europe.


28 October 1979. The death of Lazio fan Vincenzo Paparelli at the derby at the hands of a deranged person who smuggled a lead pipe into the Olimpico. It was a beautiful day. The atmosphere was charged and fueled by insults between Roma and the scum of lazzie sitting on the Curva Nord. Not unusual for a derby, of course. Paparelli was there with his wife and child. He never knew what hit him, dying instantly from a brain injury after being struck with this lead pipe. Nobody on the Curva Sud knew anything until we saw police charging towards the area in the Curva Nord. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mx0E3wMu ... re=related My days of attending Roma matches was finished indefinitely. My father was not happy. After 5 trips to the police station, he had enough. I was exiled to my school work and calcio was a vulgar word in my house. He threatened to take me out of Italy, and he meant it.

http://www.lazioebasta.it/general_file/ ... lli_01.jpg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T49C4vdK ... re=related (be patient and watch this video and you can see how easy it was for us to approach the players and the coach of Roma.)

[Lupa]

Gio, this is great stuff. I'm already looking forward to the next installment!

[Italiamia]

Father Perulli was our Parish priest. He was a popular figure in the area, often visiting the humble homes of the neighborhood. In the aftermath of the Paparelli affair, our parents were of the opinion that we did not have enough Jesus in our lives. Despite the fact that I was 'pulled' out of bed every Sunday morning by my father to attend Holy Mass, this was no near good enough to save my soul. I had nothing to do with the death of Vincenzo Paparelli, but I was guilty by association, even though it was not an Ultra who performed this heinous act of murder. 'Confession is the gate to heaven my boy', as my father used to say. 'When I was young, I went to confession once a week', he said. I had no problem with confession in those days, you just told the father a few things, and he would immediately absolve us of our sins and that was the end of it. Of course, several Hail Mary's and a few Glory be's were in order, and out we went from the church.

In 1979, this face to face confession stuff was ordered by the church. No more priest and penitent divided in the confessional. No, now I had to sit there directly in front of the priest to confess. Imagine yourself at 16 sitting in front of this man revealing your inner most personal feelings. Not me, I said to myself, what have I done. On my father's grave, in retrospect, I believe the Polizia had a hand in this because I was interrogated for an hour by Father Perulli about the Paparelli murder. Stupid questions like.."why did you remove the seats on the Curva Sud". For informational purposes, we tore out the seats because they were an impediment to our endeavors on the Curva. To make a torrid story short, I told the truth, because neither I, nor my fellow BOYS had a damn thing to do with this business. The confessionals were full of teenagers at that time being subjected to what amounted to ridiculous questioning contrived to obtain information about the CUCS...groups and our "subversive" intentions. Anyway, I came out of the process in tact. We all felt that our days as Roma Ultras were at an end. My mother called my Grandfather to head to Roma from Cosenza to help take control of me. My Dad was an extremely passive and good-natured person who could never be upset for very long. My Grandfather would bury you upside down in his back yard if you crossed him. But not me, I was his boy. The first born grandchild who carried his name. No way he would crucify me for no good reason. I was banned, grounded, excluded from the Olimpico for Roma matches. Mrs. Luparelli came to the house to ward off the evil spirits that were tormenting me. She would take water and oil and try to separate it in a bowl over my head. I thought water and oil never could mix up together. No, she said. It took about 12 times to separate this substance and the longer it took, it proved my affliction of all things evil. Then, once she was able to separate the divine mixture, she gave me a piece of red felt to carry in my pocket for 6 weeks. This would give me protection from Lucifer, and the curse would be broken. Mrs. Luparelli had a sister, Mrs. Luparelli the second, who was really talented. She never had to come to the house to perform this pseudo exorcism, she only needed to hear your voice on the telephone for about 5 seconds to exorcise the demons. I saw this as a great gift. I still had to carry the red felt for 6 weeks, but it saved me from the sickening smell that emanated from the unshaven armpits and bad breath of Mrs. Luparelli the elder, with her facial moles and bad teeth. Jesus was really looking after me.

[DDR]

You need to tuck me in to bed at night with these stories.

[Italiamia]

I turned 17 on 15 October, 1979, a day under 2 weeks before the Paparelli murder. Other than avoiding the Molotov cocktails and stray bullets between neo Fascists and Communists near my school, life was pretty good. The mayhem became a regular part of our lives. Gun fire, amateur bombs and rocks never bothered me because I never thought I could be killed or maimed. Never. Unfortunately, my father did not think so. In the aftermath of Paparelli, my banishment from the Olimpico, and the needs of my baby sister, Papà, who had threatened to leave for America for the past 5 years, said we were leaving Italy. That was 5 May, 1980. I had another year of Liceo and Roma was steadily becoming a very good to great team. We all felt it, saw it, and enjoyed it. The excitement could almost be measured. My Dad said this was for real. The five of us were leaving for America. Our immigrant visa's were granted, and the arrangements were already made to leave our homeland for foreign soil. Other than my Dad, nobody spoke a lick of comprehensible English. His brother, Francesco, who was 20 years his senior, left for America just after the war. Later, my Dad's sisters left Calabria as well, 4 leaving in the 1950's, and zia Maria, just after the death of my grandfather in June of 1976.

My mother's parents were in Rome on the the 5th of May, 1980. Odd, we had just come off of Easter, why would they come back to Rome so quickly, I thought at the time. Somebody either died or was sick. The kids are always the last to know about death and dying. I swear on my kids, the first 12 yeas of my life were spent mourning over the deaths of family members. All on my Dad's side of the family. My cousin, Davide, who is 1 year older than myself, was my constant companion in those days, avoiding the dead body in the house, and serving the wine to the then living family members.

I have 3 idols in my short life on this earth. Ago Di Barotolmei, my father, and my maternal grandfather, Pietro Colosimo. He was the driving force of the family, hard working, positive, and uneducated. Nevertheless, he spoke three languages, taught himself calculus and founded a very successful construction company. He fronted the cash, along with zio Francesco to pay our way to America. My grandfather was the man who consoled me when my Dad made the announcement. I was not going; I had a life; I had a girl; I had Roma, and I was a year short of graduating from Liceo.

Life as I knew it, came to an end. Nothing my grandfather could tell me would make me feel any better. I wanted to stay in Italy. My life was there, what did I know about the world at that time.



to be continued..................