09:00. He rings the alarm clock. We didn’t spare ourselves the night before, so the dark circles are conspicuous, sleep is a lot, but the desire for more: it’s the day of Genoa–Pisa. A trip marked on the calendar since August. A friend of mine managed to get us the tickets without telling us anything, knowing that by organizing we would have wasted more time than anything else, and that we would have come anyway. We are a party of four. Historical friends, not the full group, but good ones. In addition to us there will be another five thousand, in a real Tuscan exodus towards Ferraris.

Read also: “Genoa-Pisa, public record at Ferraris in the memory of Signorini“

Upon getting out of bed, the anxiety begins to mount. I prepare the backpack with the bare minimum inside, then I choose the clothes: jeans, sweatshirt, jacket, hat (it will certainly be cold in Genoa), sunglasses and above all the scarf, the lucky one, even a little dirty to be honest. but lived. It can not miss. Once ready, the waiting begins. The car with my friends arrives at 12, half an hour behind schedule. Normally I would get nervous, but today is a special day: just get to Genoa alive by the kick-off. Looking at my phone, I begin to see photos of friends/acquaintances already in Liguria, enjoying the view while eating pasta with pesto. We, on the other hand, are more “sporty”: a stop at the supermarket, some crushed bread with an improbable taste, a tub from the rotisserie department, a few beers, and lunch is ready. Place of consumption? By car, on the street.

During the trip we think about the game, about what could happen, about the emotion of seeing the team of our city play in a historical stadium like Marassi. We get excited meeting other fans on the motorway, scarves are waved: we have also found some on the asphalt. As I said, the euphoria is great. After two and a half hours, having abandoned the Ligurian motorway, with lots of works in progress and long stretches with one lane, we arrive in Genoa, where we go back to the dedicated parking lot for guests.

Only when we get there do we realize how many we actually are. An expanse of cars enjoying the salty air that arrives from the sea, just in front of the parking lot, while the fans begin to crowd into the five buses available to reach the stadium. Before going up, the important thing is not to get lost among us: if I had moved away from the others then, I would probably have found them again in the evening. Once inside, the first real chants begin. We begin to feel the game. Indeed, for us it has already begun: the voice is already small and hoarse. Along the way I see children, perhaps on their first trip, who observe everything with their eyes wide open, full of joy and curiosity, sitting next to their parents, and the elderly, who have made so many of these trips that they could draw a saga from their memories.

Once at the stadium, along the queue at the turnstiles I get anxious about the match. Once the controls have passed, the impact with the Ferraris is important: what a crowd. A spot for football and for the championship: not from Serie A, not in all stadiums of the top division you can see certain panoramas. My eyes become like those of the children seen earlier on the bus. In 22 years of life, it’s the first time I’ve seen my city’s team play a league match in such an important stadium. I think immediately and continuously “But how many we are?”. I greet people, I find friends, I lose mine in moments, only to find them singing on the balustrade. Flags are raised, as are choirs and scarves. The nerazzurri becomes protagonist in the stands. My field view diminishes. In the guests’ sector, packed, I find myself at the top, bent over so as not to hit my head and with the sea wind hitting my neck: luckily I brought my hat, but a backache…

Of the match, little to say, one goal disallowed on each side and an expulsion for Pisa (Marin). It’s worth keeping your eyes on the stands, looking at the faces of the people nearby, of those who, with shining eyes, look around, remembering all the away games on the most improbable provincial fields, Serie D, C, up to enjoying this environment leads the mind to project brighter futures, enjoying the moment, considering it a reward for their efforts. After the match, the team greets and applauds its fans, increasing the total symbiosis that has been present for years and is getting stronger. Puscas also arrives, now in Genoa, to pay homage to the support that was his too a few months ago. Reciprocated applause for him who was one crossbar away from taking Pisa to Serie A.

Once you exit the stadium, the route is the same. You can hear people talking, all saying the same thing: “For how the 0-0 was going, it’s fine”which is what I think too. On the bus there are those who still want to sing, my head explodes. We get back in the car at 20:00. There is only one thought: to support our friend while driving, not wanting bad situations… After getting lost in that continuous ups and downs that is Genoa, we take the motorway: from there you can’t go wrong, everything is right up to Pisa. While one of us falls asleep, the other three of us keep talking, we don’t even feel like music anymore. I arrive home at 10.30pm, after a ten-hour journey. Tired, but happy, because the days come today so already that they will soon become good memories.