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Rating: I go to study at the house of a colleague I met during the academic quarter-hour because he came to bum a rolling paper off me. Once in his room, I can't help but notice the enormous National Alliance flag, the Bonito ashtray, a thousand other knick-knacks, and a book.
"Can I borrow it?"
"Okay, but take good care of it because I care about it."
Paolo Di Canio was an excellent player; his career is full of wonderful technical moves and very controversial episodes. Moreover, in football analysis shows, he always proved to be a just person, always standing out with sharp observations and comments that are always constructive and never trivial. So I wonder why that ideology, why so insistent on a gesture to the point of accepting a 10,000 Euro fine a week, why is "he," the mischievous dwarf, defending him?
I indulge in the reading hoping for some answers, some clarification, some argument. After all, it's not quite the autobiography of Totti, Gattuso, or Materazzi.
To no avail. I stumbled upon a stupid biography of a footballer.
It's just the boring story of another overweight kid who made it.
"Here it is, thanks"
"Already read? Make a coffee and tell me what you think while I roll this one..."
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