Many teams and one
So Baggio is different, he belongs to everyone or only to himself and after all his real team was the national team. Precisely this is an open account, and it affects us all: with the blue shirt Roberto Baggio has fewer appearances than Dino Baggio (and it must be said with all respect and admiration for the Paduan, running midfielder, shooting, important goals): talent must be helped, favored, exalted, demanded. Years later, he is looking for tactical exasperation for this reluctance of technicians who are too interested in the attackers chasing the defenders, and not very condescending with the evidence of talent. Instead it is a more serious, general and profound issue. And it touches us, we are interested because in the entrenchment (with any subject) in the face of genius, merit and even in front of the popular need to rejoice with what a football show asks for, there is the educational defeat, the sentimental collapse and the loss of awe of the superior worth of others. That is, in short: the bankruptcy of politics, the bankruptcy of a ruling class.
The most beautiful
He scored his best goal with the Brescia shirt (in 2001) against Juventus, the team that led him to win the Uefa Cup by also favoring the Golden Ball: he was waiting for Pirlo’s throw with his body turned towards his team , with a touch he calmed the ball – in the meantime it was projected forward – and directed it to the right of Van der Sar, avoiding its exit, and then deposited in the free goal. With a gesture he performed three acts: control, direction, dribbling. Meager in form, but dense in knowledge, like poetry, he ventured the difficult exercise and melted it into clear streams that descend safely towards the ocean. Evoking and suggesting extreme senses, Baggio moved around the world in the afternoon (in September 1989) in which everyone saw him leave with the ball, at the San Paolo, from halfway, skip the defense of Napoli, and the goalkeeper, and score (then also double on penalty). Like a verse, his football had a fatal rhythm and possessed a secret tempo: he anticipated the music, playing upbeat, taking away from the defender the security of the “bar” of the game, that “strong” tempo on which the mind and mind rests. reaction. He expanded it with feints and suspensions, wearing out the challenger, forcing him to think too many because there were endless possibilities of being overcome. Then, there were free and grazing runs, and frugal and clear touches. The ball kicked by the champions has a changed sound, a different, mysterious, hidden impulse, but fate is certain. The Florentines were unable to protect him once Baggio became everyone’s. That game then reversed, Maradona entered, Napoli won (3-2) but right in front of Diego the world had seen the best Baggio and had taken him, as happens with a work of art, a work of genius available to history.