An important derby, a poisonous locker room, the smell of ammonia and then the opposing president shows his weapon. But he did not reckon with a lawyer captain …
“But what’s that?”, shouted the Padova players, coloring the exclamation with imaginative scurrilous references which we overlook for elegance. They had just opened the locker room door when they had been hit by a very strong smell, acrid and pungent, a smell that burned the eyes and nipped the nose with unheard-of ferocity. In situations of sudden danger, our brain often snaps like Marcell Jacobs at the starter’s bang; so the smartest of footballers – with eyes that sizzled like onions in gravy – only one word came to mind: ammonia.
