What buzzes in the head by Luciano Spalletti at the bottom of a season very beautiful and a bit rogue and, not even the time to do a waltz ride with its donkeys, its ducks and its ostriches that it is already time to leave again in a fuss of cases open And stories difficult, between indecipherable arrivals and painful departures? Starting with Insigne, left even before leaving. The fans of the Naples hanging in doubt e uncertainties that do not worry too much, but only because they are lucky enough to be Neapolitans. And he, Lucio Cincinnato Spallettiwhat will he be ruminating, while his corns find the concrete pleasure of the spade, the tractors and the things to do, because if you don’t make them the roof won’t hold up and nature gets angry?
Let’s try to imagine. In the meantime, it must be said, it takes little for man to regenerate himself. In short. There family, mother Ilva at the top of the podium, the earth, the animals, starting with those with whom loving senses have always run, namely the Cioni hens. The friends historians with whom last night he celebrated an oceanic gathering, at least three hundred, Homeric joy and rivers of alcohol, the reds and whites of Lucio. Another complicated season, with yet another accident “Captain” to manage, Insigne after Icardi and Totti.
And then, take off the sorry absurd not to have won a championship that no one had asked him to win but that, at some point it seems to be an obligation to win. The paradox of those ten consecutive victories: they created joy but also a dangerous off topic. The scudetto, precisely. It so happens that the qualification in Champions League, the maximum goal to be whispered at the beginning of the season, which failed in the previous two years by Mister Real Ancelotti and Gattuso, almost becomes a consolation token rather than a tombola. Difficult to accept, but Spalletti he has the hard and monotonous head of the samurai, they collect everything, real victories and imaginary defeats, knowing that then it is a question of getting back on the tractor or the rotary tiller to level the next hump.
Spalletti reads the newspapers and shrugs. If you can afford it, because with De Laurentiis the report it’s complicated but honest. He will never be the coach who throws the club he works for with crazy demands. Maybe he would also want to do it, but he just can’t do it, it’s not in the rough but unchangeable strings of him. Her claims they are few but clear. Sculpted. A alone player on which he is ready for a head-on collision. Koulibaly. Will you sell it to me? A second later I resign. Fabian Ruiz. Don’t sign the renewal? Not his problem. De Laurentiis wants to put him out pink as he did with Milik in the past? He will have to deal with his coach. Spalletti considers the Spaniard one of the 5 or 6 players in the Champions League squad. Even in case of (unlikely) disposal of Osimhen the man from Certaldo will not set fire to Castelvolturno. Can you sell it to me for 80, 100 million? Very well, buy me another strong and overbearing one (to name one, he would be ecstatic to find himself between the feet Edin Dzeko, one that Inter would like to smuggle). The farewell of Mertens he suffered it (also a question of money, too much money and too many springs), even if it does not tear him apart. Politano does he want to leave (a question of feeling insinuates his entourage, but perhaps also a question of money here)? Okay, but don’t take me Deulofeu. Who is a devastating player but in a football that is not Spalletti’s. The football that he hates, that of making a tortoise behind and romping in the spaces. He would like, and how, Veretoutbut it costs too much and he knows that “costing too much” in Naples is worse than having cholera. Pjanic? It is not necessary. He likes Lobotka.
At the end of the fair, Spalletti the satisfied with little. Insigne goes away, you take him the ineffable and unpronounceable Kvaratskhelia, the Georgian. He doesn’t know him, but he’s fine with him. He trusts a lot Joints. He likes this Olivera instead of Ghoulam and above all he likes the ransom of Anguissa, one of the five, six Champions competition foals mentioned above. Armored him Kouly, give him another central and Spalletti will not purr, but he will do his. He will go to war, knowing full well that he will have to stop his ears for the delusional who will ask him for the Scudetto, when Milan strengthens, Inter catches Lukaku and Dybala, Juventus takes Pogba, finds Chiesa and Roma want to make them happy. Mourinho.
After six years of Rome, two from Inter and one from Naples, having been through cooked and raw, Spalletti has learned to trust only his calluses. There history perfect will probably not even come with Napoli. A scudetto in the Maradona stadium, at the end of his parable of trainer, would deliver it to the greatness it deserves. Won’t it be so? Patience. Won’t the figurine of him end up in the front row in Gregorio Armeno’s cribs next to those of Totò, Maradona and Troisi? He will do one reason. The perfect stories, probably, are not written in his DNA, which takes so much effort to get where it needs to go, whatever it is, so much effort that then there is not even a way to enjoy it.
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