Inter Milan

Passion for me is coloured in blue and black, in nerazzurro.

It’s a mix of memories. Seeing my grandfather semi-swearing in front of black & white tv, my father recalling the glorious days of the Grande Inter.

Of sharing of emotions. Those of sadness during the ‘90s because of dominance by the ever reviled cugini, and with retrospective because of the calciopoli. During that maledetto 05 May 2002 when we lost one game, others won another and it so happened that we had the scudetto at hand for nearly a whole year and lost it on the last day.

Of the great pleasure. Of seeing your team winning everything there is to win and more. Of seeing your team endure the greatest blitz in football history at the Camp Nou.

Of tradition, with a history spanning more than a century and never seeing your team playing in Serie B as this never happened, the pleasure of seeing the best talent in the world, playing for your team.

Of great location. It’s because of that great temple San Siro and all the devoted who every Sunday or so, as if because for a religious obligation, gather to chant, swear and pray together whether at the temple itself or from far away all looking at the same direction as if finding their Jerusalem or Qilbah in that green field.

Of great mottos. ‘Mai in B’ (never in B) and ‘Nerazzurro si Nasce’ (you’re born blueblack)

It’s because of the values, the rebellious spirit who found it outrageous that in order to play in a team one has to be of a particular nationality. So we were reborn as the antimatter of the previous team blue instead of red. Football is international, internazionale and they were the prophets for the beautiful game which today is enjoyed by Russian oligarch spending billions of oil money to Sub-Saharan boys shooting paper balls through tyre wheels.

In short its because of the colours, of those blue and black stripes.