The Italian Job (Italian National Team)

lufc4ever

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The Italian Job
July 9th, 2011: 8:37 PM

A nation in shock. Nobody could believe it as I drove up to the hospital as the car radio blared out the big news. It was a bolt from the blue, how something like that could happen, a healthy and fit 54-year old man when he was just sitting at home, having a rare opportunity to relax with the high pressure job he has.

He has had a lot to deal with in the past few years, with the death of his wife from cancer and constantly being under the media's attention. I had known him for years. Since I was a young, big target man style striker at Juventus. I am now 46 years old, and have known him for the best part of 30 years. I rushed into the hospital. I enquired of the staff where he was. I found a private bedroom, with the door locked shut. His bodyguards asked to see my ID. Hurriedly I searched through my wallet and produced it. With a quick scan by this man I was allowed in to see him.

He was lying there, his heart rate constantly being checked by a female doctor, and if he was concious he would have liked the look of her, with her blonde hair and large hooters. Now however was not the time for admiring the doctor's cleavage. He was lying there, looking like he was in a peaceful deep sleep. These are the moments when football become unimportant and the main thing is that Cesare Prandelli recovers, and lives to fight another day.

One of my greatest friends, was Mr. Prandelli. I've known him for the best part of 30 years and grown with him. We both went into coaching after we retired, and it's fair to say he's better than me. I can remember the pride when he appointed me as the assistant manager of Italy while I was coaching at my boyhood club, Juventus. I just wanted him to pull through now, don't give up. You could tell the sadness and almost mourning of an entire nation. We've gone from the incompetence of Silvio Berlusconi (3 times!) to a well-liked, progressive and attacking Italian coach left fighting for his life.
 
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July 11th, 2011: 9:54 AM

I awoke groggily from a troubled and erratic sleep. I looked to my right and saw my alarm clock, 9:54 it read. I started to panic. I've got to be at the training ground at half past eight! However, I quickly calmed down and realised it was Monday, my day off. I stumbled down the stairs into the living room, trying not to disturb my wife who was still sleeping like a log.

When I went downstairs, I heard my mobile phone starting to ring. I checked and saw it was Federico Schiavone, a colleague with the Azzuri. The conversation went like this:

MM (me): Hello.
FS: Hello, is this Mauro Mazzanti?
MM: Yes, the great man himself. What are you ringing for? (I said as I reached for a pack of Marlboros and a lighter, and whipped a cheeky *** into my mouth)
FS: Have you heard the news about Prandelli?
MM: No, at least not since he was in a critical condition in hospital.
FS: He's regained conciousness, and tendered his resignation.
MM: Really?
FS: Yeah.
MM: What brought it on, do we know yet?
FS: Apparently it was stress. With all the constant attention Prandelli was getting, I wouldn't be surprised if it did take his toll. Along with his wife dying of cancer a few years ago.
MM: Who'd be a manager, eh?
FS: Don't try to make light of this situation, Mauro. It's good he's recovering well and hopefully he'll be out of hospital soon.
MM: Who's going to be the new manager?
FS: Allegri's the favourite, but it is believed the FA want someone who will continue the philosophy of Prandelli.
MM: Could be one of us! (I said jokingly)
FS: Don't bet on it. If that's all I'll be going. Bye
MM: Bye

I stubbed out the cigarette on my ashtray. Old habits die now, that will be my last. I put the bacon on the pan, and the satisying sizzle and smell filled the room almost with new-found happiness.


 
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