28th October 1979
An Italian tragedy

From the page: www.vivereultras.altervista.org

28th October ...
Actually, it should be the usual morning to celebrate. As always before a derby was too little sleep and restless. At 7 clock in the morning I had been ripped open his eyes wide, the only thought in my curve, with the choreography that we had prepared at great sacrifice, when his opponents, game. I go to the window ... what a shitty day. After a quick shower and a modest breakfast, I'm with the scarf around his neck at the meeting point, to go with friends to the stadium. The radio will be just a little reassuring news of riots between fans at Termini Station, distributed at the Piazza delle Province and the Milvio bridge. A little chat, while we wait for the usual latecomers, then we set off on our northern curve. Around 11 clock, we arrive at the place ahead of the curve. All around us we see tense faces of people, especially young, for those not fast enough, this Sunday may be over. A completely unusual for a derby atmosphere ... It begins with a purely gather the material for the choreography. The searches at the inlet are unusually shallow. Even indoors, the situation is no longer relax. In the South Stand will see a banner saying about Re Cecconi, a model of wickedness. The north end responds with two gigantic screens, "drooling Rocca, the dead are no longer on" and "Yellow-Red Holocaust," while a banner at the top with "Sorry, pig, if I call you Romanista" enthroned. The ground floor of the north curve was still quite empty as could be observed in the southern curve of an unusual comings and goings of people groups. The minutes pass and the sayings are getting harder. We sit around chatting with some friends, because of the choreography, I think, than anything from the other end of the stadium will start flying over the place and it drags a white smoke trail behind it. The moment of shock at this "thing" is, unfortunately, immediately replaced by the certainty that just something very serious has happened. The missile hits an audience about 20 feet from us, immediately sparked a brilliantly bright red light. Someone to sacrifice themselves to help the unfortunate, but nobody can do anything more for him. The people around us are in fear and terror. Some run away screaming, some weep, some smashed the wooden benches of the curve in order to avenge this act somehow ... My first thought was, herunterzurennen the stairs and look on the forecourt of the north end protection. I see people fleeing and upstanding doors wide open without any checks or police. On one side of the stairs a maybe 18 year old girl sitting on a stage, crying. She is injured on one hand. I give her my scarf to stop the bleeding. At this very moment flying over the north end wine more explosive and exploding on the hill behind the curve. I accompany the girl to Sani in the curve and was wondering what to do. I'm all alone in the midst of the panic. Who knows where my friends have ended up. I try to use what little sense of what I have left over the rush of adrenalin. Around me, many people try to persuade family including fathers with their children, normal people, youth, women, the mass to launch an attack on the Curva Sud to make short work. The thirst for vengeance gains the upper hand. I go back into the corner and grab me a latte out of a broken seat. I see that many others had the same idea. Meanwhile on the ground floor looking for a group of youth physical contact with the Carabinieri, shortly after the fall behind and have to retire. I go back down to the forecourt, where about 300 organized with bottlenecks, flag poles, wooden planks armed men for the attack. Meanwhile, the radio spread the news of the death of Vincenzo Paparellis. From the Curva Sud sounds a crazy song, "One down! We have more space ... "Then the anger explodes definitively adopted and the first attack began on the South Stand. In front of me a gentleman in his mid forties, who swings a club, he has broken out werweißwo. Blind with rage, I follow it and collect it on the road blocks that I put into my pockets. I turn around and behind me are still at least another 200 people. At that moment I was thinking of anything else to go on than to break into the den of these filthy murderer and to pay them. Soon we cross the street in front of the Tevere-tribune, but arrived at the destination, we find ourselves armored police cars and police officers in relation to gun drawn. With stone and bottle throwing began the attack. The police go so far as it goes behind the patrol car for cover and respond with tear gas. The struggle continued for several minutes and in some crazy lucid moments of my power, I believed I could make it through the barrier. In the light heartedness of my 18 years this was the first time I tried something that struck me already, but I wanted it with every fiber of my body. All who were there wanted to ... and not just the usual stadium hooligans, but ordinary people. The screams, the gunshots, sirens, the acrid smell of tear gas ... a scene that no one can ever forget it is. Only after a few minutes we have to pull back into the North Curve. The doors are still wide open and anyone wishing to enter or exit. Outside the building, between gates and stairs the usual small crowd ... one wonders: the answer violence with violence, or all go away, stay calm? What should we do in the face of such a thing? We boys are all for it, to answer violence with violence, and many other, far more advanced in age, since exactly the same opinion. People that I myself have only just seen in the first row, as they turned onto the police to attack the Curva Sud. Just at the moment of decision to come - completely undisturbed and unaware of what had happened - a dozen "sandwich" with men slung billboards through the gates, perhaps advertising for a movie. Once again they are chased out. Teams of 30-40 people mobilized to achieve individually and without much attention to the South. We leave the curve and try to take as wide a detour to avoid the obstacles and damage to the greatest number of cars. All cars with a sticker of the AS Roma will be destroyed. To explore part of the journey we find that another group was broken up in front of us had exactly the same idea. For that, we walk past the cemetery is now just one car, battered bodies and broken windows. So we change the program again. At least 30 cars on our way to be severely damaged. But the anger is no less. Also in the Viale dei Gladiatore police are in riot gear and allows us no frontal attack on the enemy. We all go back into the corner. The game may not take place ... should not take place! Do not play!

On 11/15/2011 seems Domenico mongoose ultra-novel "Stray dog" (originally "Cani sciolti"). rely As always, we need your help: Liken, sharing, retelling!