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Tacchettee's faith starts from the end. And that is, since the cultural drunkenness of the Seventies and the aftermath of the Eighties passed, the next decade would have the task of quenching the kaleidoscopic consciences by taking them towards a hang over of realism. Globalization, the golden goal , the fading of subcultures. In short: the world changes together with the synth of the Pet Shop Boys in Paninaro. Of the pints of the fifth Beatle George Best and the Campari della Milano to drink, it seems that only the bottom should remain.

And instead the 90s will be a colossal hang on.


What to choose: Fiorello and the Karaoke or Ambra and Boncompagni of Isn't la Rai ?
Tamagochi or Furby? The teleshopping of the Baffo or the murder of Laura Palmer?

And instead the summer squares of the FestivalBar full and the CDs sold on the beach? t7> ranging from the Gallagherian Britpop of the two hundred and fifty thousand of Knebworth
to the very Italian 883 from (same) bars, passing through more alternative groups
and more faithful to the line such as the CCCPs of Zamboni and Giovanni Lindo Ferretti.

​​Congratulations. Congratulations. But in the end, there is something that above all else.
Football of those years, capable of evoking in anyone a nostalgic pleasure .


Tacchettee is a love letter to the 90s. To the cultural scene and in particular, to the romantic side of pre-modern football of those years. With phenomena of one meter and seventy that arise in the pampa di Lanús as in the alleys of Bari Vecchia. A cut above normal. Different from the others but tremendously humans for some reason of theirs. People even before players. And Tacchettee imagined them each in his place, in the Yellow Olympus.


In love with football novels, the ones that don't always end well.
We were late during the nights magical nights of Italy '90 with one of the two national Totòs. Four years later we mocked Adele Ross, Queen of Motown's two-step penalty at the opening ceremony of Usa '94. shot in the Californian sky of the Rose Bowl in Pasadena?

In Padua they learned their lesson and for four hundred million they secured the talents of Alexi Lalas at the end of the world and the doubt of what an honest midfielder he was actually rather than a rock star at stars and stripes. Indie.


The 1995 Bari Train by Igor Protti, Miguel Ángel Guerrero and associates is indie.
The cost to coast of Liberian President George Weah from 1996 is mainstream.

However, the border is not always net. There is a thin yellow line between the two worlds.
And sometimes indie and mainstream can blend in .. into myths that are difficult to grasp:
unobtainable like the two that haunted thousands of collectors in '97.

​​Sergio Volpi and Paolo Poggi have never been team mates. Figurine mates, that is. Roommates of that double that Dolber forgot cunningly to print for the gift album of tires.
With the secret approval of the dentists. In balance between niche cult and popular childhood trauma, that memory still provokes today, cradled in nostalgia, a form of nostalgic contentment .

Narrow street

Belonging and student spirit, the derby is a challenge between two souls of the same city.

In Rome, Lazio and Romanism pass through gestures on the pitch. Totti's shirt I have purged you again, Gascoigne's tears under the Nord or Cafù's sombrero.

In Turin, the Derby della Mole has often taken on social implications. At the factory he teased. In the field with doors. The old grenade heart in Marco Ferrante's horns. Sponda Juventus people heart and class like Ravanelli and Zizou.

In the shadow of the Madonnina the derby goes beyond national borders. And not just by setting the atmosphere on fire. Thus in the Milanese Euro derby '03 the flares launched by the Nerazzurri destroyed Dida's career. The year before Ronaldo - the Phenomenon, was crying for the faded tricolor. Sincerely sorry, the rival cousins.

The derby has no age: the first of the Lanterna is dated 1902, when there were still three Genoese. Up to the 90s, with the Marassi meadow contested by guys like the Montella airplane or by the strange exotic couple Aguilera - Skuhravy.

The obviously compelling novel attracted extras from all over the world.


That Serie A full of champions was tempting.
And if we import the asado from Argentina, in those seasons in Parma and Florence they also tried the center forwards. The ducal winners of Uefa '98, LA fantasquadra, the only club shirt kissed by Valdanito Hernan Crespo.

To Gabriel Omar Batistuta and his "garra" the Florentine fans dedicated a statue: he will thank them with machine gun shots chasing in vain a tricolor. That same championship that Edmundo exchanged, with the purple winter champions, for a ticket to Rio. O’Animal hats off, au carnaval !

Argentine tango, Brazilian samba, but even we Italians are not joking, a country within a country, made up of teams and rivalries. Big versus small.
We love nefarious parochialism. We love the use of dialects that create patronni Corvinians, sguadwgrrr Delnerians or "mitt a cassan!" in the debut of a talent that will be wasted. Because in the end, what could be more romantic than burning one's talent?


Thinking about it, there is something. A far cry from flo shoes of oiled outsiders.
Closer to the origins of the game, on the street as children. Football in the Province.

How many times playing on the street did the ball end up under a car or in a ditch?
Dirty clothes and fear of going home. But there is a place where the ball risks a dive at most. The 2nd stadium of Italy, the only one on the water. Il Penzo di Venezia,
the home of the Recoba-Maniero couple and one of the most fascinating shirts ...

How many goals scored in the Cesarini area at the oratory dreaming of being a panzer?
Like Bierhoff in Friuli . He arrives on tiptoe, first season of 17 goals
and Mannschaft call: European final '96, enters the last 25 minutes.
As a good pragmatic German, it takes little: double and continental title.

How many sincere celebrations playing as children on the pitches against rivals?
Like Carletto Mazzone's charge towards the Bergamo sector at 3-3 ...


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