When it came to that village, Ururi, I was too young to understand anything about football. But growing up I could hear them, uncles, grandparents, friends of my parents speak of the Captain, and there was no need to specify your name, because the captain has always had only one. A physicist from dry, dark-skinned, with small eyes that you could pass right through, with a couple of intimidating mustache.
Whenever the opposing team had a very strong striker he thought the Captain. The asphyxiated literally, the brand in a way that one could not even restart your hair. Michele Scorrano had played with everyone, was the captain of all. And while the story passed the rigors wallpaper by Lamia Caputo, assists Biondi, the goal of heels, the play Progno of the subtleties of Pinna, he was always there, a pillar of the defense, sullen, never wrong, a stronghold over which they could not even pass Boniek and Platini in that mythical Cup match Italy.
the people of my age like the defenders Bergomi, Gentile, Baresi and Cannavaro today have never been impressive. Because we saw him play Captain Michele Scorrano when they were just kids, and every time they had to face teams with much more than a few minutes to realize that Michael would bring out every insecurity, every fear, fighting for every ball, working hard in silence, with humility and never overdo it. If they have not been seen for players and so may not see it. Captains in and out, before, during and after the football career.
Hello Michael, the city did not thank you enough.
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