Vidal is another thing. Trying to rearrange my thoughts I understand that he is everything BUT thought. He is instinct, heart, soul. The transposition of the lightning strike in football. In the year he arrived I bought only two Juventus shirts. That of Del Piero, in black and white. And his, the pink one that many despised myself included. When he has not completely exploded when still wore the number 22. Like beautiful things flourish in the spring. That shirt that made me love it because coincided with some of his best games. One of the two goals within minutes against Rome on that Sunday in April. It was on his birthday. Or the one, his most beautiful goal, against Napoli. Feint and counter-feint, ball on the left, no! he has widened it too much … Ball under post, the heart under the Curva Sud.
He was the symbol of that kind of perfection that sometimes in life as in football is only touched and then you can only remember it. So it was in the spring of the first Juve of Conte. Vidal is another thing. Captain without armband, the Warrior who you would always want at your side in battle (this is a quote), someone who you would like that defends you and you to defend even when he is wrong. The Spartans said that the strength of a warrior was his companion at his side …
There are so many images that I will carry inside: the assist to Del Piero against inter, the one for Matri against Fiorentina; that goal in pain he scores in London, we are 2-0 down. Puts it in the corner, limping and his face suffering but finds time and strength to rejoice, forms the heart that identifies him, the heart of many Juventus supporters in which he made inroads. Heart and soul. During a rainy afternoon he decided a Derby with a mysterious goal and then jumped chest to chest with Antonio Conte. If from that impact would have opened a chasm, I would not be surprised. The heart and soul of that team, it was yet another scudetto.
A year later calmed the hot spirits of San Siro after Icardi had inflamed them. And how can we forget the back heel with assist for Tevez of this season. A week later, that race in stoppage time at the San Paolo and the blow of the goal were as a liberation: the turning point game of the this season. The penalty-kick on my open heart against Monaco in the quarterfinals, which cost me a few years of life. Arturo earlier had just devoured a goal . But even when he made mistakes I could not wish him harm.
He is one of the few who I always forgave, reminds me of someone (although that’s another story). I’ve forgiven him when this year he was slow in taking off. I forgave him even on June 6. Arturo Vidal is another thing, he is a name indelibly printed on a jersey to which now I look jealously, is a name that now will take the form of a vacuum that will definitely find a space in my heart. Again, on July 15.
Now I will take all these memories and many others, I will keep them in a drawer. I will hide them for good, because seeing them hurts me. But deep down I know there will be times when I will need them and then I’ll go to fish them out without anyone’s knowledge, between me and myself, as it happens with old photos where someone laughs and is happy. Maybe it will burn, but the joy to have lived them will be stronger than the melancholy of them vanishing.
Because Vidal is another thing. Thanks Arturo!
adapted an article written by Marco Bonomo @ juventibus.com