Chapter 800 Commencment Of Eropean Champioship
Chapter 800: Chapter 800 Commencment Of Eropean Champioship
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[11-06-2021 |Stadio Olimpico, Rome, Italy | 19:30 CET]
The Eternal City had spared no expense in welcoming football back. Outside the Stadio Olimpico, the Tiber rolled past as always, but the streets surrounding the ground had been transformed into a sea of blue. Tifosi had been gathering since morning, despite the capped attendance of just over 16,000 inside the stadium, the natives showed up in droves to support their country.
Inside, the bowl of the Olimpico glowed under the early evening sun, the pitch shimmering like emerald glass after one final manicure from the groundskeepers. UEFA staff in matching polo shirts hurried along the touchlines, making last-minute adjustments to the elaborate stage that had been erected at the centre circle. Cameras swept across the stands, picking out fans draped in tricolore flags, faces painted, scarves held aloft in trembling anticipation.
Then, abruptly, all the lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the crowd as the giant screens at either end of the stadium flickered to life, displaying the UEFA Euro 2020 logo before transitioning to a montage of European football history. Goals, saves, celebrations from decades past—Marco van Basten’s volley, Zidane’s headbutt, Iniesta’s winner in Johannesburg—each clip pulling roars from different pockets of the stadium.
In dramatic fashion, the screen faded to black as the music accompanying it dimmed. A single spotlight cut through the gathering dusk as a slim figure dressed in immaculate black tails walked onto the gras hands clasped in front of him. It was Andrea Bocelli who was greeted with a rousing applause by the natives as the orchestra behind him, partially obscured by clever lighting that made them appear to materialise from the shadows, began the opening strains.
A piano tune, followed by a swell of strings, then, to complement the immaculately played instrument, was his voice. "Nessun dorma..." The two words seemed to hold the entire stadium in place.
The crowd, which had been buzzing with restless energy moments before, fell into a reverent stillness. Bocelli’s tenor climbed through the warm Roman air, soaring above the seats, rolling out across the pitch where dancers in white had begun a synchronised routine, their costumes catching the spotlights like falling petals.
The performance built gradually, layer by layer, as a children’s choir emerged from the tunnels, their white robes gleaming as they processed onto the pitch in a long, winding line. They took their positions in formation, their small voices joining Bocelli’s during the chorus, their innocence weaving through the gravitas of his delivery like little angels. Above the stadium, drones lifted off in coordinated formations, painting the dusk sky with patterns of the European flag.
They shifted, reformed, became a football, then the trophy, then the official Euro 2020 logo, before scattering into individual points of light that mimicked the stars beginning to emerge. When Bocelli reached the climactic "Vincerò!", the stadium could no longer contain itself. Sixteen thousand voices joined his on that final word, the Italian crowd belting it as though they were already declaring the result.
Goosebumps rippled through every viewer, in the stadium and out, as the maestro held the note with impressive lung and breath control for a man his age. The orchestra swelled, the children sang, the dancers spun, and somewhere in the distance, the first fireworks cracked into the sky.
~~~
[2021-06-11 | Homeground, Herzogenaurach, Germany | 20:55 CET]
In the common lounge at the DFB base, the German squad was sprawled across couches and armchairs, drinks in hand, eyes glued to the largest of the flat screens. Some had wandered in from dinner, others were already in their compression gear after evening recovery sessions, and a few of the younger ones, Rakim included, had pulled up cushions and parked themselves on the carpet near the screen.
"He’s still got it, hasn’t he?" Müller said from one of the couches, beer bottle in hand—non-alcoholic, of course. "How old is he now?"
"Sixty-two, maybe sixty-three," Kroos answered from beside him, arms folded across his chest as he watched Bocelli’s final note ring out. "Still better than half the artists my daughter listens to."
"Your daughter has good taste, then," Müller teased.
"Shhh," Wirtz waved at them from the floor. "Just enjoy it, you old men."
Rakim chuckled but kept his eyes on the screen. The drones had begun their final descent, and the camera was cutting between the orchestra, the smiling Italian players in the tunnel, and a composed Roberto Mancini on the touchline.
~~~
[Italy V Turkey | 20:00 CET]
"Buonasera, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Stadio Olimpico in Rome," the BBC’s lead commentator, Guy Mowbray, began as the camera panned across the players walking out of the tunnel. "Italy versus Turkey, the opening match of Euro 2020, is finally here after a year-long delay. And what an opening ceremony that was."
"Andrea Bocelli, magnificent as ever," his co-commentator, Jermaine Jenas, added. "And for Italy, who haven’t lost in twenty-seven games under Mancini, this is a chance to set the tone for the tournament on home soil."
Italy lined up in their familiar 4-3-3, Donnarumma in goal, the experienced spine of Bonucci and Chiellini at the back, with Jorginho dictating from deep alongside Locatelli and Barella. Berardi, Immobile, and Insigne formed the front three. Turkey, in contrast, were set up cautiously in a 4-1-4-1, with Çakır between the sticks and Yılmaz isolated up top.
---
Italy: 4-3-3
GK: Donnarumma
LB: Spinazzola CB: Chiellini, Bonucci, RB: Florenzi
CM: Locatelli, Jorginho, Barella
LW: Insigne , ST: Immobile, RW: Berardi
SUB: Giovanni Di Lorenzo, Andrea Belotti, Federico Chiesa, Bryan Cristante, Frederico Bernardeschi, Salvatore Sirigu, Matteo Pessina, Emerson Palmieri, Francesco Acerbi, Giacomo Raspadori, Alessandro Bastoni, Alex Meret.
Manager: R. Mancini
vs
Turkey: 4-1-4-1
GK: Çakır
LB: Çelik, CB: Demiral, Söyüncü, RB: Meraş
CDM: Yokuşlu
LM: Karaman, CM: Tufan, Yazıcı, RM: Çalhanoğlu
ST: Yılmaz
SUB: Cengiz Ünder, İrfan Can Kahveci, Kaan Ayhan, Halil Dervişoğlu, Mert Günok, Dorukhan Toköz, Altay Bayındır, Taylan Antalyalı, Ozan Kabak, Enes Ünal, Orkun Kökçü, Mert Müldür.
Manager: Ş. Güneş
---
(FWEEET!)
The whistle pierced the warm Roman air, and Italy were away, Jorginho immediately demanding the ball from Bonucci. The opening exchanges were dominated by the Azzurri probing patiently while Turkey dropped into two tight banks of five, content to absorb and hope for the counter.
"Italy looking comfortable on the ball already," Mowbray observed as Barella drifted into space between Çelik and Yokuşlu. "Mancini’s side haven’t conceded in over a thousand minutes of football, and you can see why—they’re suffocating Turkey before the visitors have even touched the ball properly."
The first real chance came quickly inside ten minutes, as Insigne cut in from the left onto his magic right foot. He curled an effort toward the top corner that had the small Italian contingent rising from their seats, but Çakır clawed it away spectacularly, tipping it over the bar with strong fingertips.
"Wonderful save from the Turkish keeper!" Jenas exclaimed. "He’s going to be busy tonight, you sense."
Turkey’s first venture forward came shortly after, when Yazıcı won a free kick on the right after Spinazzola was caught dwelling on the ball. Çalhanoğlu stood over it, and the Milan man whipped in a delicious delivery that Yılmaz attacked at the near post. The veteran striker glanced his header just wide, as Donnarumma watched it the whole way.
"Closer than Italy will have liked," Mowbray noted as Yılmaz held his head in his hands. "Burak Yılmaz, at thirty-five, is still a threat from set pieces. Turkey will need more of those."
The deadlock broke on the half-hour mark, and it was a goal that summed up Italy’s afternoon. Berardi charged up the right flank, jinking past Çelik before whipping in a tantalising cross. Demiral, the young Juventus defender, stretched out a desperate leg to intercept and could only divert the ball past his own goalkeeper into the bottom corner.
[Italy 1-0 Turkey - Demiral OG 30’]
"Oh, that’s cruel for the young defender!" Jenas winced as Demiral sank to his knees, head bowed. "The pressure tells, and Italy finally have the breakthrough they’ve been threatening."
"The first goal of Euro 2020, an own goal," Mowbray added. "And Berardi was the architect, even if his name won’t appear on the scoresheet."
Turkey managed to hold out the first half with just one goal conceded and emerged from the break with more fighting spirit. They pushed higher, creating a few chances, looking like they might find a way back into this match. Yokuşlu had a long-range effort beaten away by Donnarumma.
Yılmaz held up play intelligently to bring runners into the game, yet Italy’s defensive maestro Chiellini read every long ball, working with Bonucci to break up their opponents’ rhythm. And then, in the space of seven minutes, Italy suddenly ramped up the tempo, catching their opponent’s apping. Spinazzola, marauding down the left, slipped a clever pass into Immobile, who pierced into the box, beating the offside flag, sending a rifling first-time shot low past Çakır’s outstretched glove.
[Italy 2-0 Turkey - Immobile 66’]
Not satisfied there, they struck again three minutes later, when Insigne collected the ball twenty-five yards out. He faked a shot, sending Söyüncü sliding on the slick surface, then curled a beauty into the far corner with the inside of his right foot.
[Italy 3-0 Turkey - Insigne 69’]
"Now this is a procession," Mowbray declared. "Turkey have been opened up, and Italy are ruthless."
Berardi, having tormented the Turkish right all evening, finally got his goal in stoppage time. Substitute Chiesa dribbled at the heart of the Turkish defence, the ball broke kindly off Demiral’s shin, and Berardi swept it home with a powerful strike.
[Italy 4-0 Turkey - Berardi 90+2’]
(FWEEET! FWEEET! FWEEEEEET!)
"Four-nil to Italy, and what a statement," Jenas said as the Azzurri players gathered in a jubilant huddle near the corner flag. "Twenty-eight matches unbeaten now, and Turkey, who came in with such optimism, will be wondering what hit them."
"A reminder, if any were needed, of why this Italian side is among the favourites," Mowbray concluded. "Mancini’s men have made their claims for the tile with that performance, and the rest of the tournament has been put on notice. Euro 2020 has well and truly begun."
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TO BE CONTINUED...