We remember Vincenzo Paparelli
Posted 28 Oct '05, 8:04 AM
In memory of Vincenzo Paparelli
My name is Vincenzo Paparelli, and I died on October 28th 1979. Perhaps someone still remembers me. I was a man of thirty-three years who was killed one day at the Olympic stadium by a distress rocket fired by a Roma ultra supporter. I was eating a sandwich when I was hit. My wife Wanda tried to pull out that iron tube from my left eye, but as the flare was still burning, she just ended up burning her hand. The doctor who brought me first aid declared that he had never before witnessed such a severe wound, not even in war. The next day, all newspapers published a photograph taken a month earlier, of my wife and myself in a restaurant. Only the daily paper Il Tempo published a picture showing me laying on the ground, my face covered in blood, my left eye socket empty. I was the second victim of football violence in Italy, before myself a Salernitana supporter had died in 1963 as a result of clashes in the stands with supporters from Potenza.
Of all the sports personalities, the first to rush to the Santo Spirito hospital where I had been taken, dead by now, was CONI President Franco Carraro. When my brother-in-law heard my name on the radio he first thought they were talking about someone who had the same name as I. My brother had a strong sense of guilt when he learnt of my misfortune because he had leant me his season ticket, and that day it should have been him in the stadium instead of me. My wife who was beside me in the ambulance, held my hand tight and prayed for me not to die the entire time. After having finished all the formalities in the police headquarters and collected my personal documents and objects, she had a crisis and began to yell. On the photos that appeared in newspapers the following days, she is shown next to her mother who tries to console her, arms around her shoulder. She has a tired and hollow face, and there is a terrible look in her eyes.
Following my homicide, my name and that one my relatives appeared on the daily paper for the following week and the next, with diminishing prominence. I was unanimously defined as a normal and calm man with a single passion, that for Lazio. Some daily papers emphasized more than once that I owned a mechanical workshop together with my brother and lived in a modern roman neighbourhood, Mazzalupo. Someone wrote that I had bought a color television set on credit, and my only luxury was a second hand BMW that I kept in a garage and polished like a mirror.
After my death, Lazio captain Pino Wilson phoned my wife to extend his condolences. Rome mayor Petroselli also called and offered to pay my funeral expenses and put a social worker at my family’s disposition. The player Lionello Manfredonia paid my relatives a visit and gave my youngest son his jersey with the number five. The entire Lazio squad was present at my funeral, next to coach Bob Lovati and president Lenzini. The Roma players did not participate as they were away on Coppa Italia duty against Potenza, so in their place the club sent the boys from the Primavera. A thousand people took part in the funeral ceremony and that day was declared a day of mourning in the whole city. The Luciano Re Cecconi Foundation donated a million to my family. The Lazio regional council allocated the sum of five million as a sign of solidarity. The Società Sportiva Roma erected a tablet in the Curva Nord as a memory of my person.
My brother Angelo proposed that the two Roman clubs play a match with Lazio and Roma players mixed in the two line-ups, but in the end nothing came of it. For some days I was the subject of a heated debate about violence in the football stadiums. The mayor of Rome stressed that everyone needed to reflect over this tragedy and that it needed to be discussed within all sports clubs as well as in the s
想灌就灌~不要问时间~就算分不清黑夜白天~至少我还能够每天都和你连线~~~~~~`想灌就灌~不要问时间~就算熬出黑眼圈~~~~~~~`相信总有一天能看见你微笑的脸
