I wonder if that day, in coordination, the great Gabriel has also tried recourse, to that air saturated with wisteria and arrogance that comes down from bell and vaulted ceilings with frescoes that inspired the hill and the clouds fade into blue. When he arrived, still had the raw smell of the grass and his face was too young gaucho team not to arouse mistrust between the admirers of statues.
The way to handle the ball was no different bitter accent with which they expressed in interviews, over time, have learned to touch more elegance, to distract the straight line that seemed the quickest way to join the legs to network.
No one can ever tell if the pampas was also led that set of rules by which the soul uncertain staged operas at the beginning of each summer, tempted by the victories that could never have been understood in Florence.
For a long time, the hardening of his blood had to prevail, if the start of the season saw him appear out of shape and emaciated even with mesh purple and captaincy, but then, inexplicably, as it was reduced as a bear out of hibernation-began again to score, with the same ease with which the volcanoes explode, collapse landslides, avalanches slip downstream.
Mind you, there was the elegance of Van Basten, neither the robbery of Inzaghi, not the tactical sense of Milito, rather there was something that could be defined as a need carrying the ball beyond the doors, wherever it is found, whatever the price, in terms of effort, courage or imagination. Look here
, true that Tudor is a mummy, but the fact remains that he feels his breath coming, you see how to bend the back, the wave arrives impact. Then he stays in the air, and explodes a real frenzy. That year was 1998/1999, Batistuta gave the impressive pace, until he gave up his knee early in the second round, defeating the hopes of championship Fiorentina. Then they sent him on the pitch, almost like a kind of totem about a week after surgery, such as going to ski three hours after pneumonia, and he scored a goal from heel to Piacenza, games played with one leg.
Listen, the year after, the commentator. The voice is that of an ordinary share and does not heat the uvula to the solo, which in fact comes out as a sob. From there, there, in that way, you can not score, it is absolutely contrary to the laws of nature, until proven otherwise. Gabriel Omar Batistuta
was sometimes evidence to the contrary.
When he moved to Rome, crying behind a facade in Florence thought they gave him a worm-eaten relic. Maybe it was true, but not worms or termites played one of his legendary first round (on the whole, perhaps stands out the shotgun in the house of Parma, whose door was still Buffon, absolutely amazing).
was also the day when it came to meet with Fiorentina, and the inevitable happened. Not because Fiorentina had, and has a particular predisposition to suffer the goal of ex (this year the remarkable double-Semioli Pazzini Fiorentina-Sampdoria in: only that there was no marked Zauri), but because, as a necessity of course, the manifested in a moment all the past, came back as hard as he had put in pitches thrown in his typical expand outside after having pretended to the inside in the run up to the Fiesole, where a statue dedicated to him too much love, or is it just that Florence can not distinguish between life and brochure of museums.
So he left that incredible shot, that shot normal, because the ball was yet once to go beyond the doors (as you can see, between the word "Batista" and scream "goal " the commentator goes a very long time). That day, the great Gabriel saw the love of a lifetime down under his blows, he bent and laid his pink teeth.
Arturo
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