Euro 2012: Spain vs Italy

"Fuckers, get out of the way."

That pretty much summed up what the people in Rome and pretty much the rest of Italy were feeling that day. We sidestepped and made way for the young lad dressed in a green jersey, probably around his mid twenties. He made a grunt and stormed past us.

The general mood is a juxtaposition to what we witnessed hours ago. I was heading down with two of my friends to Circo Massimo. It was the Euro 2012 final and I found out online that people will be heading there to watch the game outdoors on huge screens.

Two hours before kickoff, the subway was already packed with people. Everyone was trying to push their way into the train. It could not leave the station. People quickly realised this and started to make for the exits and find their way via other means. We needed no directions. It was obvious that everyone was heading in a specific direction. All we had to do was follow the crowd. We hopped on a bus filled with people in green jerseys along with the red, white and green stripes painted across their faces. When they got off the bus, we followed suit.

Circo Massimo is this massive area which used to be the place where ancient Roman chariot races took place. It seemed to be brought back to life by the roar of the crowd and people streaming in by the thousands. I reckoned that a good portion of Rome was there that evening. Even earlier in the afternoon, many shops and restaurants were noticeably closed. There can only be two reasons; the sabbath or the Euro final. The latter seemed more probable.

We perched ourselves on high ground, which gave us a panoramic view of the whole scene. You can see hundreds of people waving the national flag. I made a quick scan around the area, trying to single out the odd person in red. I could not point them out but I'm sure that they are out there somewhere, maybe even silently supporting their Spanish countrymen under the guise of a neutral coloured t-shirt. 

The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement. Especially with the way Italy played against Germany two days ago, I would be extremely optimistic as well. Walking around the city, you are constantly bombarded with replays of Balotelli taking off his shirt and striking that pose after scoring his second goal. In Sorrento, one of the gelato shops even named an ice-cream after him the next day. It was some sort of dark chocolate flavour. 

I headed down the slopes and right into the crowd. The national anthem came on and people were thrown into a frenzy. Something about a multitude of people singing together sent shivers down my spine. People were lighting up flares and smoke covered the field like mist. About five meters to my right I noticed an empty area, which I found strange because it was packed everywhere else. I got closer and I found out why. A group of lads have started a mosh pit of sorts. They were half naked, sweaty and obviously drunk. The crowd moved away, forming something that resembles a circle around them. I saw parents motioning their children to move away from that ruckus.

The positive vibe did not last long. Ten minutes into the game, Spain scored. I was initially confused because there was such indifference amongst the crowd it made me wonder if the goal was legit. It was. That slow motion montage of the player in red pumping his fist in the air confirmed my fears. Everything went downhill from that point. By halftime Spain secured another goal and people started to leave. I was honestly rooting for Italy. Had they won, it would have been amazing experiencing the victory celebrations.

I heard from some friends in Madrid and apparently it was crazy. People were celebrating on the streets; singing the victory tune and honking the night away. Wished that I was on the winning side. Oh well. Awkward.