Football clubs have one president, mine had seven. Trustable people, professionals. Parmesan.

Football clubs have one presidents, mine had seven. Partners, guarantors, friends. Parmesan.

Football clubs have one president and now, mine, too. American, stranger. Forestér, like all of us.

I write while I cry, I write wondering about a lost football, that will never come back. I think that I would prefer go on like this, cuddled by my seven presidents, one better than the other, pride of an entire Town and fan base. Those who rebound the Club and brought it form serie D to where it deserves to be. Those who protected, team and town, from ill-intentioned and that waited and waited that the right moment came to deliver their creature into the right hands. And they did it for Love, don’t tel me I’m wrong. They did it for Love. 

The same Love that a father needs to bring his daughter to the altar. I can barely imagine how hard it could have been and I damn it.

Damn this football that took away from me the best seven presidents I could ever desire. I had the dream they could last forever but it was not possible.

I would hug them one by one and cry on their shoulders. I would tell them thank you for the work, the passion, the love. Scream it in Curva Nord, together with fellows and friends. Scream all my pride for what we re and what they did , that we have been a Force, together. Scream to who will come after that he is welcome, if he will respect our history and if he will have the patience to understand who and what we are. 

It cant be differente for us, that first we tasted what means – as forestér – to be welcomed by Parma Family.

But for tonight, I still damn this football that took away the best seven presidents I could ever desire. I had a dream. And tonight I don’t want to fall asleep because I know that tomorrow it will end.

Seven times THANK YOU.