Floris: "Me, Roma-Liverpool, and that incredible match in Tirana. In the future? I hope to coach."

He loves football deeply. A genuine and all-encompassing passion that transcends his equally intense passion for Roma. So much so that Giovanni Floris, journalist, writer, and longtime host of diMartedì on La7, has also been a full-fledged coach since last January, having earned a B license at Coverciano.

He talks about football as a value that goes far beyond the pitch.

"For me, football isn't just a passion, it's a perspective. It's a way of interpreting things that happen to you. For me, it was like knowing how to speak English; it allowed me to connect with the world. And it helped me grow."

“No. My father was from Nuoro, and as kids we supported Cagliari, so that team has remained in my heart. But I was born in Rome, my friends were Roma fans, and it was the era of Liedholm, Falcao, and Bruno Conti... I soon ended up in the Curva Sud. And over time, my father also began to look at Roma with different eyes.”

Did he just cheer or did he also play?

“I played as a center forward or a winger. Casale Rocchi, Artiglio, Santa Francesca Cabrini… teams from eastern Rome, pozzolana pitches cracked by the sun or turned to swamp by the rain. True 1980s football. Was I good? Let's put it this way: as a child, I played everywhere, in my bedroom, on the street, in the hallways at school. I always had a ball at my feet; in the end, anyone could have learned.”

"Rarely, at the expense of my knees and back. But I've become a coach: when I retire, I hope to find a good youth or junior team."

With a B license he could coach up to Serie D or be a technical assistant in Serie A.

"Let's not exaggerate! Just getting back on the pitch would be enough for me. Football is my life. And my memories."

“I'd start from the 1980s. The Italy of '82, the team cohesion and determination that allow you to win against those stronger than you. Then Roma's Scudetto, the European Cup final against Liverpool. We entered the Curva Sud in the morning, leaving school early. I remember the ticket with the king of cups printed on it... a friend of mine had drawn it with the Cariocas, and they let him in anyway. The day ended late at night, singing "Grazie Roma" at the Venditti concert. "A night of dreams, of European Cups..." I was 16, 17... how can you forget a day like that? The football of the 1980s is what shaped my generation. Anything can happen: you can win the World Cup or lose the European Cup in the final, but it's always worth trying."

The 90s were different.

"Tangentopoli, Berlusconi, Prodi's Ulivo... everything changes. But in football, for me, these are the Carlo Mazzone years. A brilliant coach: skill and feeling. A true leader can't do without empathy for others."

Let's stick to the coaches. Let's give you a few names: José Mourinho.

Mourinho marks a turning point, brings back enthusiasm, rekindles a city. My friends and I started buying season tickets again: the Tribuna Tevere on the side, more appropriate for my age, but we can still sing. I was in Tirana for the Conference final, a ticket given to me by my son, who had been "drawn" from among the season ticket holders who had entered a competition. Next to me, in the stands, I found my high school friend, the one I had gone to the Roma-Liverpool match with 38 years earlier. Only football can work miracles like this.

“A great coach, a future great coach.”

“Exceptional. He understands people, he knows how to manage their minds. The rest comes naturally.”

"He's convincing, I believe in him. His attitude reminds me of Fabio Capello, a great coach who helped the team and the environment mature."

Speaking of Capello, we haven't yet commented on the 2001 Scudetto.

The year I got married, every table was named after a Roma player. The newlyweds at the Totti table, their Lazio friends at the Paolo Negro table, the white-and-blue defender who scored an own goal in the derby. That year, everything happened. The G8 in Genoa, the Twin Towers, correspondence from the US. As soon as we got married, we moved to America. In New York, we saw the 5-1 win over Lazio, Montella's poker. I thought of my friends in Rome and said: What am I doing here? A few months later, Ballarò began.

He spoke about Spain '82. Since then, it seems that Italians' passion for the national team, especially young people, has changed.

The national team works when we feel like a nation, when we believe in the idea of a united country. The patriotic rhetoric propagated by politicians is useless. Football is about being a team: the team that opposes the strongest, not follows it. You can't be a team, or a collective, if you don't help the weakest, if you don't sacrifice yourself for others. We should rewatch Monicelli's "The Great War" to understand who we are. It was comedy that taught us who Italians are: imperfect but inspired citizens. Aspiring to the best that can be achieved, here and now, match after match. Gattuso is certainly a tough man and a skilled coach. I hope he knows how to bring out the best in our identity. Italians feel strong in times of need, when there's risk involved. And right now we're taking a lot of risks, in every area.