For only or almost voice. For thirty years Bruno Pizzul was a voice, friend: for 16 it was the official voice of Italy chasing a blue jersey ball and in shorts. For that voice an Italy passed to conquer the world, in some way: the same Italy of which Winston Churchill had to say that he went to the war as in the football match and the football match as in the ocer.
Ironically, the polite voice of Pizzul, surname Friullanissimo of Cormons even if Udine was born, did not have time to tell directly, on the commentary, none of those conquests: in 1982 there was but it was so to speak “reserve”, in 2006, the first World Cup of the without Pizzul, had left the place to Marco Civoli with his pension.
In Spain he touched the story of the World Cup of the other teams: he went from Elche to Seville, from Malaga to Barcelona. Italy was the fiefdom of Nando Martellini, Bruno Pizzul would have inherited him at the next edition that bad luck of Mexico 1986. And someone still wonders – without thinking that his style would have prevented him -, if in Friulian, he had been in tow of the Azzurri, he would have managed to break the press silence creating a feeling in “Marilenghe”, as the Friulians call their mother tongue, with Zoff and Bearzot. His last world Italy was in 2002 in Korea, a geometric place of the defeats where the blue turned into the darkness. In the middle the magical nights, those so very close to his voice.
2006, however, as he told a Christian family, It had been the first time, in which he had managed to enjoy “the world championship in his entirety, as a total phenomenon, after a life spent seeing only the games I had to do with the commentary. We should remember on the commentary that often the watches have the feeling, sometimes founded, to know more than those who speak. Often those who are in the armchair has seen all the other games, while you see more in -depthly one aspect ».
He was not missing all that peregrin, who lived without ever having taken his driver’s license for laziness, in which he had put a calm passion: “I have left”, he told on the sidelines of a more recent world championship in which he was recently rest, “a little regret for the tight rhythms that prevented me from seeing how much I wanted to the piece of the world in which I was. Especially in the seventies, Before globalization intervened, abroad, especially the European est, was really intriguing: you really saw another world, Truly different people. The hotels were not used to proposing international menus, globalized too. Sometimes you had to overcome the instinctive distrust of terribly different habits and foods and tastes. Much counted a passion for football: without passion it would have been a effort and a boredom ».
It was, his, a passion held for professionalism, a distant heat heat, so as not to lose the sobriety necessary for those who must tell, with Italy, a thread of elegant transport was allowed with Italy, it did not recognize itself so much, not even as a spectator in the agitated telechronache of recent times, where the excitement of the voices sometimes seem to feel compelled to make up for what does not happen in the field: “Today,” he said, “we are looking for the commentary tailored for the fan spectator, partly exasperatedly, especially on paid TVs, where the user can even choose a part of the party. A little emotional transport was admitted to the Rai of my times only for the national team, but never an evidently partisan commentary. Indeed, the impartiality in those days was considered a value, a sign of professionalism and even those who had sympathy for a team or a clear passion for certain colors, they did their best in order not to let it in any way shine “. Only long afterwards did he confide alongside a heartfelt and practiced Crisitian faith, an old grenade heart.
Graduated in Law, owner of a rich and refined language, Pizzul had given the commentary a style even linguisticwhich made him recognizable not only from the stamp but without ever giving in to affection. He knew it was important to make people understand, help those who looked to interpret the action without ever overlooking it.
As a grandfather of a dozen grandchildren, he did not regret that they were not very interested in football. He advised them to give themselves to other sports: he did not take them to the stadium, which he considered a “not very reassuring” environment.
Just at the stadium he had experienced the most difficult of the telechronache, which had marked him, in 1985, on the night of Heysel. The re -enactment also lived with unease: “For me”, he wrote on FC twenty years later, “the only word evokes anguished sensations, a discomfort that concerns the sphere of consciousness, the human aspect. Twenty years have passed since that terrible night in which, for a game of ball, there were 39 deaths and an infinite trail of pain. I confess a constant sense of embarrassment when I am urged to remember what happens, also because, in full good faith, a professional testimony is asked. And instead Within me, only the dismay for the absurd tragedy remained, the unacceptable feeling that there had been dead and wounded, mourning and tears in a context that, despite the overexcitation that often characterizes the sporty cheering, should have been celebrating, sharing a recreational moment».
Even those who told touched up to upset the irons of the trade, improvise almost a different one, the subject of reporters to the front: «I remember, for example, how much it cost me to decide not to make the microphone speak the few who, having reached the location, asked me to be able to let the relatives know that they were alive, that they had done it: It was very hard to ban that natural desire to reassure mothers, wives or friends; But I decided, I do not know if rightly or wrongly, that if I had activated that kind of improvised and in any case partial radio-television bridge, I would have involuntarily contributed to throwing the thousands of mothers, wives or friends in the coast and anguish to which no message could be received reassuring staff ».
Of the not caught inheritance of that night he regretted: «A lot has been talked about, often in terms of raw journalistic reconstruction. Responsibilities have been identified, accusations of all kinds have been formulated. But, I repeat, I believe that it would be appropriate above all to use those painful memories to understand how it is essential to accompany your sporting passion with the equipment of tolerance, of good education, of the awareness that the stadiums are places at risk “, a hope that admitted fallen into the void.
Di Calcio still spoke willingly, perhaps recalling in public on the summer nights of the world of others. But he knew he belong to another world, to another time, to another style. That he did not need to claim, nor to exhibit, because it was his style of man before the commentator.
