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| Many wished a better
prolongation even if made of pains, strong emotions but nevertheless winning
at the end. Instead it lasted less than five hours the great Italian hope
to lift the most prestigious world cup. As much as an evil tendon, worn
down by an excessive use tore and Andrea Gaudenzi our number one, gives
up, on the finishing straight in the opening match against Scandinavians.
In few minutes the pandemonium expressly created by the 13.000 unrestrained
fans at the Forum of Assago turns into an icy field, where the bull instead
of being killed find its way to survive. Magnus Norman, the Swedish number
two, in this occasion rival of the Faenza player, lived without any doubt
the longer afternoon of his life. Not only as regards to the agonistic
engagement, but rather for his state of mind and characterial reactions.
So, first predestined victim, the rebel colt. And he gets to a match ball
in the fifth decisive set, when already Gaudenzi seems to have exhausted
his strength. Here the hand of the young Scandinavian tremble maybe too
much and the staggering human wave of the Forum scent the moment,
bringing again the azure afloat. From 0-4 to 4-5. Then even 6-5. And here
the disaster. An ace of Andrea who crowns with a peremptory gesture, after
struggling for hours, an historical chasing. Suddenly instead of trotting
toward the bench to recover vitamin drops in view of the final rush, Andrea
drops, holding up his shoulder. There's immediately worry, since the Italian
has just been through an operation to the right arm. Captain Bertolucci,
disbelieving as the climber in view of the expected finishing post , suddenly
disappearing, calls for an immediate consultation physicians and physiotherapists;
but neither the better African witch doctor can give Gaudenzi back the
use of the shoulder.
A slashed tendon prevents him from even lifting a bottle of water: out of respect for the public, the team and himself, Andrea tries the same to cross rackets again with the Swedish, getting only grimaces of pain and the embarrassing inability to push ball at the slightest acceptable speed. Our Davis, the azure dream, jealously kept and nursed for more than two months, ends practically here, at 19.05 o'clock on Friday 4th , first of the three hypothetical days would mark the 1998 edition. The azure group losses its most representative and charismatic player and collapses as a groggy. Davide Sanguinetti in the second single match is overcome by the expert Gustaffson in 3 matches. And in the Saturday double the extempore couple Nargiso-Sanguinetti struggle only in the first set against the Nordic duo Bjorkman-Kulti, before being stunned by the craft of one of the most working well together teams in the circuit. 0 to 3 and all is over. The chronicle notices it after Bjorkman places the umpteenth winning replay and gives his country the seventh Davis Cup of history. Really all is over when the Gaudenzi's service twirl makes the Forum passing from the most unrestrained excitation to the most gloomy worry and then to the deepen bitterness for the inability of keeping on playing the match, recaptured and ready to be won. The prophetic words of Bertolucci the day before the match sounds as a posthumous mockery. "We are at the 50% possibilities to win over Swedish! It will take heart and a bit of luck ". The volt-face of the blind goddess was heavier than the Gaudenzi's spirit of a lion. Goodbye until next time. Yes , but since our stricken and even more political and less technical tennis federation, until when? |
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