Why always me? Yeah, why? Mario Balotelli's ability to attract everyone's attention (media, social networks, sports bars) remains an unfathomable mystery. Why do we always talk about him and not about others? Why at the center of our football fantasies and projects is a center forward who has never scored more than 14 goals in a single league and who has a score of 12 goals in 40 games in European competitions?
Perhaps it is for the tweets, or for the many catchphrases released on various social networks, such as the one on Queen Elizabeth's kiss in case of victory against Costa Rica (you know how it ended up). Or for yesterday's outburst, in which Mario rejected all the accusations, showing little capacity for self-criticism, to then comment by saying that Africans (as opposed to Italians) would never dump their brother. Another storm, and other rivers of words to irrigate his name.
Maybe we talk about him for the many women and for his turbulent relationships. Because in today's football the memes and iconic celebrations of racing and goals count more. Because Mario is cool and we have always liked the beautiful and the damned.
Or maybe we're talking about Mario because our football is in crisis and Balotelli is actually the best we have. Or because Balotelli entered our football like an explosion, presenting himself to the world more than 6 years ago, not yet eighteen, with a fantastic brace against Juventus. For his brazenness as a kid that he seemed to be afraid of nothing.
Yet 6 years later (a lifetime for a footballer) we are still here, talking about him as a promise yet to be kept, yet another Godot of our football, with which to fill a few pages of a new story of fall and redemption, telling us always "this is the right time".
While he seems to wind down in a downward spiral. The real mystery, rather than the man, remains the player. Mario is not a striker, he is not a winger, he is not an attacking midfielder. He's not one who maneuvers, he's not one who comes towards and holds the ball, he's not one from the penalty area, he's not one who jumps the man. He's someone who shoots when he can, when they leave him the time and space to do it, and he does it well, but when he has the ball at his feet he never gives the feeling of danger that the grown-ups give, the ones you always think that they can hurt you, at any moment.
Prandelli bet all his chips on him and lost. It was an irresponsible gamble, perhaps, and this is probably why the senators have not forgiven the coach, leading him to resign. The next blue cycle, whoever will be at the helm, will hardly have Mario Balotelli as their guiding star.
