Upon my return to Manhattan from Giant's Stadium in the Meadowlands I decided to go over to my aunt Sarah's house, with whom I would share a pizza and tell her all about how I had seen Italy beat Bulgaria and earn their passage in to the final which would be against either Brazil or Sweden. With Sarah, being one of the few people I knew living in Manhattan at the time it was only naturally that I would stop by her house specially since she too was of Italian descent given her last name of ?Romano?.



Naturally by then it was too late to see this second semifinal between Sweden and Brazil, which I had programmed my VCR to record and would be watching that night, in order not only to see it but to study who would be Italy's rival in the final. Of course I would also be watching, Italy vs. Bulgaria; for a second time just to see if I had missed any details from my seat which was rather far from the action.

My mood was still high, after having seen Italy beat Bulgaria and all I could think about was how great it had felt to see Italy make to another final. I wore my Italian shirt with pride and carried my Italian flag likewise as I walked down the streets of New York and it was with this enthusiasm that I entered the pizzeria across the street from Sarah's apartment building. The owner of this particular establishment being a fellow Italian, who unlike me was born in the old country; in a city called Napoli and needless to say was a fan of AS Napoli as opposed to me who was one of AC Milan. This however on that occasion mattered not for we all backed the same team.

It is till this day that I remember the ecstatic joy which I walked in to this Italian place with and the great enthusiasm we talked about the final which by then we knew full well would be against; fellow football giant and adversary, Brazil. Who would mark Romario? Was a key question which most fans asked, though with Sacchi's strategies, chances were a well planed zone defense was the answer. Of course there was also the question; who would play for the suspended Costacurta? Would Franco Baresi be back for the final; to captain our team? This was what we, the fans of Italy had on our minds or at least most of us though perhaps the issue which was of greatest concern was the question of weather or not Roberto Baggio, would be fit for the final?

Baggio, after all had been our inspiration and arguably the man most responsible for getting us as far as we had gone and yet he had been seriously injured against Bulgaria, to the point of having to be carried of the field. These were problems which would have been big against any team in a world cup final but this was not any team; this was Brazil (3 time winners, once runners up, twice 3rd place, once 4th place) but we were Italy.

Another great team with our own story of greatness that also included three world cup titles, along with being once runner up, once third place and once fourth place; all leading to the fact that we did not have to take a back seat to anybody as far as calcio was concerned and this we knew well that a good chance of winning we definitely had, despite our hardships.

After a nice chat and having ordered a pizza pie and lasagna, which I got to go I went over to Sarah's; where much to my delight and surprise I found the ?Three Tenors? concert was about to begin. It was Pavarotti, Carreras and above all Domingo, who would be performing, and for the first time as the ?Three Tenors? where before they had done so only using their individual names but now they would be doing it as group. My favorite tenor had always been and still is Domingo yet, on that day I was more partial to Pavarotti. This due to the fact that he was the only one of the three who was Italian and in perhaps a strange way as far as I could see represented Italy's chances of winning in a final that would take place in that very city where they were performing. Pavarotti's, voice so strong; making its way to the huge audience, some how getting through the night air that was this place called ?Dodger Stadium? and to those like me listening around the world. Pavarotti that night in a way sang for Italy, pushing them on to victory, as his voice somehow managed to raise above all as we had done to get to the final.

It was a great concert in LA which I have literally heard thousands of times since but it meant so much to me that night, as they went through classics such as ?Nesun Dorma? from Puccini's Turandot or ?La Donna E Mobile? from Verdi's Rigoletto to songs from all over the world. All in a celebration not only of football or opera but of the music that was the one pertaining to all of humanity. So many songs that brought back memories, which I will mention none, as I do not wish to leave any out and yet it almost did not matter which songs were performed for what really did was that for that one concert and time; the world seemed to be one. It was as if the voices of these three greats plus Zubin Mehta and the Los Angeles philharmonic were doing more then playing for the whole world but representing them in what had ceased to be Italian or Brazilian or German or American music but that of the people of the world.