The beautiful tears of Ibra

It is always worthwhile to greet with gratitude someone who has made us live beautiful moments, and enjoy a great game which is football. And they are really useless boogers all those shot by certain fans who have dedicated teasing and even insults for a cup not won, or for a change of colors and banks of the Naviglio. Zlatan Ibrahimovic he was not only a star player, but one of the most beautiful players to watch for many years, 988 games and 573 goals. He made many teams win, he didn’t make it with his Sweden, but maybe he never loved one.

Unlike many champions, he has always been a mercenary captain, a “free lance” at the service of his temporary kings. And when she was on duty, she gave everything. A loner, who had built that armor from “God of football”, from “I am Ibra”, perhaps to protect himself from that being of no one and no people. If he has now really found his “family,” he said, in his latest team of him, good for him. On Sunday in front of the San Siro audience he was moved, tears in his eyes and his voice broken. Him, the stainless warrior. And he may not have won the cup and the golden balls, but basically those tears, that greeting, are better than ending up spending the winter forgotten by the god of football in the desert, for a few million.

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• Maurice Crippa

• “Maurizio Crippa, deputy director, was born in Milan on a February 27th of swallows and spring. It was 1961. He grew up in Monza, his hometown, but for more than twenty years he has been a proud metropolitan Milanese. He attended classical high school and graduated in Cinema History, his first love. Then there are the loves of a lifetime: Inter, the mountains, Jannacci and Neil Young. He works in the Milan editorial office and deals with a little of everything: politics, culture when he can, church when he wants. He is happy to have two great Popes, Francis and Benedict. He hasn’t written books (“why write ugly new books when there are still so many good old books to read?” Sandro Fusina taught.) He has long pursued the dream of knowing how to use social media, but then, thank God, he repents.

  He is in charge of the weekly page of the GranMilano sheet, he writes Against Mastro Ciliegia every day on the first page. He has a wife, Emilia, and two sons, Giovanni and Francesco, who are no longer children”