Fan of life

I met Luca many years ago, during a Varese Calcio championship match. At the time the team was fighting to move up in category and he never missed a match. Equipped with a red and white scarf and hat, he waved to me from the sidelines and his tired gesture struck me. I had just finished greeting the fans, and I was still euphoric from the splendid goal in the ninetieth minute which had left the opponents high and dry. Sporting rivalry does not allow for middle ground, even more so if the result of the match is "stolen" at the last second, indeed, in this case the enjoyment expands infinitely for us true fans. Of course, as long as it never leads, and without any exception, to violence or other ignoble acts!

But the teasing of the moment is real physical lust. In short, that day I decided to join that boy sitting in his wheelchair on the sidelines who was waving his arms to call me. Luca suffered from a pathology that no doctor, anywhere in the world, has ever understood. A sort of incurable degenerative disease that had no name and had never affected anyone except him. That boy was the world exclusivist of a bacterium without identity, or if you prefer of a killer virus, the fact is that he welcomed him with the trust of someone who gives up part of his house to a serial murderer, without ever judging him, but only trying to show him what beautiful and good things he could give him, and with the sole aim that he would then leave, thanking him for his hospitality and never being seen again. Maybe even changing into something equally good. When I reached out to introduce myself, his puny arm struggled to carry his hand towards mine, and his fingers refused to tell the true strength of his master.
I don't know how much he weighed, maybe forty, forty-five kilos, but even that took second place compared to the gigantic determination that his eyes revealed. Every two words he took a breath of pure air coming from an oxygen tank, and which was sucked greedily by a mask that found no fixed position on the fleshless facial bones. Even the way he sat showed the lack of any muscles necessary to support him, and his clothes, which seemed to be several sizes too large, highlighted this unnatural thinness even more. That day we talked about football; of the game stolen at the last second; of the coach who, according to both of us, would have made us lose the championship; but also of life. Yes, of life. Luca lived with a sort of obsession with life. He wanted to live it, enjoy it, be the protagonist. It didn't matter if he was forced to be pushed by his father (... a man who sacrificed everything for his son) to reach a restaurant, a market, a meeting place, a stadium, he had to be there. And, even more, he was willing to endure days of terrible suffering, just to dedicate a few hours to anyone who he felt might need it.

After our first meeting, we became friends and we shared fundraisers, charity events, social actions that he loved to underline were necessary for the survival of others. Not of his survival, but of that of others. Everything was thin in Luca but not his heart. One day I asked him how he managed to have such an engaging strength, and his answer was no different from those I had the pleasure of hearing in many other extreme situations like Luca's; of people who suffer but continue to give of themselves, who fight and don't ask for discounts: «You know Max, I know well that I'm never alone! And it's not up to me to understand why this thing happened to me, my job is to live life with all my strength, praising everything about it and giving thanks for every extra day that is granted to me. And if in this period I can also make other people feel good, it was certainly worth it."

A few days ago Luca breathed for the last time from his oxygen tank, and I am convinced that he did so without any regrets, like a lion who knows well the rules of the savannah, where the most strong always gets the better of the wounded animal, but also knowing that as a conscious man, equipped with intellect and ability to discern, he had the possibility to choose everything about his life. That life for which he fought, suffered, but also rejoiced and loved. And believe me, meeting him was a great honor for me.


Max Laudadio
NP December 2023