Allegri’s soulless Napoli

It remains unclear how Massimiliano Allegri is coping with the wait. It is uncertain whether the picture before him is static or in motion, and it is unclear whether everything being reported is true or embellished. However, Napoli, amidst a thousand doubts—including ideological ones (Allegri has by now become an ideology in himself)—is slowly spinning in the usual maelstrom of misunderstandings, vices and shallow thinking. The team is not running, and when it does, it runs slowly. The players each seem to belong to their own little world, where performance doesn’t depend on their relationship with others, but on a very personal balance sheet. I run, I shoot and I score; I run, I don’t shoot and I don’t score. Or I run, I attack the space behind the defence – as everyone says these days – but I don’t track back, or perhaps I do, but in the meantime…

Here is Napoli’s performance summarised in a few lines, omitting the gossip fuelled by highly imprudent remarks – the sort one does not usually hear in public. They say that Anguissa never speaks and minds his own business. They say that De Bruyne, with his baton always raised high, is on the verge of slipping, just as happened to Franco Ferrara – perhaps the greatest conductor of all time – who would fall off the podium due to the overwhelming emotions he felt during his performances. Then again, if only that were the reason: emotion.

Napoli no longer seem to be seeking that thrill. And what becomes of a team if it has no emotion to express, no soul to reveal? When I speak of ‘waiting’, in Allegri’s case, I am referring to his presence before the bench, whilst the jury returns for a verdict that nevertheless seems a foregone conclusion. De Laurentiis, in choosing the Tuscan, took a huge risk, entrusting him with a team that bears no resemblance to him whatsoever. From the outset, Napoli have defended poorly, showing little awareness of danger, and attacked even less effectively, improvising sluggishly. Now they all seem to be missing Conte, although some were at loggerheads with him even last season. Perhaps Napoli needed a fresh start, seeking out players with a different attitude, proud to wear the blue shirt. Perhaps De Laurentiis should have listened to the city for once. This is not usually the right thing to do, and it is something the owner has never done. Yet Naples is a city unlike any other, a place where the sun blends with the moon, and a single word stirs a thousand sounds. In Naples, one never sleeps; one does not speak just one language; one cannot live without the team, but seeks in football a way of being, of belonging. Napoli belongs to Naples, whilst the world belongs to no one.