by Susan Toscan
Savina also worried about Giovanni as she knew that he and his friends were daredevils. She had overheard the young girls in the village talking about them. “Have you seen Giovanni Cattuzzo and his friends? My parents say that they’re all a bit wild riding those fast motorbikes. But I think they are so cute!”
“How handsome is Giovanni!” one pretty girl commented. “He smiled at me the other day.”
Savina walked by quickly so the girls would not think she was listening to them. She was suddenly aware that even though she only saw Giovanni as her baby brother, he was, in fact, a very good-looking young man who obviously had a few admirers.
She tried to talk to her brother. Savina did not want to lecture him as she knew that he had had enough of that from their parents.
“Giovanni, do you think that you and your friends could find some other fun activities? Perhaps something a little less risky than the motorbikes?” She spoke cautiously, watching for his reaction. “You know that I often see you all kicking a soccer ball around. What would you think about forming a team and getting back into training?”
Giovanni looked at his sister. “You mean have a real competition again?”
“Yes, little brother, why not?”
The young man seemed to like the idea, and his enthusiasm was growing. “I suppose we could have a go. We were only saying the other day that there hadn’t been any organised soccer games in the area for ages.”
“Well, in fact, not since before the war—and you know what—wouldn’t it be great to get a team together again? Give the community something to look forward to.” Savina was getting caught up in the possibilities. This could be just what the boys needed.
Prior to the war, Savina was not that interested in soccer so it was ironic that it was she and her sisters working to get the local people to support the young men in playing their country’s national game again. To Savina’s enormous relief, Giovanni remained enthusiastic about the idea and discussed it with his friends. They were all keen to play. Most of them had kept up their soccer skills, and they loved the idea of participating in a competition.
Once Savina had got people talking about it, it soon became obvious that the whole village wanted to be involved. Everyone recognised that the young men needed a positive activity as an outlet for their energy. The former village soccer field had been turned into a farm during the war, but now that so many of the farms were back to full production, the people of Cavaso decided it would be a good time to return the sporting field to its original use. It did not take long for Giovanni and his friends to form a team.
They were soon training under the guidance of a local man, Pasquale De Salvo, who had been an assistant coach to the most successful Italian team in history, Turin. Almost the whole team had only recently been killed in a tragic plane crash, and Pasquale was still in a state of shock. The aircraft had come down in a thunderstorm while they were returning to the team’s home city. Only a couple of days before the accident, Pasquale and two members of the team had been stricken with a bad flu that prevented them from joining that fateful flight. After the tragedy, Pasquale had returned to his hometown of Cavaso. Training the boys gave him an opportunity to get back to doing what he loved, but he still was not ready to return to national league competitions.
Word got around, and soon the neighbouring villages were keen to set up a match against the Cavaso boys. This idea proved to be so popular that even the old men had a bounce in their step again. Soccer had been a big part of their lives prior to the war, and it felt good to know that it was part of their future.
Gradually the atmosphere in this little pocket of northern Italy changed from one of depression and sadness into one of optimism charged with energy and enthusiasm.
The first match would be played on the repaired soccer field in early April 1949, even though it was late in the season to start a competition and the weather was getting increasingly warm. The coach estimated that they could play for approximately six weeks before the weather got too hot to continue. That would be a good period of time to give all of the teams a chance to compete, and then the two strongest teams could play against each other in the final match. In turn, this would be an excellent excuse for a special celebration. It had been a very long time since the villagers had had something to celebrate, and everyone was excited to be part of the preparation.
Italy: Games and risks
The day of the first soccer match arrived, and everyone was there to cheer on his or her respective teams. Giovanni’s team would be playing the boys from the neighbouring village of Pentorba.
Alessandro and Savina, along with their families, were sitting on the sidelines and waiting for the players to run onto the newly turfed field. Savina looked around her, studying the animated, excited faces of her loved ones. She looked beyond the soccer field, down through the valley. For the first time in a very long while, she could appreciate the beauty that surrounded her. She was pleased that she would take away with her the memory of her home as a peaceful, beautiful place.
Her attention was quickly brought back to the game as the players jogged onto the field. Savina watched with pride as Giovanni ran out, looking handsome and athletic.
As the Cavaso team appeared, the crowd from Savina’s village cheered. There were shouts of encouragement to the players and lots of advice from the older men. The referee blew his whistle.
The game was very fast and quite aggressive. The men watching from the sidelines jumped to their feet and shook their fists in the air, cheering on their teams. The women were not quite as vocal, but they were very enthusiastic and clapped loudly to encourage the boys.
Cavaso had still not scored a goal by the end of the first half. The home team’s supporters were very quiet during the break, sensing the players’ frustration.
The coach reassured the young players that they were doing very well. “You fellows just have to stay focused. I believe in you, and from the way that you have played so far, I know that you have listened to my instructions. “Winning,” he told them, “is not the only objective today.”
The boys had achieved much given the little amount of training they had done. The coach could see that the once directionless and disparate group of young men was now a truly cohesive, disciplined team of football players, and he had faith in them. He sent them into the second half of the game full of confidence. It paid off as they scored a goal within the first five minutes. The spectators were on their feet once again, yelling in support for the Cavaso boys.
Within minutes of that first exciting goal, the Pentorba team equalised. A loud sigh of frustration came from the Cavaso camp, although it was drowned out by the enthusiastic encouragement of the Pentorba supporters.
When the final whistle sounded the end of the game, it was a draw. It had been an inspiring experience for the young players. For the first time, they felt like they were a part of their respective communities and knew that on this day, they had made their people happy and optimistic.
The two teams, and the two communities, all headed to the village square for pizza and homemade wine, and they celebrated until night fell and it was time to return to their homes.
Many exciting matches were to come over the six-week period, and as fate would have it, the teams who had played that very first match of the competition would meet again in the final. This time, the Cavaso team was triumphant. They scored only one goal, but their defence had proved to be so good they were able to prevent the opposition from scoring at all. Every man on the team had responded to the coach’s call. They had given it their best. They wanted to prove that they were worthy of all the faith and support that the community had shown them.
Giovanni was a very good captain. His team had trusted him to make the right decisions on the field, and he had not let them down. Savina was over the moon that it had all gone so well. She was finding it hard to believe that her small suggestion had led to this successful event, and she was very proud of her little broth
er.
Though exhausted, all of the players were high on adrenaline, and once again the event concluded with an exuberant party. It was a lot warmer now in mid-May, so the villagers celebrated into the early evening.
By 5.00 pm, spirits were still high; a number of the younger revellers, Giovanni included, were much too excited to go home just yet. They talked quietly among themselves and decided that a motorbike race into the foothills was a good way to finish the day. Because they knew their plan would be unpopular, they all told their parents that that were going to one of the boy’s houses to play cards. Then they set off to retrieve their bikes from the shed where they were stored.
The late spring days were long, and there was still adequate light as the boys got their bikes ready. They headed off towards the mountains, laughing and encouraging one another to go faster. They had all had a few glasses of wine. Although it did not have a high alcohol content, combined with the youths’ high spirits and their post-match excitement, the wine helped trigger their increasingly dangerous behaviour.
As the boys reached the mountain track, the light was beginning to fade, quickly. Giovanni was starting to regret his decision to go along with his friends. He knew that his father would be furious with him, and that would overshadow the glory of winning the soccer game. He should have followed his instincts and gone home with his family much earlier in the evening.
Giovanni tried to convince his friends that it was time to head home and call off the planned race, but even though it was now fully dark, the boys still wouldn’t agree to turn around. All he got for his efforts was teasing. “Giovanni is afraid of the dark! He wants to go home to his mummy!”
At this, Giovanni got very angry. He decided that regardless of the taunts, he would go back to Cavaso. As he turned his motorbike in the opposite direction, he could hear the other boys behind him calling out, “Don’t be a spoilsport, Giovanni! Stay with us a bit longer.”
He ignored them. The young man took off down the narrow, unmarked tracks in such blind haste and anger that he soon found he did not recognise where he was. To make things worse, he was low on fuel. Giovanni was starting to panic. Suddenly the track he was on came to an abrupt end. Through the evening darkness, he could just make out what seemed to be a narrow gorge ahead of him. He peered out at the unfamiliar terrain uncertainly; he had no idea where he might end up if he turned back and attempted to go around the gorge, and besides, a longer route would use up too much petrol. He was starting to feel disorientated.
Giovanni tried to calm himself. He had plenty of local knowledge to draw on. He didn’t recall any wide gorges in this part of the Cavaso region. This was bound to be just a narrow crossing, and he was sure that he could jump it. He just needed to back up a bit and then drive as fast as he could.
He knew as soon as the bike was in the air that the distance across was wider than he had thought. The impending darkness had caused him to misjudge the width of the gorge.
Giovanni’s friends had started to feel guilty after he left them and soon decided that they should also turn for home. As it was now very dark, they took their time, knowing that they would be in trouble with their parents anyway. When the boys reached the shed where they stored their bikes, their parents were waiting for them, Giovanni’s father among them. He searched their faces. “Dove è Giovanni? Perchè non è con te?”—Where is Giovanni? Why is he not with you?
The boys looked at each other. They were confused. Giovanni had left at least 20 minutes before them.
When they told Antonio that his son should have been back almost an hour before, the look of sheer terror on his face made them all feel sick with worry. The worst part was that it was too dark to go out searching for their missing friend; the boys had no idea which track he had taken and, therefore, did not even know where to start looking for him. They were suddenly aware that the risk they had taken might have had disastrous results.
Regardless of the darkness, Antonio and a few other men set out with torches and a determination to find Giovanni. They stayed out most of the night searching the area that they all knew so well, the mountains that had seen so much sadness and death over the last few years of the war. The men all carried the secret fear that they might be looking for a body—not the beautiful young man who had scored the winning goal for his soccer team only hours previously.
The men were forced home in the early hours of the morning with heavy hearts. They would try to rest for a few hours and return to the search at daylight. Giovanni’s father did not sleep that night, nor did any of his family. Olga and Gigetta were distraught, and their mother was inconsolable. This intense emotion shocked Savina; Paula had always seemed so cold and detached. She found that she felt compassion for this woman whose son was lost. Savina tried to keep Paula and the girls away from her father. She knew that he was doing his best to hold his emotions in check and that he would not be able to do that if he saw how upset his wife and daughters were.
Alessandro had arrived at Savina’s home to offer his assistance, and many men who, like him, had fought for their country now crowded into the barn, accepting the food and hot coffee that the women had laid out for them there. It was Alessandro who organised the men into search parties. With the coming of first light, he led out the team of men who were most familiar with the mountains—many of them, like him, former partisans. They could only guess what direction Giovanni had taken when he went off by himself, but with the help of the young man’s friends, they had plotted various routes.
Savina had to take charge. Once word had travelled around Cavaso, the women from the village started to arrive in droves, bringing food as well as their common sense and organisational ability. Savina was relieved to have the others help her. She had wanted to go out with the men; Giovanni was her little brother, and she wanted to find him and bring him home. She had pleaded with Alessandro to take her with him.
“I know it is hard to ask you to stay. But I need you to remain at the house to help co-ordinate the volunteers and assign them to search areas—and to make sure that everyone is fed. Okay, bella?” Alessandro said as he gave Savina the map with clearly marked positions. “I do not want anyone else getting lost.”
Savina nodded reluctantly. She kissed him, and he hugged her fiercely, willing her to stay strong.
At the end of a full day’s searching, Alessandro and the rest of the party made their way to their assigned meeting place. They were exhausted. They did not want to stop looking as there was a small chance that Giovanni could be lying injured somewhere.
They had been calling to the boy throughout the day, and now the searchers were afraid that they would not find him before nightfall. All of the able-bodied men from the village had joined in the search throughout the day, with the women bringing food and drinks up to them. No-one spoke; they just prayed and did what they had to do. People from the surrounding villages had also come to offer their help. Alessandro quickly organised the extra men into search teams and set off once more.
They headed back to the starting point, and each team now took a different direction. As they had more people searching, they were able to sweep the area more thoroughly. They had borrowed torches and loudhailers from the village fire brigade, and the sound of Giovanni’s name being called echoed through the endless mountains.
Alessandro and his team were moving slowly through the undergrowth when he noticed that there was a deep shadow off in the distance; he could not make out if it was just his imagination, but the land seemed to fall away. This was not a part of the mountain he was familiar with. He called to the closest teams.
“Over here! Everyone come this way! Can someone tell me what it is that I can see in the distance? Is it a gorge?”
As the men approached, they could make out some broken foliage. It was hard to tell in the fading light, but they were sure that they could see wheel tracks in the undergrowth. They began calling to the other teams, and soon all the searchers in the vicinity had converged on the are
a at the edge of the gorge.
Alessandro was sure that they were close, but he was taking care not to rush at this stage for fear of missing other signs. The tracks of the motorbike were clear in a few places but then disappeared in others. “God, this does not look good.” Alessandro was thinking out loud. He mentally prepared himself for the worst.
The undergrowth was thick, and it made it difficult for the teams to keep moving as they made their way cautiously down the slope. They concentrated the light from their torches into the gorge ahead of them and realised that it was steep and wide. Alessandro pressed on with dread in his heart.
Suddenly one of the men called out, “Look! A leather helmet. It looks like the type that bike riders wear.” Alessandro recognised it as Giovanni’s; the boy’s initials were there in child-like script. Even though it was not a solid helmet, it offered some protection for the rider, and without it, the chances of surviving an accident were very slim.
Alessandro held the helmet and willed Giovanni to be all right, but he was fearful of what they would find. A light fog had started to descend as the men now concentrated their search on the floor of the gorge. The calls of the volunteers, breaking into the silence of the mountainside, had no answer. Within minutes of them reaching the bottom of the slope, there was a shout of alarm and then the terrible sound of a heartbreaking wail. Alessandro knew instantly that they had found Giovanni.
