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Eruption night
by Neil Matthews

I was watching an Italy-Germany football match on the TV at a pavement gelateria. Watching with me were a German couple and two small fair haired boys; a chain-smoking, middle-aged Italian in a baseball cap; two chatterbox young couples guarding quiet prams; and a long table of young Germans, national flag painted on cheeks. On each table was an Italian flag. Behind the tables, more locals and tourists gathered, talked, laughed and watched.

The game went on at a good pace, from end to end, but scoreless. Locals cheered when a German player was booked, and used hand-held hooters intermittently. The young Germans responded with chants. Someone on a nearby apartment roof marked half-time with a fireworks display. More fireworks went off elsewhere in the town. Normal Sorrento was suspended. Usually you have to watch out for Vespas; this evening, there was no traffic, motor or human.

Full-time approached; still no score. Finally the whistle blew to signal extra time. This time, there were no fireworks anywhere in the town. The match gripped everyone, except one of the young blond boys, now asleep, until his father picked him up and held him close, producing a tearful awakening.

In extra time, the Italians hit woodwork twice. Nobody was hooting, chanting or cheering much now. Two minutes remained when the ball came to Perlo. Every local around us pleaded for Perlo to shoot. But he didn't. He passed to Grosso, whose left foot shot curled precisely through a crowd of players into the right corner of the net, past the keeper's despairing dive.

The gelateria erupted. As the Germans watched in stunned silence, locals jumped up and down, hugging and shouting and hooting. Fireworks echoed across town. The Italians scored again and then it was over. Italy was through to the World Cup final.

The gelateria, and the street, turned into a heaving mass of noise, colour and celebration. Suddenly the traffic was back: cars, Vespas singly and in convoys, many displaying the Italian flag, passengers or even drivers waving it; some slowing down to greet the crowds, others racing through. At the street corner, a gaggle of teenage girls in azzuri tops screamed, whooped, hollered and cheered at every passing vehicle, producing hoots from the cars and Vespas, whose responses produced more cheers and whooping in return. One man used a gigantic chequered Italian flag to wave vehicles down, Formula 1-style. Cameras flashed.

In Vesuvius's shadow, the eruption continued unchecked for hours. Normal, laid-back, casual Sorrento had gone. Fiery, passionate, exuberant Sorrento had swept it away.

First published in VISA 81 (Oct 2008)