Some Ink

An article that came out earlier this week in the Bergamo Newspaper. It just recaps our game last weekend and talks about where we rank in the season- tied in first place right now!

The Road Ahead

Errestampa PN Bergamo 2009-20010 Schedule

Dec 5 2009 Errestampa PN Bergamo 9 vs Modena Nuoto 2
Dec 12 2009 Errestampa PN Bergamo 8 at Chiavari Nuoto 6
Dec 19 2009 Errestampa PN Bergamo vs Pallanuoto Trieste
Jan 9 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo at Pallanuoto Brescia
Jan 16 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo vs Vigevano Nuoto
Jan 23 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo at RN Camogli
Jan 30 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo vs Como Nuoto
Feb 6 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo at CS Plebiscito PD
Feb 13 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo vs Torino 81
Feb 20 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo vs President Bologna
Feb 27 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo at SC Quinto
Mar 6 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo at Modena Nuoto
Mar 13 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo va Chiavari Nuoto
Mar 20 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo at Pallanauoto Trieste
Mar 27 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo vs Pallanuoto Brescia
Apr 10 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo at Vigevano Nuoto
Apr 17 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo vs RN Camogli
Apr 24 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo at Como Nuoto
May 2 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo vs CS Plebscito PD
May 8 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo at Torino 81
May 15 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo at President Bologna
May 22 2010 Errestampa PN Bergamo SC Quinto

Top 4 Teams compete in Playoffs against the top 4 teams from southern Italy

The Crocodile

I would like to start off with an apology. I know that your coffee has tasted lifeless and your bagel bland with the absence of POLOandPASTA to fulfill your morning routine. I will strive to see that this blog never sees a drought of 6 days with no post again.
In my defense, I’m writing about my job. How exciting can a blog be about one's job? It’s the same thing day after day. Can you believe that they actually want me to work Saturday’s too? And that is when they expect me to work the hardest. I finally understand the drag that people have been telling me for years about the grind of going to work.
How many of you want to strangle me right now? HAHA
The week itself actually wasn’t that exciting. My days are typically spent reading or driving into town and just walking around. I usually head over to the pool to get in a lift before noon and then have lunch at the restaurant afterward. When I get more comfortable with my Italian and the train system, I plan on taking day trips to nearby towns (Milan 40mins, Genoa 2 1/2hrs, Florence 3hrs). Everything is so close in Northern Italy that I can just hop on a train, spend the day exploring around a city, and be back in time for practice at night.
In the pool we focused for our game on Saturday vs Chiavari, a pretty strong team located just south of Genoa. All I heard the entire week was that they have a big, left-handed Croatian center whose nickname was “The Crocodile” because his go-to maneuver was to grab the testicles of his defender to gain better position. GREAT. The whole week I had to give a pep-talk to my boys letting them know that I wouldn’t let anything happen to them. They were skeptical, so was I.
Saturday afternoon we all arrived at the pool around 1:30pm, hopped in a bus and hit the road to Genoa. While the rest of the team zoned out and tried to prepare for the game I was busy taking in all the sights of the amazing towns we passed. There were so many little villages scattered along hillsides and down the rivers. Of course my camera was in the back of the bus (not like anyone has ever won a Pulitzer shooting from a bus window flying down the highway at 100km an hr).
Close to 3hrs later we finally arrived in Chiavari. After a clear drive the whole way, the damnedest thing happened; it starting hailing right when we hit the exit from the freeway. I’m no profit, but I knew that couldn’t be a good sign. ..
The game started and the environment was awesome. With no huge football (soccer) teams nearby the town’s biggest sport is water polo. They get a strong turnout and bring great energy. The whole right side of the stands were packed with teenagers who brought drums, flags, and whistles (which kept confusing me the whole game). They sang songs the entire match of which I did not understand but I feared they weren’t being nice to our mothers.
We started off solid with a quick counter and goal right away, 1-0. Immediately following we went into a deep hole and they went on a 4 goal run, 4-1. Shit. What just happened? Their fans were going nuts. As much as I loved the atmosphere I was tempted to storm up into the stands and ring one of the kid’s necks to shut-up. Our coach laid into us at the quarter break. I think a rough translation was “Pull your head out of you’re a$$”.
We did! From the start of the second all the way to the middle of the 4th we went on a 7-0 bashing. With the wind out of their sails and the crowd growing silent we were able to hold them off to an 8-6 victory! This was an excellent challenge to see how our team deals with adversity; and we rose!
I know all of you are dying right now wondering, “But Russ, what about your jewels?” I appreciate your concern and I’m very happy to tell you, “They are A-OK”! There were a few close calls where I definitely felt him treasure hunting, but I was always able to shift away from the croc’s grasp to a place of refuge. While the goods were kept good he did manage to familiarize my face with his elbow as well as fist. The jaw was pretty raw the next day but to recap; no earned ejections or goals from their center.
Bus 1 - Crocodile 0

-Bus #10

Game Time

Just like the monarchs of natural bridges, the butterflies were back Saturday night. Our first game of our season and my first real game playing in Italy. I laid out all my new gear (shirts, jackets, Speedos) that I had gotten the night before and sat around fidgeting in the apartment all day until it was time to leave for the pool. It was a home game so I hoped in the clown car and drove the 10 minutes to the pool. The complex was completely transformed. There were huge posters and banners set up all around advertising the team’s sponsors. The pool was flawless and ready for the battle. Everything was so professional looking it made me feel kind of important.
We had our pregame chat which I didn’t understand more than five words and then hoped in the pool to warm up. With the music bumping and the crowd filtering in I was getting pretty pumped up. I did my normal pregame routine and then we all got out of the pool for the presentations. One problem, when they told us what to wear for the game they forgot to retell in English. I asked one of my teammates what I should bring and he forgot to tell me that we had to bring our sponsor shirt for the introduction ceremony. I couldn’t believe it, I had to miss my first pregame intro, something I had definitely looked forward to. Instead I just sat on the bench and watched, I felt like I was wearing a dunce cap.
The ceremony finished and my team filtered over. Everyone had put in a tough offseason and was ready for it to finally begin. Our opponent was Modena Nuoto, a team that I was told was young but I thought looked pretty big and strong. While I didn’t get the start, my team shot out of the gates to an early lead. Capitalizing on some 6 on 5 opportunities we quickly went up 2 – 0. Halfway through the first quarter I got the call, “Roosil, u in”. First off the bench. I had been studying their center forward the first few minutes and felt confident that I could shut him down. I got a few defensive stops and some tough counters and I lost my self in the moment. This was awesome; I was actually living out a dream.
On our 4th counter attack some overgrown man-child on the other team was grabbing my suit the whole way down the pool. The only thing that went through my mind was what my old coaches had told me, “Don’t take any shit from anyone”. I had to make it known that I was not going to be the foreign kid who let you walk all over him. It was now or never, time to send a message. I took two hard strokes to get in front then stopped and came back with a hard head butt followed by a strong right elbow. I was actually kind of proud of the connection. They immediately called an offensive foul and the possession got switched to the other team. Even though my team wasn’t happy with the foul and the ogre didn’t look like he was going to be my new friend, I knew that this was something I needed to do. We quickly got a defensive stop and the giant actually ended up switching so he didn’t have to guard me on the next counter.
Our goalie was on fire and we continually increased our lead. I was proud with my play, no kick outs from center and they didn’t even get a shot off. That’s all you can really hope for when defending. I felt strong in there wrestling with their freak and my shoulder held up perfectly. No goals tonight from me as I only took one shot that I probably forced. That didn’t stop our team from being successful as we cruised past Modena Nuoto winning easily 9-2. It was a great way to a start of a long season.


-Bus #10

Italian Lesson

Wednesday night we don’t have pool time so we always travel to some nearby team for a training scrimmage. Two days ago we drove to Como which is on the south banks of Lake Como about an Hr and 15 min northwest of Bergamo. When we arrived temperatures outside were flirting with freezing but they had a very nice indoor swimming complex and I was eager to get in and play. As exciting as Tuesday swim-sets are (always 15x200m…always), I constantly look forward to Wednesday night where we actually get to play. While there are no defined quarters and goals aren’t recorded this doesn’t take away from the competitiveness. You still want to kick their ass every possession. There is no point of driving close to 3 hrs just to go through the motions.
Unfortunately, this is exactly what our team did. Como is a sporadic team that reminds me a lot of UCSD. They play a very unstructured game with people driving all over the place trying to capitalize on backdoors and homerun passes. This is not a successful way to play polo at this level but if the other team falls asleep and doesn’t stick to their style of play, they will quickly find themselves in a hole.
We did not follow our game plan and at a half time break our coach Andrea (Ahn-dray-ah) let us know. It’s sad but the first words the foreign kid always learns are the bad ones, and he gave us a lecture that night. Surprisingly there wasn’t much I didn’t understand because he stuck to my comfort area when describing on how we were playing. We were lazy on defense, and combining bad passes with stupid shots on offense. The second half we played a little better and ended up somewhere even against a poor Como team that we should have easily dominated. The ride back to Bergamo was dead silent the whole way.
With two days before our first official game I’m definitely ready. Playing water polo in a European league has been a dream as long as I can remember, and to be in Italy was always the number one choice. While my shoulder increasingly hurts with every practice, I know that with a couple Advil and a whole lot of adrenaline it’s not going to hold me back in the slightest. Plus for some strange reason I feel that I’ve actually been shooting better in practice than I have in a long time. I’m ready to drop some buckets Saturday and get the “W”!

Bus #10

PUT A SOCK IN IT

“Roosil, Let me see….”, the first words I hear when I see most of my teammates. They always know the answer but they love making fun of me. I grab my pant leg and lift it exposing my plain, $7.99 for a six-pack generic white socks. I immediately hear the chorus of “nooooooo”, “whyyyyyyy?”. Then they take turns asking if I like girls, “What, don’t u want to meet Italian girls?” “You only like little boys and goats?”. They have told me over and over again that wearing plain white socks is the biggest sign that I will never meet a nice Italian girl. From what they say it’s the equivalent of rolling into a bar with your grandpa’s suspenders, a pocket-protector, and a big kiss from your mom still on your cheek. No matter how good your game is, it’s just not going to happen.
They on the other hand wear any type of random sock that you might find in your dad’s business drawer. Crazy patterns, ridiculous colors, anything but white. Of course no one can ever see my socks because I’m always sporting jeans but they love just making sure I know how stupid I look. I would say it’s starting to piss me off but now I love wearing whities just to see them freak out. After three weeks and the language barrier fading I’ve finally gotten them to explain why white socks are such a sin. They say it is because it makes you look lazy, like you don’t care about your presentation. They say white socks are for the morning when you walk your dog and no one will see you. They are just for when you want to relax and feel comfortable. So after working it around in my head, it’s probably most similar to wearing sweatpants to a bar or club. When I finally figured it out, it kind of made sense, kind of.
Still I hold strong to my roots and vouch to wear my white socks like the stubborn and I guess style less American that I am. I will break down these prejudice ideals and show them that everyone should be able to pick up a girl in a bar, no matter what color their socks are!

Bus #10

Sundays are for Family and Football

This last Sunday, our goalie Cano invited me over to his house to have lunch with his family and then to go with him and his friends to a soccer game. I didn’t know what I was excited for more, the food or going to my first European soccer match. Both lived up to their hype and I’m still undecided on what was the highlight of the day.
Cano picked me up on this ugly rainy morning and laughed when I asked if I should bring my umbrella. He said where we are going to be sitting in the stadium u don’t use an umbrella no matter what the weather is like. You have to stand there and show your team support by weathering it out. “If they are playing in the rain, we must stand there in the rain”, he told me. It kind of got me pumped up.
He first took me back to his place where I met his parents, brother and his two grandmothers. A very nice family but no one spoke a word of English besides Cano and his younger brother. We wasted no time and sat down at the table right away to feast. Cano told me that his mom was worried that there wouldn’t be enough food so she ended up cooking way too much. Perfect!
Cano’s mother prepared two main dishes and both were amazing. The first was a bacon wrapped rabbit, yup rabbit. First time for me and I’m sorry to all of you cotton tail lovers I don’t see it being my last. Sooo good. On the side we had a large serving of polenta, which is reminds me of a mix of something between mashed potatoes and cornbread if that makes any sense. Anyways when you put a little of the sauce from the meat on top it def rivals your side dish from last Thursday. After eating Peter we had some of the softest and delicious steak with more polenta and sauce. After a few rounds of each I was beyond stuffed, but of course I found myself some room for desert, homemade apple pie!
When the meal was finished we had our coffee “correzione”. Which means you add alcohol to it, usually the Italian liquor grappa( which I still think tastes like straight petrol). A little booze in my coffee, you think I complained? Hey even his grandmas were putting a little sauce in, I had to try.
After the goodbye “Ciaos”, Cano and I headed over to his friends house that lived only a block from the stadium. There we had another coffee “correzione”, a couple more shots of the petrol and grabbed a beer for the walk. Hey it was raining and freezing, you better believe I was going to make sure I was warm on the inside, especially since they didn’t serve any more “beverages” once you entered the grounds. Upon entering the stadium you have to show your ticket and show your Identification to make sure the names match. When you purchase your ticket, they actually scan all your information into a database so that they can make sure you are liable for anything stupid you do at the game. I quickly realized this was probably a good idea.
The “football” not soccer match as I’m constantly reminded, was between Atalanta of Bergamo and AC Roma of Rome. This is the best league in Italy and had some of the top players in the world playing…too bad the only two player names I recognized (Totti and Rise) were on the other team. The tensions between the teams are so high that the police didn’t even let the Roma fans enter the stadium on fear of massive fights.

Cano and all his friends always sit in a section called Curva Nord which is the area where all of the “ultras” (hardcore fans or hooligans) gather. Singing, lighting fireworks and flares, and fighting. Every fan has some type of team gear so Cano took me to go buy a team scarf so that I could now represent my new club and hopefully not get pneumonia.
There are no seat numbers only sections and when you are in Curva Nord you stand the whole match. The game started and so did the “ultras”. With the rain pouring down they only sang louder. 30,000 drunken fanatics singing in unison about the other team’s wives and mothers, it brought tears to my eyes. This is how professional sports is supposed to be. Not in some press box with mini weenies, but out in the rain taking pulls of hidden flasks. This was my type of party.
Atalanta went up early but gave up the lead at the beginning of the second half. Despite a well played and exciting final 15 mins, Bergamo lost the match 2-1. As bad as it is to say, I didn’t really care who won the match, I just loved being there, taking in everything, trying to sing along and jumping up and down the whole time. I plan on returning every home game.

-Bus #10