Talk About "Wake Up The Echoes!"

Going to the Colosseum reminds me of one of my most enduring memories of my month-long travels through Europe in May-June 1984.  I literally had a budget of $20 a day, and that was for lodging, food, and anything I wanted admission to – everything was cheap then, but still. . .I had to make choices.

Anyhow, I happened to be in Rome the same time as the Liverpool-Roma 1983-84 European Cup final was happening. . .in Rome.  I remember seeing the Liverpool and Roma fans drunkenly serenading each other with bawdy soccer songs.  

Somebody at the hostel I was staying at mentioned that the game would be broadcast on massive TVs for free at Circus Maximus (the ancient chariot track).  So I went down there on my own to join the crowds.

It was shown on this massive series of large screen TVs that somehow was engineered to show one huge picture – think of blocks each showing a small part of the game, but somehow they were able to display the whole picture as one across the entire sets of blocks (TVs).  I didn’t know that could be done in 1984, but they must have the best AV person in all of Italy handling it.

A bank was sponsoring it and they gave out little paper brochures taking credit for it.  As darkness fell (it was May 30th, which meant it stayed light for a long time), people started lighting their rolled up brochures so it looked like they were carrying torches.  As the paper quickly burned down, people dropped their burning brochures on the grass as to not burn their hands.

As there is no event in history known as the “Great Moron Soccer Fan Fire of 1984" with a death toll in the hundreds, somehow the grass (and people) didn’t catch fire.

Liverpool won 1-1 (4-2) on penalty kicks (I know deciding a championship by penalty kicks sounds kind of boring, and it is).  The place fell deathly quietly.  And remained quiet as we all walked through the eerie light past the Colosseum.  It’s one of the most memorable and goose-bump inducing walks I’ve ever taken.  At the time, I thought, “talk about wake up the echoes!”

The next day, as I was walking around Rome, people would yell at me from their cars or as they walked by.  I would point and shout “Americano” – and they would yell an apology or wave as if to say “sorry.”  I’m sure it didn’t stop them from yelling at the next non-Italian white person they saw, but I found it all quite amusing.

Keep in mind, this is at time when countless American students traveling in Europe would sew Canadian flags on their backpacks so as not to get chewed out for whatever American thing Europeans didn’t like (it was a long list).  

It turns out I picked a pretty good day to be an American in Rome in 1984.