15 years ago today, something pretty cool

It's July 13, the anniversary of one of my favorite all-time soccer moments. 

Ironically, the moment was generated by a team that I really – if I’m speaking honestly – have historically disliked. I have always admired certain Italian players. But collectively, the Italians are just such a ridiculously cynical lot. It really gets my shorts in a twist to see a team with so many fabulously talented players grind the game into something so hard on the eyes, poisoned so by diving and dirty little shenanigans.

But never mind all that. For now we’ll focus on the date from 15 years ago.

Italy faced Bulgaria at Giants Stadium in the big weed-and-cement stew that is East Rutherford, New Jersey. I was covering the World Cup for The Dallas Morning News, reporting form my seventh different venue. It’s OK if you want to hate me at this point.  Just get in line.

(The date is also memorable for one of the worst hangovers in the history of the world. I woke up the morning of July 13 with two thoughts: first, that the force of the water hitting my head in the shower might actually kill me, and; two, thank heavens this semifinal is a night game, otherwise I just don’t know if I could make it. But I digress.)

I made my way to Giants Stadium later, arriving well before kickoff. In fact, I was walking below the stands near the big entry tunnel when I happened to pass the pre-game staging area for a heavily armed and quite intimidating special security force. These dudes were ready to rock. And remember, this was seven years before 9/11, so I can’t even imagine the weaponry that might be deployed in similar circumstances today. Abrams tanks, perhaps?

Well, Italy beat Bulgaria that day on two goals by Roberto Baggio and his ridiculous rat-tail. (Remember those?) One of the goals was a work of art, as he blew past two overmatched Bulgarian defenders and worked a sweet shot around the stretched ‘keeper. His other strike, just five minutes later, was a classy finish off a swell pass from Demetrio Albertini – an assist so well-weighted and accurate that Andrea Pirlo himself would stand and applaud.

Those two strikes, plus Brazil’s semifinal win across the country over Sweden, rescued World Cup 1994 from a Bulgaria-Sweden final. Whew! That was close.

Anyway, the truly, truly memorable moment came right after the match. I remember like it was yesterday. In the game’s waning seconds, as Italy clung to a 2-1 lead, Baggio’s hamstring had given way. He was on the sidelines, boots slung over his shoulder, clinging to a teammates’ sleeve in  nervous anticipation of the final whistle.

Finally, right at the sound of the French referee’s reprieve, Baggio burst into tears. He wept inconsolably.

It was really quite touching, and everyone could surely figure out that Baggio’s display was one of raw emotion. He had been overcome by the joy of the moment. But, seeing as this is the United States, and seeing that the sound bite is all that matters to some of the nincompoop element within the chattering class, someone in the post-game press area asked Baggio why he was crying?

He seemed surprised at the question, as in, "Don’t you know why?" But he answered, somewhat quietly.

To paraphrase (and I truly wish I knew exactly what he said, but I don’t speak Italian), Baggio responded with something like this: This is my life. This is everything I have always worked for. To play in a World Cup final means everything to me.