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Those radios often caused friction between couples, as men out for a walk were more taken by the broadcast than 💶 by their female companion. At least the radios never physically kept anyone from their families; otherwise Sunday would be spent 💶 at the stadium or at home in front of the television. Rita Pavone sang about it, scolding her companion for 💶 preferring football and leaving her alone; Dino Risi painfully portrayed it in his episodic movie, The Monsters, where in the 💶 episode What a Bad Life! , Vittorio Gassman plays a poor family man who spends what little he has to 💶 go to the stadium; Alberto Sordi reiterated this in the memorable scenes of The Husband and I know That You 💶 Know That I Know .

At my parents’ house I discovered a drawer full of old pocket radios. I then found 💶 an identical one when we emptied my grandmother’s house. I was reminded of them present in family photos, with that 💶 unintentionally vintage design, often surrounded by an engrossed group of people of all ages, hands cupped around their ears. I 💶 remembered afternoons in the mid-nineties when they were still used. As a child I used to take them with me 💶 on Sunday outings for the same reason everyone else took them: to follow the ball game.

In today’s connected world, the 💶 ball game now comes to us. Our grandparents would have gone mad, as well as our parents limited by pay-TV, 💶 if with a few taps on a screen they’d had access to live matches, able to watch them on the 💶 beach, at a wedding, on the road, anywhere. The new football times may be irritating, or may seem like an 💶 obstacle to sharing, but these new means actually allow for greater access. Of course, they take away a bit of 💶 the sentimentality, but watching matches is part of Italian culture, and a fragmented schedule will not undermine this tradition. After 💶 all, even church times have changed, and Sunday lunch is now often replaced by the American style brunch. Some things 💶 change over time, but the essence is the same. The peanuts at the stadium still taste as they did when 💶 my grandfather took my father in the early 1950s. And likewise when he then took me forty years later. Seeing 💶 the green lawn in person for the first time, seeming so immense while climbing the bleachers, will always be an 💶 emotion shared by children from all generations. The same as congregating in front of a screen with friends and family, 💶 cheering for a goal or consoling after a defeat. The radio broadcast continues to accompany us, especially in the car; 💶 and – if there’s no signal – to this day we still have the pluck to ask strangers “Who hit 💶 the goalpost?” like Paolo Fantozzi did in the iconic movie scene. Because that’s how we like it, and we can’t 💶 do without.

It is so beautiful then, to call it like they used to: the ball game “la partita di pallone”, 💶 a simpler and more common version of the “football match”. A name handed down from generation to generation and now 💶 so obvious that it has been permanently shortened to the “game”. It’s Sunday in Italy. If we’re going to see 💶 the game, it can only be football. So let’s arm ourselves with an internet connection, radio, TV, or head to 💶 the stadium, and let’s watch it with our favorite people.