"On 27 May 1964, a nine-year-old boy with a poor appetite, already in his pyjamas, was given special permission to stay up and watch television. His mother tricked him: ‘Look, if you don't eat, even your heroes won't make it’. I still remember the monstrous size of the stuffed loaf of bread that was placed in my hands. I chewed tenaciously, my eyes fixed on the screen. I swallowed with difficulty but without stopping: the first good luck ritual, the more I ate, the better our team played! I only stopped to wave the Nerazzurri flag on the sofa after every goal. When captain Picchi lifted the cup to the sky in the middle of the Prater in Vienna and the white shirts of Real Madrid finally appeared defeated, my father was moved to tears: how could I sleep with all that adrenaline in my brain and all that bread in my stomach? So that little boy, who was usually sent to bed before Carosello, took his place in his pyjamas in the Fiat 1300, with the flag hanging out of the window. Everyone to Piazza Duomo! Long live Inter, who freed the night for children!"