My accommodations lacked both of these appliances. But my open window overlooked the street, and after each Rossi goal the celebration that occured outside provided an unmistakable indication of what had happened.

The game seesawed lack and fourth. Italy scored, and then Brazil tied it. Italy scored again, and Brazil came back. Finally Rossi's third goal in the closing moments of the game settled the outcome.

In the ensuing days press reports would play up the fact that a seventeen year-old Brazilian girl had slit her wrists in despair and that three elderly Brazilians liens had suffered heart attacks at the moment of Rossi's clincher. Soccer, it was duly noted, was a life-or-death matter in much of the world, especially in Latin American and Europe.

Fountain of Youth

Balancing Brazil's despair was Italy's jubilation. Pandemonium erupted throughout the nation. In Rome teenagers races, toward Trevi Fountain following the final gun. According to officials reports, seven seconds after the game had ended the first fans had already reached the fountain. They jumped in fully clothed and joyously refused to be fished out by surrounding policemen.

All over Italy the streets were enveloped by revelry. From my vantage point in Milan I could see jubilant fans streaming into the streets everywhere. Italy's tricolor flag was conspicuous. Friends would spot each other from across the street, run ever to each other and embrace, crying that this was the greatest thing ever to have happened to them, and to Italy.

Cars ambled up and downs the main strip, horns blaring, buge flags being waved out of windows. Women waved ecstatically from the sunroofs of cars while their boyfriends drove, looting the horn. Amid the cacophony of sound and motion girls would occasionally drop their flags in their enthusiasm and appeal to standers by to fetch it for thew and turn return it to the moving car Men on the street would usually oblige, but office only for the reward of a kiss.

People embraced everyone. There was more than just dancing in the streets--in Milan many danced on the rooftops of cars. Throughout the celebration thousands shouted cheers in unison. "I-TAL-IA! I-TAL-IA! I-TAL-IA!" they shouted over and over again. Or for the more vulgarly minded: "Brasilia! Brasilia! Vaffanculo!"

Horsing Around

In the center of the city fans climbed all over a towering statue of Garibaldi on his horse. The game lasted 90 minutes. The celebration would last the night. And it was only the beginning.

Three days later Italy disposed of Poland in the semifinal. Once again, the superhuman Rossi, who by now had become an instant celebrity, provided all the firepower the Azzuri needed. He notched both goals en route to a 2-0 Italian victory.

The festivities erupted again, but this time in a relatively subdued fashion. Italy had been expected to defeat Poland, and they had dominated the game throughout. In contrast, against Brazil the Azzuri had pulled off a victory which few had expected--and in a thrilling fashion no less.

The climax came Sunday. Matched against West Germany and their superstar halfback Karl-Heinz Rummenigge, Italy was in the finals for the first time since 1970. It had been 44 long years since the Azzuri had won the World Cup.

In a crowded living room in the heart of Turin, Italy, thirty-odd family members, one American, and assorted family pets intently watched a single television screen, beaming the World Cup final live from Madrid.

In the first half neither team scored. At one point Italy missed on a penalty kick. A silence which should have been incapable of thirty people in a room that size ensued for several minutes afterwards. Three goals for the Italians--the middle one by Rossi--in the second half converted the silence to bedlam. Final score: Italy 3, Germany I.