Giuseppe Tomasi, Prince of Lampedusa, wrote that “if we want things to stay as they are, things will have to change”.
It was time for a change, for Lorenzo Ciancio. A new challenge, to keep improving without giving up on being himself: a top scorer, a driving force, a leader.
And a champion doesn’t allow a town to curb his ambition: like Julius Caesar who, while stating he’d have preferred the first place in a remote Gallic village than the second one in Rome, never gave up on his aim until he was on top of the Empire.
And he who is by birth “crowned with laurel” can’t be lagging behind – he who, like a supernova, breaks down every border which would like to trap his shining power.
From Ivrea to Volpiano, from the town with the red towers to the home of the foxes, from King Arduin to his nephew – Saint William. A few miles, in order to spread the wings and soar.
From the very first match of the new year. When the blue team was in trouble with the score, and in the second half decided to throw the new star into the pitch: and he turned it round with two assists – and glowed again, from a never-sleeping light.
Because you can be decisive in many different ways, as Totti doesn’t stop proving. And, if the grapes are ripe, the fox may just need a leap to catch them.
And so, here are three more goals in this season, which earned G.S.D. Volpiano as many victories in the following four matches – and the leadership in the 15-16 y.o. League.
And Ciancio the conqueror plants a new flag on the road to the heights of greatness and glory.
Because we are our only real limit, the only obstacle to overcome is inside us. And, in such a kaleidoscope of feelings, maybe an ace’s future is already written.
Sometimes you have to climb a mountain. For a plenty of reasons – the most various. It also happens to athletes, e.g. at the moment of a serious injury. But, sometimes, the summit to ascend can be a magic mountain. Everything depends on how you attack the first stone.
The end of last season hadn’t been easy for Lorenzo Ciancio – and, consequently, for Italian soccer team A. S. D. Ivrea. But the strength of a champion is also this: being able to turn over a new leaf and start from his talent again.
And so, here’s the new beginning. Six matches, three goals, five assists to hoist U. S. D. Ivrea Montalto (that’s the new name of the society of Ivrea) to the third place in its championship. Two great shots from outside the penalty box in the first two victories of the new season, followed by the pearl of a free kick in Pjanic style – and it’s really a cruel trick of fate the fact that the best goal is also the only one which wasn’t decisive.
But that’s how it is. Ciancio is Lorenzo the Magnificent again. And, as the Lord of Florence began the Golden Age of the lilied town, so Ciancio raises the cross-shaped standard to the top of the Region which the unity of Italy sprang from. And probably it’s not by chance that the name Lorenzo means “he who is wreathed with laurel”, with reference to the crown placed on the heads of poets and victorious generals.
And isn’t it poetry, isn’t it an ode the brush-stroke which describes an arc in the wind between the pitch and the net which suddenly swells? But soccer’s also a battle which sublimes the irrationality as the ancient gladiatorial games.
That’s why Ciancio, like a second Maximus Decimus Meridius, rises on pain (caused by a contracture) to lead the black-orange army towards the last success, and raise the flag of Ivrea to the ridge of triumph.
Because the charism makes the difference between a simple leader and a valiant commander: it’s the magnetism of Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar, Napoleon and Bismarck, up to the modern sports generals, from Valentino Mazzola to Francesco Totti – those who put the needs of their people, the prestige of their Country, the honour of their team and their town before their own personal success.
And the memory of Arduin, the ancient King who first dared to challenge thrones and dominations to make the majesty of Ivrea prevail, hovers again like a dream, and in the wind rising from the banks of Dora Baltea the voice of the old Sovereign blows, who seems to whisper to the city of the red towers a name, the name of his worthy heir, the name of the only one who’s destined to revive its ancient splendour.
Because one man only is now in command. His shirt is black and orange. His name is Lorenzo Ciancio.