This Italy mob mean business

IAN RUSH couldn’t settle in Italy; the Welsh striker said it was like living in a foreign country. But San Nicola — the patron saint of Bari — is, they say, a friend to travellers and up to 6,000 Irish soccer fans were certainly making themselves at home in the coastal city yesterday.

Burly men in Shamrock Rovers polo shirts share bowls of creamy pasta like Lady and the Tramp sucking up the same piece of spaghetti; Waterford lads critique the Chianti while Peroni is the beer of choice. If we go any more native an Irish victory in the stadium named after the aforementioned saint (ironically, an away team has never actually won against Italy there) will see the Via Napoli clogged with thousands of Paddys in fashionable leather shoes and skin-tight tops, furiously beeping the horn of their stylish mopeds.

But as Gerry Adams might have remarked about the Boys in Green: they haven’t gone away you know. It’s like we never left Italy. The local paper splashes ‘Bentornati’ or ‘Welcome Back’ across its front page and many older soldiers in Trap’s Army look like they are still living in 1990.

Like those zealous Japanese soldiers oblivious for years to World War II ending, they appear as if they’ve been fighting on the Adriatic front ever since David O’Leary’s finest hour. Truly, a veritable battalion of mulleted-boasting middle-aged men in tight-fitting ‘Give it a Lash Jack’ t-shirts and Euro ‘88 Opel-emblazoned jerseys fill the wide avenues of this charming town. More still are wearing topical Brian Cowen nude portrait tops, admittedly.

One Irishman — part of a vocal delegation of workers from Dublin airport — provided the slightly scratched soundtrack to yesterday afternoon’s fun as he offered his party piece of Rhinestone Cowboy in a small but busy city centre cafe. In the shadow of the local castello, the setting was almost worthy of a spaghetti western. But not even Sergio Leone could direct this posse of bandits who are enjoying the cheap beer, good food and even the distraction of the FIFA World Cup trophy.

Yes, our world champion hosts have proudly put the magnificent trophy on display in the town hall for all to traipse in, camera phone hand extended to get an up-close-and-personal look at it. Like any hero from TV, it’s smaller in the flesh but hopefully, these fans and the FAI delegates who will be officially shown the cup today, will be reunited with it in South Africa next year.

The town authorities have laid on a major welcome — last night we were treated to a ‘music match’ between Italy and Ireland. Toto Schillaci was expected to sneak in and nick it in the end with a fluky banjo solo.

Dublin’s footballers are sick of waiting for their fans to finish one last scoop in a Drumcondra Road hostelry on championship Sundays; tonight the country’s footballers might be forced to kick their heels in the San Nicola Stadium as the ‘Ballymun in the Sun’ lads — and the rest of us — try to squeeze in a few extra minutes of paddling.

Hundreds are expected at a huge beach party before today’s match. This could get wet and/or wild. (Check out the YouTube footage of Scottish fans enjoying their day in the sun and sand on the same beach). But as Tony Soprano incredulously asked his son when he was suspended following a water-based school jape, ‘How can you vandalise a swimming pool?’

For fear of having to go into a witness protection programme after the next full stop, I’m whispering the word mafia, here deep in the Mezzogiorno. However, with the bespoke fan zone in the old quarter of this industrial city wallpapered in tricolours, one such flag yesterday depicted Il Trap with his name printed in the distinctive font of The Godfather movie posters.

The message is certainly clear. Cosa Nostra — this thing of ours — is going well. Trap is the talk of the town; taxi drivers offer a thumbs up, Juventus fans serving drinks mime their approval — everyone is pleased he’s here. Mr Trapattoni is no gangster clearly, but for the thousands in the Curva Sud of the stadium tonight, he’s the capo di tutti capi. And this mob mean business.