Killinaskully meets Fellini

From the hills of Tuscany to the banks of the Danube doesn’t take terribly long by road and air but from Montecatini to Budapest is still quite a cultural and geographical leap.

And even though our new lodgings by the great river now take in a stirring panorama of the Hungarian capital, it’s hard to shake off the spell cast by the small Italian town which the Irish team called home for a week.

And not least because the farewell ceremonials there on Saturday evening brought everything to a memorable and even uproarious close.

The idea was that Giovanni Trapattoni and Marco Tardelli would give an open-air public interview in the main square followed by the unveiling of their plaques embedded in the footpath which constitutes the town’s Walk Of Fame.

The setting and atmosphere for the questions and answers session could hardly have been more charming, with an old journalist friend of Trap ‘n’ Tardelli providing the questions as the three men sat in nice comfy armchairs on a small temporary stage which had been erected in front of the church. A few hundred locals and a handful of visiting Irish turned out for the event, sitting in rows of plastic seats or standing beneath the shade of trees as the evening sun cast a warm pink glow on the surrounding buildings.

One Irish couple in the middle of the crowd proudly held a tricolour between them, looking for all the world like pilgrims in St Peter’s Square.

Things were moving along splendidly, the conversation flowing smoothly in Italian and occasionally eliciting warm outbreaks of applause when, suddenly, a vision in pink appeared at the back of the stage. A local lady of a certain vintage, cutting something of a Barbara Cartlandesque figure, was attempting to step onto the stage but clearly having difficulty carrying out the manoeuvre in her wedge heels.

Ever the gentleman, Marco Tardelli broke off the interview and rushed to her aid. Unfortunately, his attempted helping hand only served to destabilise the woman still further. Not a moment too soon, Trapattoni was also at the woman’s side and, between them, Ireland’s management team succeeded in getting her upright again.

Once this was accomplished, it became clear that her only reason for gate-crashing the scene was to have her picture taken standing between the two Italian football legends. The snap was duly taken, the distinguished guests returned to their seats, and the grand dame herself tottered away across the square, mission accomplished.

Still, we were left to ponder the admirable self-restraint of Trap’s security man: otherwise, we merrily mused, we might have been witness to a ‘Naked Gun’-style caper in which, at the very first sign of her one-woman stage invasion, the old dear would have been ‘cleaned out’ in a flying rugby tackle worthy of Lt Frank Drebin.

But if we didn’t quite get David Zucker, there was ample compensation in the fact that, when the interview was over and the next stage of the formalities about to begin, we most definitely did get Federico Fellini.

Waiting on the narrow main street were a taxi and a small police car to take Trap and Tardelli and the rest of the official party further up the road for the Walk Of Fame ceremony. Of course, the mere sight of the beloved ‘Il Trap’ moving amongst them had a Pied Piper effect on the local populace who quickly surrounded the vehicles blocking the road.

And that was the moment when it became painfully clear that the local organisers had somehow forgotten that there was a mini-marathon due to pass through town on Saturday.

Suddenly, chaos was heaped upon chaos as a strung-out field of sweat-soaked runners came round the corner at full tilt. Some of the bewildered athletes dodged and weaved their way through the bodies.

One outraged runner was simply not for stopping, however, and when he got no reaction to his warning cries of “Attenzione! Attenzione!”, he simply put out his two hands in front of him and shoved a man out of the way.

The runners, doubtless much to their relief, then left the madding crowd behind to embark on a big loop but, magnificently, the point at which they returned to the main drag coincided exactly with the time and place of the plaque-laying ceremony. Cue more bedlam.

This time it was thought wise to speed up the ceremonials, with Tardelli and Trap having just about enough time to bend down and brush their fingers against their plaques before, finally, being spirited away to the sanctuary of their hotel.

Following in sequence from plaques marking recent visits by Pele and Marcello Lippi, ‘Giovanni Trapattoni 2012’ and ‘Marco Tardelli 2012’ are the words inscribed on the latest little brass discs.

Not that anyone who was there is likely ever to forget the night that Fellini’s Amarcord came to town.