For the times I used to program the VHS (yes, VHS) to record the two hours of Italian league on the local broadcasting channel every Sunday morning in Italian, in the hopes it was a Roma game. If it was, the game would remain on the tape. If not, I’d rewind it and try again the following week.
For the time I cried all night when our mutual dream of making the final of the Champions League in our hometown of Rome died when Max Tonetto blasted the ball over the crossbar in the Olimpico.
For everytime I spoke in the first person when speaking about Roma even though I’ve never been to the city, don’t have any Italian blood, barely speak any Italian or am an official card caring member of the club…
For every early game around 7 or 8 am when I would have to pump the air in silence when Totti scored, as to not wake anyone else in the house.
For everytime I scheduled my weekend around the highlight game of the match day.
For every work break scheduled around a midweek Champions League game.
For every work break to BE scheduled around a midweek Champions League game this season.
For the time I traveled almost 24 via two broken down buses to Boston from DC to see Roma play Liverpool all alone, my first time seeing them live.
For the time I saw Totti for the first time, when he walked out to warm up for said game versus Liverpool… When everyone else was speechless as well and then, out of pure instinct, chanting what I chanted in my living room countless times alone, DAJE CAPITANO and I swear Er Purpone looked my way before waving to the crowd.
For the time I left two hours too early for New York to be able to see them again versus El Salvador, my homeland… Two hours two early because as I was scrolling the Web on the bus, I saw that Roma was in the exact bus/train terminal taking an amtrak to NYC…
for the time Roma came to my hometown of Washington DC and again, missed a chance to meet my favorite club but did see them play against Chelsea the following day.
For the countless times I navigated Thai Chinese and Italian websites and vendors to get a Roma jersey almost every year.
For the scarf my cousins fiance brought me of Roma when she was in Italy.
For the countless debates message boards, tweets, blogs, responses, Instagram and Facebook posts related to Roma.
For every tattoo I’ve designed in my brain that has a connection to Roma
For all those reasons and more, I wish my favorite club in the entire world a happy 87th birthday. I would sacrifice all this and more for you!!