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My Abusive Relationship with Milan


They say that there is no abuse in love. Clearly, they have never been a Milan fan. And just like a child of an abusive parent, I have red and black blood, so it makes things even harder to sort out. For the past two summers, though, the abuse has increased exponentially. So, like a child who learns to lay low when daddy comes home smelling of alcohol, you’d think I would expect the douchebaggery that has kicked off yet another alcoholic summer.

"Fans should thank me when I sell the best players and sack all of my coaches"

I thought that after Allegri, things would be different. I even wrote about that abusive relationship after Seedorf’s first league game at the helm. But I should have known that papa Berlusconi would fall off the wagon again. He told me it would be different this time, but we all know that addicts are not in control of their lives. And Berlusconi and Galliani certainly are behaving like addicts.

Sometimes, I try to think about walking away. After last summer’s drunken douchebaggery, I wrote “I Wish I Could Quit You.” But despite all of that abuse, I stuck around for more. The summer before that was the pushing out of i Senatori and the sale of Ibra & Silva, but still I came back for more.

No, this wasn't their reaction for breaking free of the abuse, but it could have been

People have called my obsession with Milan unhealthy, and they’re probably right. Being in an abusive relationship does warp your sense of reality and destroy your self esteem. But this relationship is different than real life abusive relationships. First of all, because there have been happy times. Times when we played good football and times when we won trophies.

There have also been a lot of good people in my life as a result of this relationship. People like i Senatori, who gave me so much to smile about on the pitch, and have lived exemplary lives off of the pitch, too. From them I learned about heart, belief, determination, and integrity, amongst other things. They are the kinds of people I want my children to have to look up to.

How could I ever walk away from this history and these heroes?

The game itself is not always beautiful, but it gives me something to wake up for at 3:30am on a Sunday. It gives me something to look forward to, even in the worst injury crisis, or even after signing a player like Matri. For 90 minutes, all of the abuse gets put on hold, and I can watch my team win or lose… but I can watch. And even in the worst of games, I am always grateful to been able to watch my boys play.

So I stick around, like anyone in an abusive relationship does. Sure, I should have noticed the red flags, but they were all checkered and striped with black. Maybe there was a time that I could have walked away, before I got too invested. But even with the worst douchebaggery our management have to offer, I am tied to this club by a bond that is more powerful than family: I am a Milan fan.


This post inspired by the music of Nirvana’s “Rape Me”