Marco Verga cuts to the chase, as if slashing to the rim.
He likes ball.
Not the kind that rolls on grass.
“I don’t like soccer,” said Verga, a direct speaker. “Full stop.”
He needs basketball, pounded on wood and black top.
Recovering from a morning workout, the 27-year-old steps into McDonald’s with a friend on Saturday afternoon. He and Federico Granci are two full-court passes from Porta Romana, a massive 16th-century stone gate that testy drivers shift by.
Gym bag at his feet, Verga wonders about braving sticky 90-degree heat for a game of street ball at one of the city’s best known pick-up courts, a stop up on jumbo tram No. 9 from Porta Romana. It’s at Lazio Park, a leafy oasis in central Milan where snap-back rims on see-through backboards lure bean-pole dunk artists, Steph Curry impersonators, even the occasional pro, in a well-heeled neighborhood with fewer immigrants.
“Maybe ice cream is better,” says Verga, the owner of wandering tufts of blond hair complemented by sizable silver earrings, evoking a clean-cut visage of Jack Sparrow.
He is digesting a two-course lunch of pasta and hamburgers made by his Milanese grandmother, Adriana, “a good cook.” She lives a half hour away, via trolly bus.
A pull on Verga’s sleeve reveals words fit for a civil rights activist, “No struggle, no progress,” part of a tattoo depicting a player about to dunk, in homage to the man who taught him hoops, as well as for his general love of the game.
“My father was a great a player,” says Verga, who can rattle off basketball strategy, from back-door cuts to quick ball rotation. He lives with his dad, Claudio, and mom, Anna Maria, in Melzo, outside Milan. In Italy, children typically live with their parents through much of their 20’s, regardless of profession. Claudio was also a coach.
“I have loved to play since I was young,” said Verga, speaking a mix of Italian and English while explaining the tattoo, one of six on his upper body, with another coming in December, he says.
When not navigating five-on-five traffic, he’s striding across a farm that adjoins a library in northeast Milan, where he met Ganci. In the city known as the country’s financial capital, the pair breathe comparatively fresh air away from stuffy office environs, taking care of barnyard animals full time, whatever the temperature. Goats, horses, donkeys, hens, rabbits and turkeys are a few of the many needing nurture.
“It’s a little tiring but fun,” says the softer-spoken Ganci, 29, a native of Milan who has south Italian roots. “You arrive home satisfied. It’s not like other jobs. You are not in front of a computer.”
The 12 horses Ganci tends to brighten his every day. Even when some nip, he sees beauty in them all.
“I love horses,” he says. “It’s my hobby.” On the side, he roots for Juventus, the Turin soccer team with a national following.
For Verga, basketball takes center stage. When he was 22, a towering figure approached the tree-lined court on Viale Lazio, where he was scrimmaging with the usual high-schoolers, college kids and young corporate professionals.
“It’s Gallo,” Verga announced.
As in Danilo Gallinari, the veteran NBA player from Lodi, south of Milan. A 13-year U.S. pro, the 6-10 power forward signed on today with the Boston Celtics after spending the last two seasons with the Atlanta Hawks.
Gallo means rooster.
Years earlier, Verga had been playing organized basketball with Gallinari’s younger brother, Federico, on a team in Lodi. At Lazio, the trio would team up with two others, and it was bombs away.
“We won many games,” the six-foot, 157- pound Verga says, breaking into a smile after acknowledging Gallo’s polished inside-outside game. “He passed me the ball, absolutely. I am a good shooter.”
Since their fortuitous encounter, Verga’s What’sApp profile has shown a portrait of the two, taken after their clinic on winning.
Saturday, a fatigued Verga would ultimately walk to Lazio, where he shouted out to regulars.
“Ciao, Mimo,” he says to player dressed in black. “He is good.”
Some players at the park try out courts across the city, which has a solid culture of street ball, says architect Francesco Cusani, a Roman who has lived in Milan for seven years.
“Here in Milan, there is a good basketball tradition,” said Cusani, 33, seated in sideline shade while waiting to join the next round. “A lot of people travel to get to the basketball courts.
“It’s nice here because of the length and width of the court. The snap-back (rim) is not so usual to find.”
Cusani, who discovered Lazio Park through word of mouth, named a series of Milan’s best playgrounds, such as Solari and Sempione parks, which the late Kobe Bryant visited in 2011.
Several, like Lazio’s, have been refurbished with top-quality baskets and freshly painted lines, as at Stelvio Playground and Bicocca Village, both in north Milan.
“There’s a good street-ball community in Bicocca,” Cusani says.
Verga, a fan of 2022 Italian pro-league victor Olimpia Milano, is playing street ball in lieu of a try as starting point guard for the Cernusco Sharks, in the fall.
“I enjoy passing the ball,” he says.
When he’s not passing, he’s checking out new parks, a source of community.
“I meet other guys, other cultures, others traveling around courts.”
“Game,” calls a player.
Verga’s quickly assembled crew is up.
-30-
Share this post