Alarm bells were ringing in the Marca offices on Monday. The hotline to FlorentinoÃ¢ÂÂs office was flashing red. The security doors slammed shut to prevent anyone from leaving the premises. The unthinkable had happened. Marca was at DEFCON 1.
A grainy photograph taken in the early 90s shows a mischievous looking scamp riding a green bicycle through the streets of Bari Vecchia, his hair parted to the side, as though combed by a doting mother.