IMPRESSIONS : What This Cup Lacks in Punctuality, It Makes Up for in Passion

Monzialismo Ti Uccide .

An Italian graffiti artist spray-painted that cry for help on several stone walls in Florence. It means, “The World Cup Is Killing Me.”

Americans would advise him to call 911, but telephones are among the utilities taken for granted at home that cannot always be counted on in Italy. Electricity and water are others.

One Saturday afternoon in Florence, a rumor spread that the water would be cut off for 24 hours beginning at midnight. There was no official announcement from city officials, but everyone seemed to learn of the impending inconvenience through word of mouth.

Sure enough, the water was cut off at midnight. Fortunately, it was back on the next morning, long before anticipated. But part of being Italian is learning to expect the worst.

They often get it from a service industry that serves only when it is good and ready.

That has been particularly true in recent days of railroad workers. Their intermittent work stoppages have not brought the country to a halt, but have slowed it considerably. About the only good thing anyone has to say about them is that they sometimes give advance notice of their strikes.

But not always. Dozens of Irish fans were trying to reach Pisa by train from Florence Monday so that they could make their connection to an express train to Genoa in time for Ireland’s 5 p.m. second-round game against Romania.

Since it was only 10 a.m., and the trip to Genoa from Florence was scheduled to take a little more than three hours, there seemed to be no time problem.

The fans boarded the train to Pisa on Track 3. But because the workers on that train decided to strike, the fans were herded to another train on Track 4. Half an hour later, still sitting in Florence, they were told to return to the train on Track 3.

They finally left for Pisa an hour and 15 minutes late. Fortunately, they did not miss their connection to Genoa because that train also was late. Unfortunately, they learned when the second train arrived that it had been converted into a local. It stopped at every resort town between Pisa and Genoa, finally arriving only 30 minutes before kickoff.

Then the fans really began having problems. Because taxi drivers would not take them within a mile of the stadium, perhaps fearing the Irish fans are as close to the English in behavior as they are in geography, they had to walk.

They reached the stadium just as the game was beginning, only to discover that the only tickets available cost $72 each. They had been promised end zone seats for $35. After an argument, officials sold them the cheaper tickets.

As the World Cup host in 1994, the United States can do better.

But will the World Cup be better in 1994?

Despite all the frustrations for visitors to Italy, which are basically the same frustrations that Italians learned to accept with a few muffled oaths, this World Cup has one important, perhaps essential, ingredient that the United States cannot hope to provide for a soccer tournament.

“Everything will work efficiently in the United States,” a young volunteer for the Italia ’90 Organizing Committee who lived for two years in Maryland said at a party in Florence one night. “But the people will not have the same passion.”

It is the Italians’ passion--for soccer, for the home team, for a magnificent besta , for life--that has made the World Cup a joy.

Of course, the tournament is extremely important in most parts of the world. Otherwise, all these politicians would not be trying to get in on the act:

--President Menem of Argentina appears at a photo opportunity in Milan before the opening game with star midfielder Diego Maradona, then, like everyone else in his country, second-guesses the coach for his lineup choices after a loss to Cameroon.

--President Biya in Cameroon takes credit for the selection of 38-year-old goal-scoring wizard Roger Milla to the team.

--President Iliescu of Romania calls in the miners to put down anti-government demonstrations in Bucharest, then picks up the phone to call the team in Italy to offer his congratulations for its success.

--Prime Minister Haughey in Ireland interrupts a European Community summit in Dublin to watch the final minutes of the victory over Romania.

But in Italy, even the personal involvement of the politicians is more intimate. A blue movie, “Mondiale,” hit the theaters last week. It stars Cicciolina, the porn star whose day job is as a member of Parliament.

Perhaps Italians would be less passionate if their team was not so prominent. Forza Azzurri (Blue Force) will play Ireland in the quarterfinals Saturday night in Rome. To underscore his impartiality, Pope John Paul II granted an audience Wednesday in Vatican City to the Irish team.

Italy’s favorite son is forward Salvatore (Toto) Schillaci, who began the tournament as a reserve, but, almost by public demand, has moved into the starting 11 and scored three goals.

“Toto Is Not Garibaldi--Yet,” read the headline in one Italian newspaper last week.

Giuseppe Garibaldi is the military leader credited with uniting Italy in 1861. In reality, he united it on the map, but no one has been able to do it in spirit. There is great animosity between the north and the south. Neither much cares for Sicily, which is Schillaci’s home.

“The people of Florence want Italy to win,” a Florentine journalist who works in New York explained after Schillaci scored the only goal in a victory over Austria. “But since it was Schillaci who scored the winning goal, the people of Florence would rather Italy have tied.”

Two weeks and two goals later, he might revise his opinion.

During Italy’s second-round game with Uruguay Monday night in Rome, Florentines, as usual, were on the streets en masse. But they all seemed to be watching the game on television or listening to it on the radio.

Several people crowded around a fruit stand, whose proprietor had a portable television set. Others stood outside the window of an appliance store, whose owner had left the TV sets on. A vendor in the train station seemed irritated when customers approached because he had to take the transistor radio away from his ear to serve them.

But even when Forza Azzurri is not playing, it is difficult to coax some Italians away from their television sets during games.

Particularly afflicted are waiters. In a Rome restaurant, one was so intent on watching the Soviet Union-Argentina game that a customer gave him a yellow card that referees usually dispatch to players guilty of flagrant fouls. Everyone else in the restaurant applauded while the waiter stalked toward the kitchen. But he kept the card.