Ciao, my name is Farah and I’m the luckiest Juventina in the world.
I come from Singapore, which is almost 10,400 kilometres away from Turin – but still a wonderful home to true Bianconeri brothers and sisters, many of whom have loved this team since they were children. I’m privileged, of course, to have had the opportunity to come to Turin a few times already – and much of that has to do with the amazing hospitality of Maurizio, Luca, and the Around J family.
A bit of background: In the summer of 2014, Juventus travelled to Sydney and Singapore. Through that journey, I got to meet all of the Juve players – except for Morata, who had just arrived but gotten injured by Rubinho; and Barzagli, who had had a rough year and was nursing yet another strain through the off-season. Missing out on Barzagli disappointed me the most; he is my absolute favourite player of the current team – and as he’s down to his final two years, I became resigned to not ever having the chance to meet him.
It all started innocently. I went to the Juve Megastore on Sunday and bought the new kit. They gave me a pass numbered (lucky) ‘13’ and told me to come back on Tuesday at 2pm. (I didn’t realise until hours after the event that there were only 34 of us who got passes!) I asked who was going to be there, and the Juve Megastore staff shrugged and said, “Buffon, Bonucci, Marchisio, maybe Barzagli…” but she didn’t seem sure. For selfish reasons, I was really hoping it would be Barzagli.
But I didn’t say anything about it to anyone because I didn’t know what I was in for, and didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up – especially with our Juventus Club DOC back in Singapore, for whom I often come back with ‘gifts’.
At the Juve Megastore this afternoon, I only started to realise something exceptional was going to happen when the tables and markers lined up – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7… 8?! Really?! Were the Magnificent Eight going to be here at the same time?!

The staff and security were very strict about not allowing cameras in-store (they are meant to email the official photos over to us; fingers crossed they arrive!) so I didn’t get further than these sneaky snaps.

On hindsight, I appreciate that they did it that way – because now, while I have no photos (yet), I have such terrific stories!
Before I go into each story, it’s worth nothing this: Each player says “grazie” or an equivalent of it to each of us as we move along the table. I know it’s part of the branding; they’ve been doing it on social media since last week and with videos through the game on Saturday. But here’s the thing: Each player looks you in the eye, and says “grazie” or an equivalent, with firm eye contact and firm handshakes. They *wanted* to be at Juve Store today to do this. It’s just too easy to love this team. Absolute. Champions.
Unfortunately, the Magnificent Eight was conspicuously missing Marchisio (poor fellow; hope he gets better quickly) – so it was just the Magnificent Seven at the table. Here’s how it went:
Chiellini came first, and I never know what to say to him. It was the same when I met him in Singapore, and it happened again today. He’s a lovely chap, all smiles, sincere handshake. But we just say “Ciao” to each other, smile, shake, he says “Grazie”, and I move on to Stephan Lichtsteiner.

Stephan Lichtsteiner is completely different. Back in Singapore, our first encounter was him bombing my attempted photo with Luca Marrone. I know he speaks English because he also taught me then what “tira” meant; and taught Marrone to say “pull” instead. So to Lichtsteiner this afternoon, I say, “Ciao, I’m Farah from Singapore”. He sticks out his hand to shake mine, and says “Ciao Farah from Singapore” and chuckles. He continues, “Thank you, very much,” then signs my shirt.

“No, thank YOU”, I say. He grins and shrugs both shoulders with a small pout, like ‘no biggie’. We laugh. (Okay, I think mine was more of a high-pitched giggle.) I move on to Caceres.

Which was really awkward. I didn’t know whether to say, “Good luck”? Or “Want a drink?” He gestures for me to pull the shirt tight, and signs a big signature as I just smile at him weirdly. (It’s interesting to compare just how much space Caceres takes on the shirt versus Buffon. Quite inversely proportional…) We shake hands, he says “Grazie”, I keep smiling weirdly, and move on – hands sweating, heart pounding – to Barzagli, to make my dream come true.

Barzagli says “Ciao”, I say “Ciao” and I admire his presence in silence as he signs my shirt. When he’s done, he looks me right in the eye, puts his hand out for a handshake, and I reciprocate.

Holding his hand, I say, “Sono da Singapore… you are my favourite player. My favourite. You are amazing. Brava!” I’m holding his hand this whole time, and only realise when I felt his left hand on mine that I had actually been holding his right hand with both my hands.

“Thank you,” he says. He’s smiling, but he still looks serious. “Thank you for come Torino.” I had to laugh (okay, maybe I giggle again) and finally let go of both his hands.

Buffon is next, and I’ve taken so long with Barzagli that Buffon has downtime to listen to our conversation. Before I can say “Ciao”, Buffon says to me, “Barzagli your favourite player?”

I say, “Si! But you are number two!” Bonucci, who is on the other side of him, laughs. Buffon sniggers as he takes my shirt. “Sono da Singapore,” I say – and I can’t explain why I say it in Italian when it’s obvious that Buffon can speak English. When Buffon looks at me again, he pauses, then waves his marker at me, and says, “Ah, Singapore! Airport?”

I have no explanation for what happens in the next five seconds. I spit out some gibberish amid gasping for breath, “YES, YES, SI, SI! Oh my god! Yes! Grazie, bene, forza!” (I still can’t quite grasp that he may have (vaguely) remembered our brief encounter at Singapore’s Changi Airport two years ago!)

He and Bonucci burst out laughing at my blabbering. Buffon shakes my hand (I’m sure he did; I remember the feeling of his massive hand, but I can’t quite capture the detail of the memory.) I’m half-beaming, half-embarrassed; all-floating, and in between crying and dying. Of course there’s the possibility that he’s thinking of another Asian person at another Asian airport, and I’m only joining imaginary dots. But I’ll take it for what it’s worth!

Buffon had passed my shirt to Bonucci – who signs it, then looks back at me and says, in perfect Italian-accented English, “Thank you for your support in Singapore”. Wait, WHAT?! Bonucci speaks English?! I don’t remember how I responded, or if I was too stunned to respond at all, but I do remember noticing that he has such piercing eyes – and remember thinking, no wonder gunmen are afraid of him.

Padoin is last in line, and I must say from my previous experience in Singapore, that he is the sweetest human being ever. But this time, I’m too scrambled from Barzagli and Buffon that I barely speak to him. All I remember is that his hand felt very cold!

The players left through the back door of the Juve Megastore, which leads directly to the Juventus Museum. There are people waiting by the temporary railings, and like the champions they are, of course our players stopped for their fans.

I had initially planned to come here this weekend for the street party at Piazza San Carlo, but who would have thought that when the bus got cancelled, far better things would happen in its place?

As many words as I’ve used here, there really are not enough words to describe the magic of being a Juventina in this age; of celebrating history-making achievements; of being in the right places at the right times; and most importantly, of having the opportunities we do now to be together as an international family, share our stories, and live vicariously through one another’s experiences.

On that note, I’ll leave you with this shirt and one final question: Why must Buffon sign on the space for the Coppa Italia patch? :p