Today there is news, one of those that we would never want to give because it is too painful: Nestore Morosini is gone, who died last night due to the consequences of Covid, on October 31 he was 83 years old. In this dawn I think of all the years I shared with him, I don’t remember how many, maybe 40 or maybe more.

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The first time I entered the Corriere della Sera, in a suit and a string of pearls, I asked the concierge that I wanted to speak to the sports manager. Once the engines, inside the newspapers did not have an identity of their own, they told me to go to the editorial office, on the ground floor, a huge room, where 30-40 people smoked, someone with a cigarette in hand pointed me to Morosini. He had just returned from Brazil where he had followed Formula 1, he wore a T-shirt with a large colorful parrot, I spent a few minutes busy writing the pages. I went out in via Solferino thinking that with such a character I could not find any empathy, we were so different!

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Instead a relationship was born which, over the years, has turned into affection, into mutual esteem. Nestor was chaotic, confusing but he loved his work in a visceral way, he loved cars, the world of Formula 1, football, Ferrari and, above all, the Corriere della Sera. He had a thousand interests, with the curiosity of a real journalist, he composed on the spot, he didn’t read the press kits, from Argentina he wrote a beautiful article on the disappeared, from Brazil he published the poems of Benjamin Moloise who was killed a few days later.

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At the Munich Olympics, in 1972, after the terrorist massacre, he got a tracksuit from a basketball player and entered the village to report live. I can’t forget the phone call he made to me when the newspaper decided that the engines would have their own dedicated weekly page, it was his victory. He had given the engines an official status, a coat of arms and the Corriere was inaugurating the path that after all the other newspapers they would take, not only in Italy.

He was overwhelming, he was looking for the news, he had a nose, he was a forerunner, he knew how to maintain relations with all the hierarchical scales of the various companies, he was respected not only because he represented the most important Italian newspaper but because in his professionalism there was always a soul. We also quarreled, discussed, I supported my arguments and stood up to him, I saw his daughters grow up who are the age of mine, I also participated in his family life.

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was a pillar for Corriere, when he left, I realized he was suffering, I continued to tell him about the world of engines that no longer had anything to do with what he had known. We spoke three days ago, the voice seemed firmer, Ivana, her Ivana, told me that the doctor had reassured her, instead this cursed virus was working, in a subtle way, inside her body which she decided to surrender.

November 18, 2020 (change November 18, 2020 | 10:17 am)

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