Gnocchi

"Get him Di Napoli!" an anonymous voice cried.

Mario readied himself, his hands ready to engage in the 'family
business' - The same hands which just 24 hours before had been making
gnocchi:

Rolling the family's special combination of mashed potato, nutmeg,
cream and a pinch of salt into beautiful spherical objects ready for
boiling was something Mario had always enjoyed and it was a link to
where his parents still referred to as 'home'.

As he looked from the kitchen window to the rear of his flat into
another dark Edinburgh winter's day he thought about how he, Mario Di
Napoli had come to be born there and anticipated his initiation due the
next day.

His father had originally been asked to come over by the boss to sort
out some 'local difficulties' and to bring some 'Italian know-how' to
the local 'rabble'. As it turned out, he and his wife got to enjoy the
life in the East End of Edinburgh, despite the cold and settled amongst
the local Italian community, producing four children: his three sisters
and Mario.

His father soon retired from 'the business' and his parents opened a
chip shop on Leith Walk featuring various Italian specialities as well
as the local array of deep fried vegetables.

The swirling wind blew a scrap of paper against the window, distracting
Mario briefly.
But tomorrow&;#8230; that was Mario's first assignment - his father
was proud of this fact but at the same time, having had experience of
the same role, was aware of the uncertainty and danger of Mario's
chosen career. As for Mario's mother - she was always going to worry
about him getting hurt on the path that he was following, but both his
father and grandfather had done the same so it seemed to be what all
men did in the Di Napoli family.

Mario thought to when he got the news - it was from the boss. Not the
same boss as his father had worked for, for there was a high turnover
of bosses in this business!

"Mario, we've got our visitors coming from the West End on Saturday and
it looks like you're the man for the job. I want them stopped, and you
would appear to be our stopper. Tommy's hand has still not recovered
from Wednesday's hammering and Cat's unavailable."

That Friday night, having enjoyed his home made gnocchi and got an
early night Mario felt a restlessness, anticipating his next day's
assignment. Mentally he was going through every move and knew that he
had no room for error, especially dealing with the enemy from the West
End.

Saturday came and Mario prepared his kit, his gloves were his pride and
joy and he tightened the Velcro straps until they were snug. He wasn't
going to fall foul of badly prepared kit as his father told him others
had.

Then it was really happening:

Mario saw his quarry ahead dressed in a maroon shirt. The maroon shirt
looked up and was aware of Mario. Seemingly from nowhere, he released a
shot.
Mario dived to his left, grabbing the ball in to his chest.

"Aye that's a good save - Now use it!" declared a distant voice.
Mario got to his feet. He saw an unmarked green shirt upfield and threw
an inch perfect pass to it.

A different voice: "Tha' Di Napoli, he'll be as good as his
feither"

Mario had a moment to reflect on his good fortune at being the third
generation to play professional football and the first to play for his
boyhood team - Hibernian. His father might well have coached it, but
Mario was too young to remember that. But here he was, against the
Jambos too! It didn't get better than this.