Paolo Rossi’s military record listed him as a “Bersagliere”. But let’s be honest: his sights were set less on training grounds and more on the opposition’s goal. And he was very good at hitting the mark. Enlisted in the 3rd Special Bersaglieri Athletes Company (which, even in name, sounded like a tactical 4-3-3 formation), Paolo spent a year in uniform—but with his shin guards tucked under his arm.

The barracks? Yeah, nice place—when we actually saw it,»he quipped to Guerin Sportivo. For him, military service was a very flexible concept: every Wednesday or Thursday, there was a match with the Italian Military National Team, and then it was back to his club. More than a soldier, he looked like he was on tour.

In 1977, he flew with the Military National Team to Syria to compete in the Military World Football Championship. There, among Roman ruins and corner kicks, he came home with a medal, a postcard from Palmyra, and a linguistic epiphany:

“The C.A.R. is nicer than Syria. Warmest regards. Paolo.”

Signed from Damascus, with that trademark Tuscan irony that knew no boundaries—neither geographic nor hierarchical.

He wore the number 9 blue jersey, but he wasn’t alone. Alongside him was another future champion: Antonio Cabrini—true friend, national teammate, and strike partner in both tournaments and late-night dorm room dinners. Rossi scored the goals, Cabrini cheered him on and set them up. A bromance born out of (few) military hardships and matches played in earnest.

Their alliance was solid: one would start the day with his hair perfectly in place and finish it all messed up; the other started out disheveled and stayed that way. But on the pitch, they could find each other blindfolded. And in that military training camp disguised as a football boot camp, the Italy team that would shine four years later at Spain ’82 was in the making.

His unlimited discharge papers, signed in Prato on July 5, 1978, marked the end of his military obligation. But it’s not as if Paolo had really felt the weight of it. He’d already done it all: worn the Bersagliere hat (with its dramatic plumes), traveled the world, won an international tournament, and forged a friendship that would leave its mark on football history.

Rossi, a soldier? Sure. But with a license to score.