Aldegheri on the mountain. It’s the blue Angels

Gray is a matter of colors hidden by shadows. When, between trips and the time difference, we have time to talk to Samuel Aldegheri, the Los Angeles Angels pitcher, he’s in Huntsville, Alabama, playing with the Double-A team. Outside his hotel room window, America: “The view changes often because we travel constantly. One week, hotels surrounded by greenery, with endless expanses of trees and meadows; the next, buildings, skyscrapers, gray. There’s no fixed point.”

The world, and the story of a life, is what you see beyond the glass. “At home in San Martino Buon Albergo, however, the view was always the same. From my bedroom window, I could see a corner of the courtyard, also gray, where the sun never reached. Yet that’s where I spent hours with my brother throwing and practicing, imagining where I would end up.”

Aldegheri, how did you get to the Major League?

“I started as a kid. I wanted to play soccer, like many others, but my brother Mattia was already playing baseball. One day a coach asked me if I wanted to try, and without thinking, I said yes. I was four years old. Maybe I was attracted by the fact that it was something different. I never stopped.”

It’s a long step from Verona to America. Who pushed her to home plate?

“My brother, precisely. He’s always been there, in the good times but especially in the difficult ones. He coached me when I was little, he encouraged me when I wanted to give up. He believed in me before I did myself. He’s my biggest fan, and to this day I’m still convinced that without him I would never have gotten here.”

What does it mean for a young Italian to enter the MLB orbit?

“At first, you’re out of place. They look at you like an experiment. They don’t even know baseball is played in Italy. They think you’re the Italian-American from New York. But then they realize that if you’re there, it’s because you’ve earned it. On the field, it doesn’t matter where you come from, only what you can do. And there, you play everything.”

How was the adaptation to American reality?

“It was a shock. The level, the pace, the facilities, the fact that baseball is a native language here. I was 17 and felt small, but never out of place. I had to grow up quickly, especially mentally. Fortunately, however, I always had the support of my family and friends, and things got easier as time went by.”

What has been your moment of glory so far?

“My first MLB win, on September 6, 2024, against the Texas Rangers. We won 5-1, I pitched six innings and allowed only one run. It was my second game. It’s a day I’ll always cherish.”

What have you understood about the United States, and what still eludes you?

“I’ve realized that everything is possible here, but nothing is easy. It’s a country built on competition. They don’t ask you who you are, but where you want to go. It’s fascinating, sometimes even magnetic. But I don’t like the loneliness that comes with all this racing. In Italy, we may be more chaotic, but we’re also more connected, especially to family.”

Does baseball really explain America?

“Yes, it’s a game that rewards patience, discipline, and resilience. It’s full of invisible details. Like the American Dream, you work hard to get there, and one mistake is all it takes to make it vanish.”

What language do you think in?

“It depends. When I’m alone, or have to make important decisions, I speak in Italian. When I call my grandmother, I speak in Veronese dialect. But on the pitch, I now think in English: it’s more direct, technical, and quick. It comes naturally to me.”

Your story arouses curiosity, but is there a question you’ve never been asked?

“Yes. No one ever asks me what this life is really costing me.”

We’ll fix it. How much does it cost?

“Chasing a dream is beautiful, but it comes at a price. I miss my family, my girlfriend, my friends. I miss the Italian summer, the sea, the hills around Verona. I miss the slow pace, the sweet idleness, which here almost seems like a flaw. But it’s a choice I made, consciously. It’s not a renunciation, it’s a sacrifice. To get where I want to be, I know I can’t have it all now. And that’s okay. Even though everyone in Italy calls me ‘the American,’ on the pitch I am, but off it I’m still just a boy from San Martino.”