A smile in a suit and tie, an impeccable moustache, the sly air of someone who seems distracted by the pleasure of chatting, but whose eyes and ears miss nothing.
Carmine Di Marco is one of those iconic figures of Malindi of the last 40 years, often dated from the opening of the Casino in 1990.
And Carminuccio, as I affectionately called him, reciprocating his “Alfredino,” was the true soul of the Malindi Casino.
He was not only the head waiter, then the manager, but also the one who put his face out there, the one who greeted everyone at the entrance, players and non-players alike, the one who dispensed advice and worked hard to solve problems. He was the intermediary between those who didn't know a word of English and weren't content to speak in chips, the peacemaker, the calmer, the problem solver.
Never over the top or beyond the wheel that turned, always attentive to doing his duty and the interests of the company. But that didn't make him serious, quite the contrary. With his Abruzzese soul, his Pescara roots, having sailed halfway around the world and tied to a family that had welcomed him between Miami and Africa, Carmine always maintained his positive verve, the sanguine temperament of a good and faithful dog that would never bite you, even though his role sometimes required him to do so.
And when he took off his impeccable uniform, he was a good companion for eating and drinking, for chatting about Zeman's Pescara and his Milan, and for always remembering the misadventures of some of his compatriots, whom he was always the first to rush to help.
I hope the others will forgive me, but I cannot fail to mention Bobby Cellini, nor say goodbye to Robert. But Carmine, for all those who frequented Malindi for gambling, was an institution.
He had been struggling with his health for a while, but he never gave up. Every now and then he would disappear, but sooner or later he would return to his place, standing, in a suit and tie. Impeccable and sardonic, like that little ball he saw millions of times always landing on the wrong number, as life does when it has to choose the day when everything stops.
To Giovanna and all his relatives, our most sincere condolences.