
Chicco had a volcanic mind, a razor-sharp sense of humour he never turned off, and a big heart. The years of my most assiduous attendance at the chess club were livened by his leading spirit: he organized blitz tournaments, wrote hilarious weekly columns on chess-related activities on our bulletin board, updated the club's rating list, mocked anybody who was unable to smile when losing a chess game. After hours, we would often meet at his house to play strategy games until late night, like Risiko!, or card games, or to simply hang around. For a 20-years old youngster who loved games and was willing to have fun with a good company, he was a perfect older brother.
Then things changed: he was hired by CES, an organization of the EC in Brussels, and he moved there. I remember I was puzzled when he told me he would leave his girlfriend -a beautiful lady with whom he had a stable story-, because it did not make much sense to try and hold together the relationship as he left while she was forced to stay in Venice by her job: "All good things come to an end" was his remark. Chicco was a not really a fatalist; rather, he was a quite rational thinker. Our chess club became a less merry place after his departure: the void was not filled -it could not be filled-, despite my good will to take his place, write wannabe-witty columns in his style, and take charge of the Elo rating list.

We kept in touch by e-mail after that, but of course this became gradually harder. He married, had a daughter in 1994, then a pair of twins a few years later. I also moved away from chess and into particle physics, got a life of my own, and our contacts became sporadic. But he stayed in my heart.


Chicco became affected by a squamous cell carcinoma of the neck in 2007. He fought a long, excruciating fight with the disease: he underwent two full chemotherapy cycles, four operations, countless biopsies and other diagnostics; he spent months in a clinic. This winter, at some point, it seemed that he might have won his fight with the beast. Unfortunately, the tumour had metastasized to the liver, and he died last Sunday. As he realized he was going to die in the matter of a week or two, he has left a "swan song" page in his web site, with some touching words, a priceless advice on how to avoid counting on the future and rather carpe diem, and a farewell.
Despite the illness, Chicco had not completely given up his activities. His project to give a last lecture at SIGINT in Koln, unfortunately, did not have time to materialize -he was due to speak there at the end of this month. However, his web site -which had been only sporadically updated after 2007- will be his legacy to us, and will stay up and running; his many reverse-engineering friends will take care to continue what he had created.
It is always hard to write an obituary, and I have tried not to do so here. Rather, the above is a summary of the way my life and Chicco's got entangled, and then forcefully divided. So I feel I only need to write here what I got from knowing him. He taught me how to be sarcastic without being venomous, and how to write wittily: for this I will forever be indebted to him. In chess games he always played the Alechin defense, and I have inherited that idiosyncratic opening strategy from him. He was always exceedingly generous with me, and I have learned that lesson. Most of all, however, he was simply an entertaining, intelligent friend, with an infectious laugh. He will be sorely, sorely missed.
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