Colors
Floriana ' s official colors at the beginning of the century were green and red quartered shirts with black shorts. Later on these were replaced with Green and white striped shirts and white shorts. Tradition has it that these colors were adopted after a game played at the Floriana Parade Ground against the Royal Dublin Fusiliers. This regiment of the British army was stationed at Floriana. The two sides played four times against each other in 1904–05. The Fusiliers won the first two games while the third one ended all square. A fourth game was organized between the two sides and this time Floriana won 2–1. As a symbol of friendship, the players swapped their shirts. From that moment onwards, Floriana Football Club adopted the colors of the Royal Irish Fusiliers, which are the green and white stripes and white shorts.
The Florianites are still called 'Ta' l-Irish' meaning 'The Irish'. In the early 1920s which went something like this:
| “ | Tal-Irish minn dejjem hadid, Jagħmel li jrid, deni jew gid. |
” |
In plain English, this translates as 'The Irish are always as strong as metal; they decide if to inflict harm or not'.
Read more about this topic: Floriana F.C.
Famous quotes containing the word colors:
“In Haydn’s oratorios, the notes present to the imagination not only motions, as, of the snake, the stag, and the elephant, but colors also; as the green grass.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)
“The light is there, and colors surround us. However, if there were no light nor colors in our own eye, we wouldn’t perceive such things outside of us.”
—Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe (1749–1832)
“Then, bringing me the joy we feel when wee see a work by our favorite painter which differs from any other that we know, or if we are led before a painting of which we have until then only seen a pencil sketch, if a musical piece heard only on the piano appears before us clothed in the colors of the orchestra, my grandfather called me the [hawthorn] hedge at Tansonville, saying, “You who are so fond of hawthorns, look at this pink thorn, isn’t it lovely?””
—Marcel Proust (1871–1922)