A wedding gift in Catania: the team that sang as one

For ten years they had shared cold gyms, bus trips to away games and finals lost in the fifth set. When Serena, their captain, announced she was getting married, the girls of the volleyball team knew right away that a kitchen appliance wouldn't do. This is the story of a wedding gift in Catania born in a locker room, of a tenor for the church wedding and of a signed ball that now sits on a shelf, next to the wedding photo.

The locker room and the gift list

It was Tuesday evening, after training. Valeria, the setter, sat on the bench with her phone in hand.

"Serena and Gaetano's gift list. Food processor, luggage set, coffee machine."

Debora rolled her eyes. "Serena drinks her coffee at the bar. Has done for ten years."

Ketty, the youngest, was tying her shoes. "I'd give her something that gives her goosebumps. Like when we won promotion."

There was a silence. They all remembered that night: the packed sports hall, Serena on the floor in tears, the anthem sung by two hundred people. Valeria put her phone down.

"Music," she said. "We'll give her the music for the wedding."

The parish choir and Gaetano's worry

The problem was Gaetano. The groom was a practical man, raised in Ognina, someone who repaired fishermen's boats. For the church he had already decided: the parish choir, free of charge, because his mother's cousin had sung in it for thirty years.

Valeria went to hear it one Sunday. The ladies of the choir had big hearts and tired voices. They sang a little early, a little late, with the goodwill of people doing their best.

On the way out, Valeria met the parish priest, Father Orazio. She told him the team's idea. He smiled and quoted a verse she had never heard.

"In the second book of Chronicles, when the temple is consecrated, the singers and trumpeters sing in unison, as one voice. And the temple is filled with the glory of God." He paused. "Music in church isn't a filler. It's how a community prays together. It deserves the best we can offer."

"In unison, as one voice: like a team."

A collection at the gym and a wedding tenor

The collection was made at the gym, in an old ball bucket. Twelve girls, twelve envelopes. Valeria looked for a wedding tenor in Catania who could sing in church and at the reception too. She listened to live recordings, videos of real ceremonies, until she found the right voice.

She told the maestro everything: the locker room, the promotion, the anthem sung by the whole hall. And she added one detail. "Gaetano wants the parish choir. We don't want to offend anyone."

The maestro suggested a simple solution. The ladies of the choir would sing the congregation's hymns, together with him. He would sing the Ave Maria and the solo moments. Nobody would be left out.

Gaetano only half knew: they told him "the girls" wanted to help with the music. He shrugged. "As long as Mum's cousin sings."

The wedding day: twelve girls in the third row

On the wedding day the girls of the team sat together in the third row, in twelve different dresses and with the same nerves as before a final. Serena entered on her father's arm. As she came in, the tenor's voice filled the church, warm and bright.

Serena stopped for a moment. She looked at the third row. Twelve faces trying not to cry, and failing. Then she understood.

Throughout Mass the music accompanied every moment without ever distracting. The ladies of the choir sang with the tenor, and for the first time in years they were in tune, confident, almost young. Halfway through the Sanctus, Gaetano's mother's cousin turned to her companions with an astonished smile.

After communion came the Ave Maria. Gaetano, who never knew what to do with his hands in church, joined them without realizing. Serena saw it and squeezed his arm.

Aci Castello: the toast before the Norman castle

The reception was in a hall by the sea in Aci Castello, its windows open onto the Norman castle and the sea stacks. When the couple entered, the tenor welcomed them with a famous aria, accompanied by the piano. The guests rose to their feet.

When it was time for the cake, Valeria gave a signal. The twelve girls stood up, crossed the hall and lined up in front of the couple, as before a match. Ketty was holding a ball. On it were twelve signatures and a line written in marker: "For our captain. This time, you scored the point."

The tenor began a romanza. Serena took the ball, held it to her chest and burst into tears, just like that night in the sports hall.

Gaetano went over to Valeria. "The music... was that you?"

"That was us."

He looked at the sea. "I've never prayed like that in my life."

Because a wedding gift in Catania isn't measured in euros or in the size of the box. It's measured in how much of it stays. And some voices, like some teams, stay forever.

Elegant music for the reception hall in Catania

In Catania a wedding doesn't end with the last note in church. It continues in baroque villas, in halls at the foot of Etna or overlooking the sea of Aci Castello. And there, the most attentive couples ask for the same care they gave the ceremony. Elegant music for the reception hall can be a tenor accompanying the couple's entrance with a famous aria, a piano that makes the aperitif refined, a romanza when the cake is cut. A few well-chosen moments are worth more than hours of background music.

Would you like to hear the voice that made Gaetano pray?

Do as the girls of the team did: listen all together, in the locker room or on the sofa. Listen to Maestro Ilarion live in church. Then imagine the couple's faces at the very first note.