LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

slipped in Del Piero, dribbling forward in his classic inside-left position against Salvatore Fresi, the sweeper who had been dragged across to cover for West. Juve’s number 10 produced an extraordinary goal, pretending to change direction twice, courtesy of a stepover and then a feint, before attempting to cut the ball into the six-yard box and getting it stuck under his foot, then pivoting and somehow steering a shot into the far corner.

      In response, Inter pushed forward in numbers. The intensity was increasing, with various skirmishes between players, and then came the infamous 69th minute. Inter played a long ball that bounced kindly for Iván Zamorano, who was held up by Birindelli’s desperate lunge on the edge of the box. Zamorano’s strike partner Ronaldo quickly raced on to the second ball, knocked it into a favourable shooting position, but was flattened by a body-check from Juve defender Iuliano. To the fury of Inter’s players, referee Piero Ceccarini waved play on. Juve launched an immediate counter-attack through Davids and Zidane. The Frenchman played the ball on to Del Piero, who was clumsily fouled by West. Ceccarini pointed to the spot.

      Even by the standards of 1990s Serie A, when players weren’t afraid of confronting referees, the subsequent reaction was unprecedented. Within seconds Ceccarini was surrounded by ten furious Inter players, which eventually became 11 once Ronaldo had picked himself up from the opposition’s penalty box. Inter’s usually placid coach Gigi Simoni was sent to the stands, restrained on his way by a policeman, while shouting ‘Shameful!’ towards the officials. West’s tackle on Del Piero was definitely a penalty, his challenge so wild that his boot made contact with Del Piero’s shoulder. Iuliano’s challenge on Ronaldo was arguably also a penalty, but it was the type of coming-together that, in real-time, could be wrongly called by a referee making an honest mistake, especially just two seconds after Birindelli’s challenge on Zamorano.

But Italians don’t believe in honest mistakes when it comes to favourable decisions towards Juventus, and this decision prompted years of conspiracy theories. The debate peaked three days after the game inside Italy’s Chamber of Deputies. Parliament was suspended after an extraordinary row between far-right politician Domenico Gramazio, who pointedly declared that ‘a lot of Italian referees drive Fiats’ – Fiat being Juventus’s parent company – and Massimo Mauro, a former Juventus player turned politician, who repeatedly chanted ‘Clown’ at him, with ushers being forced to physically restrain Gramazio, who was attempting to punch Mauro. Del Piero, for the record, had his penalty saved by Gianluca Pagliuca, but his earlier piece of brilliance meant Juventus still won 1–0.

      Juve wrapped up the title with a 3–2 victory over Bologna, courtesy of an Inzaghi hat-trick, including two trademark goals from inside the six-yard box, and a fine finish after brilliant interplay between Zidane and Del Piero between the lines. The target, though, was recapturing the Champions League, and Juventus fell at the final hurdle for the second year running, losing 1–0 to Real Madrid, courtesy of a Predrag Mijatović goal.

      Lippi appeared unable to explain the defeat. ‘It was one of those evenings where a large part of the team played well below the level they are capable of,’ he said. ‘The reality is that over the whole 90 minutes, we were never dangerous.’ That sole Champions League victory in 1996 doesn’t adequately represent Juventus’s dominance of European football during this period – it probably should have been three in a row.

5

       The Third Attacker

      During the mid-1990s, Serie A boasted the most staggering collection of world-class attackers ever assembled in one country. With billionaire owners investing vast sums in various top clubs, moving to Serie A was an inevitability for the world’s best footballers. Yet among so much individual talent, one particular forward represented Italian football perfectly.

Roberto Baggio was a legendary footballer, an all-round attacker who could do almost anything with the ball: weave past opponents, play delicate through-balls, score from impossible angles. His brilliance on home soil at the 1990 World Cup planted an Italian flag in the footballing landscape, signifying that Italy would be the home of football for the coming decade, with his mazy dribble against Czechoslovakia the goal of the tournament. His performances had prompted Juventus to pay a world-record fee to Fiorentina, their bitter rivals, to secure Baggio’s services, a transfer that prompted full-scale riots in Florence, leaving dozens injured. Baggio supposedly objected to the transfer, and the following season famously refused to take a penalty against Fiorentina on his return to the Stadio Artemio Franchi. When substituted, a Fiorentina fan threw a purple scarf towards him. Baggio picked it up and took it into the dugout, a move that infuriated Juventus fans, who never entirely took to him. After leaving Fiorentina, he always felt more like an Italy player who happened to play club football, rather than a club footballer who occasionally played for his country; worshipped by the country overall rather than by supporters of his club.

      Baggio was neither an attacking midfielder nor a conventional forward; he was the archetypal number 10 who thrived when deployed behind two strikers, orchestrating play and providing moments of magic. He was the type of player that demanded, and justified, the side being built around him, the type Italian football adores. However, the classic Italian trequartista role, which generally refers to a number 10 playing behind two strikers, was under threat. Arrigo Sacchi’s emphasis on a heavy pressing 4–4–2 left no place for a languid trequartista, and therefore players like Baggio were having to prove their worth.

Baggio was a reclusive, amiable character who nevertheless constantly talked himself into trouble. ‘I’m a ball-player, and I think it’s better to have ten disorganised footballers than ten organised runners,’ he declared, which couldn’t have been a more obvious put-down of Sacchi’s methods. Ahead of the 1994 World Cup, Sacchi couldn’t ignore Baggio’s talent, considering he was the reigning European Footballer of the Year, but Sacchi always deployed him as a forward in a 4–4–2, rather than in Baggio’s preferred role behind two strikers. Their most famous dispute came in the group stage match against Norway, when goalkeeper Gianluca Pagliuca was sent off in the opening stages. Italy needed a replacement, and Sacchi elected to substitute Baggio, who trudged off while calling his manager ‘crazy’. Supporters sided with the footballing genius rather than the totalitarian coach, but it was probably the right decision, and Italy won 1–0 with a goal from a Baggio – Dino, no relation. Sacchi’s Italy eventually reached the final, losing to Brazil in a penalty shootout with Roberto Baggio the unfortunate fall guy, blasting the decisive penalty over the crossbar. Nevertheless, the general feeling amongst Italian supporters was that their country had reached the final because of Baggio’s brilliance rather than Sacchi’s tactics. He was omitted from Italy’s disastrous Euro 96 campaign, with Sacchi citing fitness concerns. Nevertheless, his absence supported the growing public feeling that Italian managers were placing too much prominence on the system, and not enough on creative geniuses.

      Baggio started 1996/97 at Óscar Tabárez’s AC Milan, playing as a number 10 behind Marco Simone and George Weah. But after disappointing results, Milan made two decisions that hampered Baggio. First, they reverted to their tried-and-tested 4–4–2 and then, even worse, they re-appointed Sacchi after he was sacked by Italy. ‘He’s two-faced. He tells me that I’m playing well during the week, but come Sunday he leaves me on the bench,’ blasted Baggio after a couple of months. ‘I feel like a Ferrari being driven by a traffic warden. A coach must, above all, be a good psychologist. If he imposes his demands harshly, he suffocates the personalities and creativity of his players.’ Baggio started searching for a new club ahead of 1997/98.

      That club should have been Parma, who emerged as a serious title challenger thanks to the apparent wealth of Calisto Tanzi, founder and CEO of Parmalat, a locally based multinational dairy producer. As with various Serie A owners of the time, Tanzi’s wealth later proved to have been acquired by fraud, and Parmalat later collapsed in Europe’s biggest-ever bankruptcy; the club went bust too, and Tanzi was imprisoned. But during the mid-1990s, Tanzi’s beneficiary attracted a variety of superstars.

Not every coach, however, wanted superstars, and in 1996 Tanzi appointed an up-and-coming manager by the name of Carlo Ancelotti.

Скачать книгу