But then the match went ahead, and a lacklustre side like Belgium made a complete mess of the Azzurri at Rome’s Stadio Olimpico. Suddenly, Romano – who until the day before had been hailed as ‘the Italian Rodri’ – was being described as a third-rate player; the quality of the squad was deemed too low; the substitutions were wrong; the national team’s future looked bleak; Mancini was called an idiot; and Malagò was labelled a usurper. Three days of insults, of “I told you so”, of editorials that would not even be heard in a sports bar after the third grappa, of “Mancini’s project has already failed”, of “we’ll be relegated to Serie B to play against Israel”, of “multi-ethnic youngsters are all well and good, but let’s not go overboard”, ‘the problem is that we used to play in the streets; today, even some random Swiss player in the Cagliari first team thinks he’s the new Rodri’.

Then Italy travelled to the aubergine-coloured pitch in Bursa, won 4–1, and judging by certain comments, Bastoni and his teammates were the reincarnation of the 1970 Brazilian team, Mancini a genius of spectacle football, Kayode the new Hakimi, the Esposito brothers an early version of the Derrik twins, Calafiori a modern Jesus healing Turkish children by letting them touch the hem of his shirt. “Perfect Italy”, the quiff stands on end. That euphoria is likely to last only until Friday, when France is expected to defeat the Azzurri, prompting a return to familiar critiques of the system, the early teaching of tactics to young players, a perceived lack of creativity, and fresh lamentations over the departures of Conte and Gattuso. A more measured perspective is advisable, as unchecked enthusiasm can give way to disillusionment as quickly as a post-whisky hangover.

It must be acknowledged: we had not become accustomed to it. The question arises: is it all down to the Azzurri, or is this Turkish side simply a modest one that was poorly organised on the pitch?

It is a legitimate question. The gulf between the Italian national team at the Olimpico and that at the Timsah Arena is enormous – far greater than the 1,200 kilometres separating them as the crow flies, and certainly longer than the three days’ gap between the two matches. Perhaps Roberto Mancini had seen it coming when he spotted a glimmer of quality and pride in the second half against Belgium. Perhaps the national team led by Vincenzo Montella was simply an easy opponent. One does not rule out the other. The fact is that the manager has found a way to patch up some of the Azzurri’s problems, which are still there and remain a cause for concern, but are a little less so than before. Because, at the very least, the impression from Turkey was that the players have rediscovered the desire to run and give their all on the pitch. And compared to the last four years, that’s no small thing.

Roberto Mancini’s Italy played an excellent first half, which was entertaining at times. They went into the break 3–0 up, thanks to goals from Alessandro Bastoni, Davide Frattesi and Michael Kayode, without being troubled by their opponents’ play – or rather, lack of play. The second half began with a sense of impending disaster. The national team appeared to have lost their concentration and determination once again, and Barış Alper Yılmaz scored just two minutes into the second half. Three minutes later, however, the Turkish defence misplaced a pass; Nicolò Cambiaghi won the ball back, played it to Sandro Tonali, who produced one of the many fine moments he had yesterday – an angled shot that hit the post. Francesco Pio Esposito was there, capitalising on the Turkish defenders’ lapse in concentration, and headed home to make it 1–4.

Then Italy struggled, though never excessively. After fifty-five minutes of relative inactivity, Arda Güler stepped up his involvement, prompting Roberto Mancini to sigh, look around, and perhaps even feel a twinge of envy towards his counterpart. The manager does not have a player like that in his squad; a player who is genuinely skilful on the ball, with the flair and talent of a number 10 – we have not seen one like that in the blue shirt for quite some time. Mancini appeared restless for a few minutes, but soon returned to bellowing instructions, urging his players to maintain their distances and positions. All in all, it was half an hour of old-school football, with Italy doing reasonably well—not conceding a goal.

Now we just have to wait until Friday to see how things go against France on the third matchday of the Nations League. Let’s hope that the enthusiasm of the less experienced players has instilled a bit of a willingness to make sacrifices in the more experienced ones.

And so Roberto Mancini has decided that it is time to start trusting those he had deemed worthy of the Azzurri shirt but had kept on the sidelines, as if they were the last possible resort in an attempt to revive a half-dead body. Because the first version of the (not-so-)new Italy carried with it everything that was wrong with the old one: a fear of failure and a certain sense of arrogance.

The approach, however, is not too dissimilar to the one used against Belgium: a conservative reshuffle. A few adjustments, not least with a view to the other two matches the national team will face. In short, it’s a case of rotation. With the hope that it’s not just a matter of rotation.

Michael Kayode and Issa Doumbia are set to make their debuts for Italy. The former is a 22-year-old full-back for Brentford, whilst the latter is a 22-year-old midfielder for Sporting Lisbon. Giorgio Scalvini, a 23-year-old centre-back for Atalanta with nine caps for Italy and long regarded as the ‘enfant prodige’ of the Italian defence, will start the match. All three are considered very young. This is one of the main problems with Italian football: regarding players as very young when they already have several years’ experience in the top European leagues (with the exception of Doumbia, who moved in the summer from Venezia in Serie B to the Champions League with the Portuguese side).

Roberto Mancini tried to rely on experience; he ended up with a squad of fairly experienced players, driven by a fear of failure but too arrogant to admit it. Certainly not all of them, but a large majority certainly were.

The new signings, alongside Nicolò Cambiaghi – one of the few to have performed well against Belgium and himself a young player despite being twenty-five, turning twenty-six in December – and Davide Frattesi, who has been in superb form since joining Lazio, will try to instil the optimism needed to play football.

Will that be enough? Not necessarily. But at the very least it’s a sign – admittedly a weak and somewhat slapdash one, but at least it’s something.

But the last home match, a win against Daniele De Rossi’s Genoa, suggested anything but a farewell. He had perhaps given a few hints during the press conference immediately after the match against Genoa, just a week ago. In response to the first question, he began by thanking everyone, spoke of his gratitude for all the work done up to that point, and mentioned that he had seen great team spirit. Journalists in the press room detected a particular emotion in his words, to the point that he was asked: “Coach, were you crying?” He replied that he was not, although his slightly glistening eyes told a different story.

Passion, after all, never seems to have been in short supply. In some online videos of the team’s training sessions, this young man – who appears very quiet and composed – is transformed on the pitch: not so much through his voice, which is certainly louder than usual, but through spontaneous and visceral body language. That said, the precise reasons behind this sudden split remain unclear, but over recent months Cuesta has demonstrated a response that is consistently technical, incisive, never trite, and always competent. At that same press conference, he already knew that the match against Genoa had been the one in which the team had conceded the fewest expected goals out of these first five matches. But Cuesta is not just about analysis. In an interview with La Gazzetta dello Sport before the start of the season, he said: “Last year I was afraid. But fear helps you stay alert; without it, I’d be irresponsible.” In another lengthy video interview, this time with Cronache di Spogliatoio, he stated that “life is what happens whilst you’re making plans”. He said this whilst recalling the call from Parma, which came just as he was organising, together with Arteta, the Gunners’ annual programme. In an age where social media expresses part of who we are, in Cuesta’s case it seems to best represent the value of his silences.

Since he was appointed manager, he has published four posts: three of these, in fact, were published in collaboration with Parma around the time of his presentation. In reality, he has only published the one announcing his departure. Concise, to the point, and free from the media hype. “I’ve given it my all,” reads the post in which he bids farewell to the club and the Gialloblù supporters. Scrolling through the comments, not a single negative one is to be found. To tell the truth, it is hard to find any that relate solely to the sporting side of things. It seems that everyone there has learnt to appreciate this young man’s humanity. After all, for him, “football is life, and life is everything”. 

At the gates of the Palaeur – a venue which, in the minds of Romans, is now a distant memory, having once been home to Virtus Roma – it is immediately apparent that this is no niche crowd. Queuing up are the youth team players, easily recognisable as they’re all wearing T-shirts with a yellow helmet on them, but alongside the die-hard fans, you can also spot families wearing T-shirts featuring Soulè and Candela – two Roma players, to be sure, but from the football team – as well as people whose attire suggests they’re not regulars at Italian sports arenas. It is clear, however, that the media campaign has borne fruit and Matiasic has succeeded in his aim of drawing attention back to a sport that hasn’t received much in Italy. Official figures confirm that there were 6,324 spectators in attendance – a figure not often seen in Serie A, partly because the arenas themselves do not allow for such large crowds. For this reason, the Palaeur was forced to open the third tier as well. The presence of such a diverse crowd, however, inevitably had an impact on the atmosphere. During the warm-up, the announcer attempted to liven things up and even initiated what was intended to be the main chant by calling out ‘Maxima’ syllable by syllable, in an effort to forge a bond between the fans and the team from the outset; but after a few seconds the chant died down and never resurfaced spontaneously during the match.

This is because a sense of belonging doesn’t spring from nowhere. This was Maxima’s first official match and many people knew the players only by reputation, such as Miro Bilan, a veteran who had previously played for Sassari and Brescia, and John Brown III, best remembered in Italy for his two years at Brindisi. And it was clear that, like the fans, the team – coached by Matteo Cotelli – is still trying to find its footing. Alongside Bilan and John Brown III, the Bosnian-American Mirza Alibegović and Aaron Shawn Holiday – brother of the more famous Jrue Randall, who won an NBA championship ring with the Boston Celtics in 2024 – also stood out. Last night’s match was never really in the balance. Maxima were constantly playing catch-up against Napoli, who had boosted the competitiveness of their squad over the summer by signing the Italian trio of Spissu, Petruccelli and Caruso. By the end of the third quarter, the match was already heading towards defeat for Roma, so much so that in the final minutes of the game, some members of the crowd could already be seen getting to their feet to avoid getting stuck in traffic.

Beating Napoli was no mean feat, especially for a newly formed team. But, setting aside the points lost in the league table, the victory would have been significant also because the day before, the capital’s other team – Basketball Club Roma, set up by Slovenian basketball player Luka Doncic this summer – had lost to Treviso. A different result yesterday at the Palaeur would certainly have been the spark needed to ignite a rivalry amongst the fans, and in turn strengthen their bond with the team – as happens, for example, when Lazio and Roma face off on the football pitch. But for all this to happen, it is not enough simply to buy the Brescia franchise, sign players and create a spectacle with dance performances, light shows that make it look as though flames are shooting up from the court, and music reminiscent of the Gladiator soundtrack. It takes time. Time for people to identify with the team to the point where they are willing to travel to an away fixture, in an arena packed with 6,324 opposing fans, and never stop chanting in support of their players. So much so that the home fans end up looking like the away supporters.

Luna Rossa won, hands down, the America’s Cup preliminary regattas which concluded yesterday in Naples, against a backdrop of Vesuvius, Castel dell’Ovo and Ischia: an enchanting setting. This success mirrors that achieved in Cagliari last May, once again securing victory in the final match race (just two boats competing head-to-head) between the top two crews in the standings following eight fleet races. Before decisively beating the New Zealanders, Luna Rossa had won four of those eight races.

The teams will not now compete against each other again until 22 May 2027, when the Louis Vuitton Cup qualifiers begin, which will determine who will be the official challenger seeking to wrest the America’s Cup from Emirates Team New Zealand. The Kiwis have held the ‘Auld Mug’ without interruption since 2019, having previously been the Defenders from 1995 to 2003.

Will Luna Rossa be the team to reach the ‘Match’, which is also set to take place in Naples between 10 and 18 July 2027? The crew that wins seven races will claim the ‘Vecchia Brocca’. Predictions in sailing are more complicated than in other sports, because it is often the wind that decides the outcome. Back in 2024 in Barcelona, the boat that today flies the flag of the Circolo della Vela e del Remo di Napoli – but which had previously been affiliated with the Yacht Club Punta Ala, the Yacht Club Italiano in Genoa and the Circolo della Vela Sicilia – was considered the favourite to win the Louis Vuitton Cup and go on to challenge the New Zealanders, but was overtaken by the British team from Ineos, who were let down by a few flaws in the mechatronics (the high-tech heart of these cutting-edge boats). Now Luna Rossa has a trump card to play: his name is Peter Burling, he is New Zealand-born and has won the America’s Cup three times with his home country’s team, but he was won over by the Italian challenge and a millionaire’s contract. If the Italian boat has won in both Cagliari and Naples, it is undoubtedly down to him; the rest of the crew has changed: replacing Ruggero Tita as second helmsman is Marco Gradoni, a talent of unquestionable and crystal-clear calibre; Maria Giubilei, the team’s ‘philosopher’ with her degree of which she is so proud, has taken the place of Vittorio Bissaro; and Luigi Ugolini, who, alongside Maria and as a world champion in the Nacra 17 flying catamaran, has replaced Umberto Molineris.

The preliminary races are contested using identical 12-metre boats; next year, however, the competition will switch to 22-metre AC75s, which will have a crew of five plus one guest, with a requirement for at least one woman on board. Under the regulations, no new boats may be built; instead, the boats used in Barcelona must be utilised, with substantial modifications planned to the electronics (the power for certain manoeuvres will no longer come from cyclists but from batteries) and to the hydrofoils that enable the boats to fly. The designers are, of course, working to avoid the mistakes of 2024, and Peter Burling’s contribution is fundamental in this regard too.

Luna Rossa was the only team to have already chosen, back in Naples, to include a woman in its main crew; Maria Giubilei is certainly now in a strong position for next year as well. The rest of the crew is yet to be decided; the rotation between Cagliari and Naples was planned, and Burling’s choice – together with that of the big boss, Max Sirena – will certainly be a key factor here too, as there is certainly no shortage of talent, as has been demonstrated.

Today, Spanish women’s football has become a global benchmark, a model for Italy to follow as well. La Selección won the World Cup in 2023 and reached the final of the European Championship in 2025. Its star players have dominated the Ballon d’Or podium for the past five years: Aitana Bonmatí has won it three years running, whilst Alexia Putellas has won it twice.

In the past, however, the best Spanish female players were drawn precisely to the Italian league. Ángeles Parejo arrived in our country in 1988, having been spotted by Torino alongside her twin sister Isabel. Ángeles was eighteen years old and was already part of her national team’s squad. In Italy, she played for 23 seasons, winning four league titles, five Coppa Italia trophies and two Super Cups, and scoring some 538 league goals and 814 across all competitions. No Spanish female footballer has ever achieved so much here. Today, she coaches Polisportiva Ossese in Sardinia, in the Eccellenza league.

“At the time, I was really sorry to leave my large family,” Parejo tells Il Foglio Sportivo, “but Spanish football was far less developed than Italian football. Now it’s incredible to see how the situation has been turned on its head.”

Parejo has spent her entire footballing career in Italy, often having to take on a second job to make ends meet: she worked as a barista in the mornings before heading to training in the afternoons. It was also through chatting with customers that she learnt Italian so well right from the start. She had already made her debut for the Spanish national team at just 17, going on to play a leading role years later at the 1997 European Championship (scoring three goals). In between, however, there had been a long spell of absence: the Spanish Football Federation preferred to avoid calling up players from abroad, perhaps for financial reasons. “Back in my days with the Spanish national team, the women played in the same kits as the men,” the coach admits.

Her family, where everyone was passionate about football, always encouraged her to pursue her own passion. “Back then, my schoolmates didn’t come out onto the street to play because their fathers and brothers wouldn’t let them: there was a strong macho mentality,” recalls Parejo, “which hasn’t completely disappeared in Spain today, but has certainly improved a great deal. In fact, it’s now common for young boys to look up to Aitana, Putellas and Hermoso as role models. And in Spain, seeing a little girl playing football has been the norm for a few years now. In Italy, the situation is certainly improving, but we’re still lagging behind. We should ensure that this becomes the norm here too.”

Amidst the collective craze for ‘cromos’ (stickers) at Spanish newsagents, the La Liga F album is always on display alongside the men’s version. In Madrid, at Puerta del Sol, where the Legends museum traces the history of world football through historic shirts and memorabilia, in the final room, alongside Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, Vinícius Jr, Modrić, Pedri and Neymar, there is also space for the shirt worn by Alexia Putellas in the quarter-finals of the 2023 World Cup against the Netherlands and for her 2022 Ballon d’Or. Recently, there has been talk that the Spanish Football Federation is in the process of finalising an agreement with a specialist clinic to allow female national team players to freeze their eggs.

The Spanish women’s national team has also managed to move past the Luis Rubiales affair, which led to the resignation of the president of the Real Federación Española de Fútbol after he kissed Jennifer Hermoso without her consent during the celebrations following their World Cup victory. “An inappropriate gesture, typical of a patriarchal environment. It’s right that those who make mistakes should face the consequences. The players reacted as they should have, asserting their rights.”

Parejo also maintains that, in footballing terms, the two national teams – the men’s and the women’s, both reigning world champions – share the same identity. “The two national teams are very similar, both tactically and technically; in fact, they adopt the same principles of possession and pressing. They almost seem like the same team. Both sides really play like a club; they are extremely close-knit and deeply attached to the ‘camiseta roja’.”

According to the Spanish coach, now an Italian by adoption, “we need to follow the example of Spanish men’s clubs that believe in women’s football, and have serious people on the staff to build from the youth academy upwards. Building a successful development programme requires, above all, patience. With young people, you mustn’t just be coaches, but first and foremost educators. A few years ago, Barcelona opened the doors of La Masia to girls from the youth academy and the first team, who now train in the same facilities. That’s how it should be done.”

With over 800 goals scored in Italy, a footballer like Parejo would not have needed to work as a barista today. In a league like the Spanish one, characterised by impressive peaks in attendance at big matches, the highest salaries remain the preserve of the top players. There is no shortage of players heading abroad in search of more lucrative contracts, as demonstrated by Jennifer Hermoso’s decision to move to Mexico in 2022. Meanwhile, Real Madrid Women have signed an Italian player, bringing in former Juventus player Arianna Caruso from Bayern Munich.

“I would have done anything for football,” concludes Parejo, “I was even bullied: just to be able to play, I pretended to be a boy. Spanish football is professional today, and female footballers have what we didn’t have. The girls in this national team were born to play football, just like some of us back then, but they have contracts and sponsors. If I’d been born now, with my mindset and coming from my family – very humble but very close-knit – I’d be a millionaire in today’s football.”

For this reason, I was taken aback to read that a seemingly mad Tuscan (of that sort of madness, and so on) like Silvio Baldini, the manager of our Under-21 national team, considers a fellow Tuscan to be a true embodiment of the kind of football we should be but are not yet. Baldini was referring to Massimiliano Alvini, a native of Fucecchio, a hamlet near Florence, who is currently manager of Frosinone. “His team,” Baldini said, “embodies Italian football.” The remark prompted further reflection on what exactly he meant. Alvini has a lengthy career behind him, having started out as a manager 26 years ago. As a player, he only spent a few seasons as an amateur, cut short by a serious knee injury. In 2000, he began coaching in Signa’s youth teams and from there, slowly, like a mountaineer on a cliff face, he climbed the mountain, reaching the summit (Serie A) only 22 years later, with Cremonese. With the Lombardy side, he played a simple brand of football, focusing on the front foot rather than the back. His spell lasted just 18 matches, during which Cremonese never won and, if anything, lost a great deal – 11 times, in fact – before he was sacked.

He appears to be one of those coaches destined to return home somewhat frustrated, telling his wife he is not cut out for the top level. There are many similar stories, and they all sound entirely plausible. Not least because Alvini went on to repeat the pattern over the next two years. He moved to Spezia and was sacked, then to Cosenza, where they dismissed him only to rehire him – yet still could not avoid relegation. If a Tuscan is mad, life is even madder, so much so that it offered the manager from Fucecchio an incredible new opportunity. It happened in Frosinone, where he secured a magnificent promotion, followed by today’s excellent sixth-place finish in Serie A.

What has happened? What has happened is that, over the last four or five years, Alvini has changed his philosophy. From a manager who was content simply to play the game, he has transformed himself into a manager who wants to dominate. He has studied the best – from Pep to Luis, from Jürgen to Luciano – and has adapted his style of play. His vision of football, once head-on, has become more lateral, leading observers to believe that even an unlikely Tuscan—a bit fair-haired and a bit greying, aged 56, who has always been mired in the lower echelons of the game—could actually become a role model, just as the ‘anarchist’ Baldini has declared. Such is life, my friends. One can choose to settle for the status quo or evolve, grow, and change, adopting a perspective that only a Tuscan can offer.

Brandon McNulty deserved that look of amazement and that smile. He earned it because, in a World Championship that was excellent, spectacular, disjointed and, at times, excessive, he managed to seize the right moment – the one that allowed him to set himself apart from the confusion of too many aspirations to win and too many talented riders. Thirty-three kilometres of solitude at the front of the pack, many of which were spent whilst most believed – though certainly not him – that a single burst of speed would be enough to catch him. Good intentions are of no use unless they are put into practice. Brandon McNulty was action, not intention. A surge and a simple message to everyone: now come and catch me. No one managed it.

And no one managed it, thanks in part to the excellent work of Mateo Jorgenson, his rival throughout the year and team-mate at the World Championships. The American from Team Visma chased down everyone, settling on the wheel of anyone who tried to chase his compatriot. He quashed any sense of excitement.

Brandon McNulty has won a marvellous, thrilling World Championship, one that remained in the balance right to the end.

A World Championship that should have crowned Mathieu van der Poel as Best Actor, joint with the American. The Dutch champion shook up the race with an attack ninety-nine kilometres from the finish, and tried to turn it on its head with Wout van Aert ninety-one kilometres from the line. At one point the Belgian gave up (sacrificing himself in an attempt to rouse a slumbering Remco Evenepoel), but the Dutchman did not. He finished the race in third place on a course that seemed too gruelling for him. His talent, however, is capable of overshadowing the metres of elevation gain. Between the first breakaway and the final sprint for second place (won by Michael Matthews, who was also exceptional in ensuring he was among the leaders), he managed to lay bare all the talent and limitations in race management of Isaac Del Toro and Paul Seixas. The Dutchman was a demiurge, the creator of chaos.

And just like McNulty and van der Poel, the award for Best Leading Actor should also go to the Montréal circuit, which has continually shaken up the plot of these World Cycling Championships. Tough, but not excessively so; extremely complex; full of gaps – the sort that the cyclists’ imagination manages to fill. This is the World Championship route that takes centre stage every September at the Grand Prix Cycliste de Montréal. It’s just that the preconception that leads people to regard North American races as second-rate often prevents us from truly appreciating it. This is despite the fact that the Grand Prix Cycliste de Montréal has, in recent seasons, been one of the most interesting races of the year. It deserved a better stage. It got it at the World Championships.

They’ll say: yes, but Tadej Pogacar wasn’t there. Those who are present are in the right; those who are absent are in the wrong. Brandon McNulty won – a rider far too polite and too kind to make his voice heard. He made his voice heard in Canada. He looked at his jersey, and the tears stopped flowing. 

2023: Leclerc finished fifth in the drivers’ championship, with one Grand Prix victory for Sainz and third place in the constructors’ championship (with Red Bull, led by Horner, finishing ahead of both Mercedes and Ferrari).

2024 was the best year: Leclerc finished third in the drivers’ championship, with a total of five wins (three for the Monegasque driver and two for Sainz) and a creditable second place behind McLaren (666 points to 652).

2025 was a disaster, with zero wins (Leclerc fifth in the drivers’ championship) and a dreadful fourth place in the constructors’ championship.

2026 is right before our eyes. Two wins, but five matches without making the podium.

The question is: would sacking Vasseur be enough to give the Prancing Horse another chance to fight for the title? The answer is, sadly, no. Vasseur has never won a world title; he came from a smaller team, Sauber/Alfa Romeo. If, in nearly four years, Ferrari has won eight races – the same number of times Kimi Antonelli has crossed the finish line first this year – placing all the blame on Vasseur is a dishonest way of dealing with the situation. It is said that Ferrari does not have a problem with its drivers. That is true. They do their best; they make mistakes too, as everyone does, but they remain a solid asset you can rely on. The fact that Ferrari – a constructor in the purest sense of the word – has the engine as its weak point, in terms of the power delivered on the straights, sends shivers down the spine.

But let’s return to Vasseur and Horner. Maurizio Arrivabene, who knows that pit wall and that company well, has made it clear that there is no one capable of solving all problems with a magic wand. And – though this is the writer’s own addition – Chris Horner is probably the least suited to fitting into an environment like the one in Modena. Horner has won a great deal, a tremendous amount. That is undeniable. However, he achieved those successes in a completely different context, alongside a figure like Helmut Marko—someone who is simply unimaginable at Maranello. Ferrari, understood as an overall working group, is clearly a place of passion but also one of extremely complex management. Horner has very few friends in the paddock; his split from Red Bull was traumatic. Now he is putting himself forward to the Scuderia, declaring himself willing—how generous of him—not to receive any shares in the company (which does not appear to be in the habit of granting them) and ready to ruffle Toto Wolff’s feathers. Marchionne and Arrivabene managed to do so in the past. But we are talking about two heavyweights. These days, Toto can’t help but laugh if Elkann and Vasseur turn up taking a hard line – though when would they ever do that?

Maranello’s ‘political clout’ is at an all-time low. The brand is solid, as is its reputation. But it is always others who claim the victories. Now more than ever, it will be up to the Elkann-Vigna duo to decide whether to give Vasseur another season or to let him go at the end of this one. They are well aware that whilst it is easy to know who to let go, it is not so easy to know who to find. And that what is needed, more than an alpha male leader, is someone capable of reconciling the various factions within the Scuderia, bringing engine and chassis engineers into agreement and, if possible, persuading some of the engineering talents who left the Via Emilia to go and excel elsewhere to return. Who can do this? There are two or three possible names, people who are doing very well elsewhere. The fear is that without authoritative leadership at the very top – something the Founder, Luca di Montezemolo and Jean Todt, and, to some extent, Marchionne, were able to provide – even the role of Team Principal risks becoming nothing more than a smokescreen.

Another round of racing is scheduled for next Sunday in Sepang, where the Bahrain Grand Prix will be rescheduled. The series then moves directly to Singapore. Two circuits which, on paper, are less challenging for Ferrari. It remains to be seen whether a stroke of luck might emerge to drive a wedge between those who suffer (the Ferrari faithful) and those who offer themselves up (Horner). 

In Rome, horses used to race between Capannelle and Tor di Valle, with gallop races at the former racecourse and trotting races at the latter. Then Tor di Valle was abandoned, leaving only Capannelle. Even the racecourse along the Appian Way was in danger of becoming nothing more than a memory. On 5 January, Hippogroup, which had been managing the facility for years, handed it back to the local council: the operation had been running at a loss, partly due to the diversion of prize money from certain races to other venues, and partly because of the decline in interest in horse racing. For a long time, Rome was in danger of saying goodbye to horse racing. It returned in September. On 20 September, a major event allowed enthusiasts to relive bygone moments, one hundred years on from the major refurbishment of one of Italy’s most beautiful racecourses.

Capannelle has reopened; people have returned to take their seats in the stands, bringing life to the square overlooking the oval where the horses warm up and the large platform onto which the jockeys mount their horses. All around, there’s a sense of cheerful decay: a toppled telephone box, rust and peeling paint on the posts of the upper walkway, weeds on the stands’ canopies, and flaking walls in the betting hall. Yet the place is alive – noisy, chaotic, filled with shouts of ‘aho’ and ‘daje’, of ‘imbeccate bbone’ and ‘vale manco du spicci’. Horse names are bandied about as if they were footballers’ names. Bizarre and pretentious names, both quintessentially Italian and international. “They’ve always fancied themselves,” comments a gentleman in his sixties, glancing at a well-known Roman horse owner and reading the name of the gelding due to race shortly afterwards on the race programme. Francesco Rutelli is there too – not exactly the latest in politics.

Capannelle has been revitalised by that motley mix of humanity that has always found refuge amongst the betting shops and the stands at the racecourses. Giovanni Arpino recalled the jumble of “the smells of cigarettes, beer too lukewarm to drink, the odour of underarms and tension”. Now the prevailing smells are the fumes from smokeless cigarettes and the sickly-sweet scent of energy drinks. Only the body odour remains the same. Hygiene, however, has improved. Or perhaps the tension surrounding the betting has eased.

There remain the gentlemen dressed as horsemen from across the Channel; the ladies in beautiful, flowing floral dresses as ethereal as their overpoweringly fragrant perfumes; the nervous fingers of those clutching the slip of paper that might bring joy to their wallets; and the old relics of the good old days, when racecourses were the centre of the world, even if only their own.

The venue was also crowded with social climbers who had come for the major event, because in Rome such occasions are simply not to be missed. Two former youths in tight-fitting jeans, their vests clearly visible beneath a floral shirt, are chatting and laughing, a beer in one hand and an e-cigarette in the other. A gentleman dressed for a fox hunt looks at them, shakes his head, and heads towards the clubhouse. Outside the clubhouse, another gentleman is getting worked up, shouting and making threats. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m the one who’ll gouge your eyes out! I’ll gouge your eyes out! Don’t you get it? I’m the one. This is my stuff; I’ve been here forever. With my horses.” He introduces himself as C. from the C. family, who owned the horses and who, as well as running the horses, were involved in other business dealings in Rome. Many other businesses, not all of them legal. An old man with long white hair leads him away, talks to him, calms him down. They go off together to watch the race. “Oh, this horse is really, really good! Guaranteed.” So good, in fact, that he won’t win the race.

Capannelle has reopened; Capannelle hasn’t changed.

Tomorrow marks the 26th anniversary of another miracle, known as ‘Miracolo sul tappeto’ (the Washington Post ran the headline ‘The miracle on the mat’). Once again, it was an American versus a Russian. Not a Soviet (the USSR no longer existed), but a Russian. The 2000 Sydney Olympics: the Cold War was a distant memory. In the updated medal table, following successive revocations and reallocations, the United States tops the list with 37 gold medals and 93 in total; Russia is second with 32 golds and 89 in total. A truly narrow margin. In the predictions leading up to the XXVII Olympic Games – an exercise that often goes very wrong and rarely comes close to reality – one medal that was not just certain, but absolutely, positively certain for the Russians was the one in Greco-Roman wrestling, in the 130 kg category. There was not a single person, expert or novice, who did not award it, without any ifs or buts, to the ‘Russian bear’ Aleksandr Karelin. ‘Russian bear’ is not a particularly original phrase and is often used inappropriately. Now, Karelin was so tall and massive that the comparison with a bear was perhaps a tad exaggerated. But for the bear. In Greco-Roman wrestling, being a giant bear is not the only requirement. However, it certainly helps.

The name and modern rules of this discipline originated in France during the nineteenth century. Initially, it was simply known as ‘French wrestling’ or ‘open-handed wrestling’. During the period of rediscovery of the ancient classics, sports organisers and promoters sought to lend an air of nobility to this sport and chose to link it to the traditions of hand-to-hand combat practised in ancient Greece and the Roman Empire, regarding it as the modern evolution of the ideals of strength and virility. In Greco-Roman wrestling, unlike freestyle wrestling, wrestlers are not permitted to make holds below the belt nor to actively use their legs to attack or trip their opponent. The action is concentrated on the upper body. Therefore, the contest is a test of power and technique in the arms and torso.

In all this, Aleksandr Karelin is literally unbeatable. His record speaks louder than any commentary. Karelin lost the first match of his career – the very first he ever contested – at the 1987 Soviet National Championships. He was defeated by Igor Rostorotsky. From that point on, he went 13 years without ever losing. From 1987 to 2000, no one stood a chance. From 1994 right up to the final in Sydney in 2000, the Russian did not concede a single point to his opponents. He kept them all at zero. It was a feat in itself just to move that mountain, let alone take home a point.

On the eve of the Olympic final, his senior career record is staggering: 887 victories and just one defeat. Many of these victories—practically all of those that enabled him to win three gold medals at Seoul 1988, Barcelona 1992 and Atlanta 1996, as well as nine consecutive world titles alongside 12 European golds—were secured with the famous and unbeatable ‘Karelin lift’. A devastating move, impossible to counter.

At a certain point in the bout, the Russian giant would lift enormous opponents off the ground whilst they were in a defensive position on the mat. He would then hurl them onto the mat with a reverse suplex. In itself, it was a devastating move. Even more effective, if that were needed, was the psychological terror that the lift instilled in his rivals. They stepped onto the mat already certain of the final verdict. On that occasion, on 27 September 2000, in the wrestling hall, an opponent with a different attitude stepped up to face Karelin. Rulon Gardner was as big and burly as the sole contender for the gold. He came from Afton, which at the time had fewer than two thousand inhabitants in the state of Wyoming. From a young age, he and his eight brothers and sisters had been accustomed to hard work on their parents’ farm.

In 1998, he had been one of the many athletes soundly beaten by Karenin. That time, too, it was no contest: Gardner was dominated by the Russian, who had lifted him off his feet and thrown him to the mat no fewer than three times. That defeat, however, proved extremely valuable to Rulon Gardner, who had gained an important insight: he now knew what not to do and how not to approach the match. Otherwise, he would have been number 888 under the heading: ‘Karenin’s victories’. Eight-eight-eight, a triple infinity already written in the stars for everyone. Except for Gardner, who, before Sydney, had ‘only’ been champion at the Pan American Games – twice. The bout begins without a hitch; the first period is one of caution. The score remains 0–0. Everyone—Gardner included, of course—is waiting for Karelin to unleash his trademark move, the reverse body lift. Gardner does just one thing, but he does it brilliantly: he prevents the contest from being decided by sheer strength alone. He would stand no chance otherwise. He applies constant pressure, trying to make the contest uncomfortable and gruelling.

The second round begins, and here comes the unexpected twist. According to the rules of the time, after a first round ending 0–0, the bout resumed with a compulsory hold, the clinch. The two must lock arms around each other’s torsos. It is an extremely delicate position: whoever manages to maintain the hold can score the decisive point. And this is where Gardner finds his chance. Karelin tightens his grip. Gardner resists. The two push and battle for every centimetre. Then, for a split second, the Russian’s grip slips. It is a minuscule detail. The referees halt the action and consult the replay to review the sequence. The footage confirms that Karelin has lost his grip by the narrowest of margins. The point is awarded to Gardner! For the first time in living memory, Karelin is on the back foot. Gardner no longer needs to build an attack; he must prevent Karelin from regaining the point. If only it were that easy. The Russian keeps pushing; the American holds firm. Gardner’s physical conditioning becomes just as important as his technical skill. Karelin had already fought in the quarter-finals and semi-finals earlier that very same day. He was beginning to feel the fatigue. Karelin remains an outstanding champion, exerting almost unreal physical pressure on his opponent. But Gardner does not give him the opening the Russian is looking for. And the minutes tick by. The score remains 1–0. ‘A close call,’ some might say today. Time runs out; Karelin walks away from the mat. Gardner has won. The unbeatable one… has been beaten.

Gardner prevailed primarily because he succeeded in neutralising Karelin’s strengths. The Russian was accustomed to imposing his strength, lifting his opponents and turning physical superiority into technique. Gardner, however, prevented him from finding the necessary distance and position. He did not give Karelin the kind of contest the Russian typically imposed on others. When the only real opportunity of the final presented itself, Gardner was lethal in capitalising on it. Gardner had not suddenly become stronger than Karelin; he had simply found Superman’s kryptonite and, that evening, he had used it. There would be no rematch: it had already taken place, given that they had faced each other once before. And, unlike Ali v Frazier, nobody sought to stage ‘the rematch’. At Athens 2004, Gardner went on to win the bronze. Karelin decided that this would be his final appearance. He finished with a record of 887-2. He lost the first and last matches of his career. In between, he remained unbeaten.

It is important to distinguish who is responsible for these measures. The revolution against time-wasting, already trialled during the last World Cup in the US, was introduced by IFAB – the game’s governing body – with a number of rules applicable worldwide: substitutions must be made within 10 seconds, a 5-second countdown for goal kicks, and a one-minute time-out for players requesting a stoppage due to injury – subject to a few common-sense exceptions. As Cesari points out, “Pierluigi Collina is also among the architects of this initiative”, who, as head of FIFA’s Referees’ Committee, has been working closely with IFAB for years to steer football towards the adoption of actual playing time. In this context, the Italian refereeing authorities are simply applying the new regulations. The changes that essentially reflect the guidelines set out by Daniele Orsato – who, since this summer, has been the appointing officer for match officials in Serie A and B – concern the use of technology. “And this is where some doubts arise, especially after watching the first matchday of the Champions League, where the presence of VAR remained evident and the number of penalties increased. Immediately afterwards, the use of technology began to rise again here too. Coincidence? I don’t think so. I believe that in the medium term we will find a middle ground to restore balance: let’s just say we’re right in the middle of the process.”

Football, therefore, remains more resilient than one might think, adaptable to change. But with the league season already underway, the situation in Italy is far from idyllic. Complaints are being voiced on several fronts regarding the near-disappearance of off-field reviews: just one incident triggered by VAR in the first 50 Serie A matches – Rapuano in Genoa v Frosinone – compared with six interventions across 18 Champions League matches. “Caution is needed, because there is still only one set of rules,” Cesari points out. “And it takes no time at all to fuel controversy. Which, incidentally, will never disappear; I’ve seen this for decades. Let’s hope, in the meantime, that there are fewer controversies than in previous years: that would already be a very significant step forward. Not least because our league is of a high standard and well-balanced. But let’s not talk about ‘English-style’ refereeing: in the Premier League today, they blow the whistle for more fouls than we do. If anything, it’s a modern approach, in which referees have to run much more and be quick to read the play. In a professional game that has become increasingly intense, it’s essential that referees have a thorough understanding of the team leaders and the dynamics of the game involving the players directly involved.” Tackling techniques, body feints, body language. “The golden rule? Never fall behind: if you’re not in the right position on the pitch, you can’t see much and you can’t rely on your imagination. So referees must be good at anticipating plays. With a sense of responsibility, but also with the awareness that they can be assisted. That’s where VAR intervention becomes crucial: if only I’d had it…”

Any regrets? “That Bierhoff goal: the ball had crossed the line by half a metre, but unfortunately I didn’t manage to see it,” recalls Cesari, referring to the controversial 4–1 Juventus v Udinese match in 1997. “And then van Basten’s sending-off in place of Aldo Serena,” Milan v Roma, 1991. “There was a miscommunication with the linesman. Today people would cry scandal, but back then there were just three of us ‘unlucky blokes’ on the pitch: now there are six-man refereeing teams, even eight in World Cup finals. Plus goal-line technology and the spray can for free-kicks: huge aids. Back then we worked three times as hard, but everything was still primitive, based on experience. Another U-turn I don’t like is the return to the ‘glass bell’, with referees no longer allowed to speak: technical and disciplinary progress also means opening up to the outside world and the media, especially in a hyper-exposed world like ours. Otherwise, no big deal – I’d have loved to referee today, no end. Perhaps with the champions of yesteryear, that’s for sure.”

That was also the case in 1974. At the time, however, everything was different. The World Championships had never been held outside Europe, and there were few races in Canada and the United States. The riders were seen as outsiders. A survey carried out by the Montreal Gazette, the city’s long-established daily newspaper, between May and July 1974 reported that only 19 per cent of readers knew who Eddy Merckx was – Merckx, the world’s most famous cyclist – but 38 per cent knew who Roger de Vlaeminck was. Not, however, for his sporting achievements: he bore a striking resemblance to an actor who was very popular at the time.

This is a different era. In Montréal, the number of monthly journeys made by bicycle exceeds that of journeys by car, and the city authorities estimate that by the end of 2026, there will be more people who do not use a private motorised vehicle at least once a week than those who do. In Montréal, bicycles are extremely widespread and cycling is a popular sport; Tadej Pogacar, Mathieu van der Poel, Wout van Aert and Remco Evenpoel are better known than the players in the Canadian national football team (not the ice hockey team, ed.).

For a year now, Montréal has been waiting to see how Tadej Pogacar would fare. Curious onlookers and fans were ready to see him in the rainbow jersey for the third time and make cycling history there. Instead, Peter Sagan will remain the only rider to have won the Road World Championships three times in a row. They’ve known this for a month, ever since the Slovenian crashed in the Vuelta. Knowing this, however, is one thing; seeing it – or rather, not seeing it – is quite another.

However, Tadej Pogacar’s absence has not dampened interest. Partly because Mathieu van der Poel, Mads Pedersen, Paul Seixas, Tom Pidcock, Wout van Aert and Remco Evenepoel are all taking part. Partly because people still talk about the spectacle of fifty years ago, one of the most thrilling World Championships in history. And there is still hope that it could turn out that way again. The final circuit is virtually the same: three short climbs, plenty of bends, a nerve-wracking course open to any possible outcome. The Slovenian’s absence also makes everyone realise that the World Championship is up for grabs. Even Italy has some hope of a podium finish with Giulio Ciccone, Giulio Pellizzari and Davide Piganzoli. For Lorenzo Mark Finn, however, it seems a little too early.

And yet, a century after Prohibition, that sense of regret remains. This time it’s not a moral one, just an exclamation: Pogi isn’t here – what a shame!

We may well be back to square one, but the important thing is not to end up like the orchestra that kept playing whilst the Titanic was sinking. President Petrucci maintains that “this is now the league of the present and the future, because basketball is changing. It has always been the first sport to change every year since the post-war period. This will be the most interesting league of them all, because the arrival of NBA Europe – which everyone said was impossible – is now official”. The summer was less successful for the Italian national teams than hoped, but at least the women’s team played with heart and the wheelchair basketball team won a silver medal at the World Championships. Gianni Petrucci, an incorrigible optimist, looks to the future and is enjoying the sudden emergence of two teams in Rome: “Sport is important when it touches the whole of Italy; the rest is just talk. There are sports that are important but are confined to small provinces; we have it all. Obviously, we’re not like football, but this is a league of the present that looks to the future with major changes ahead.”

It is best not to dwell on how we ended up with two teams in Rome. Brescia (now in Serie A2) and Cremona (which has disappeared) sold their sporting rights, Trieste was abandoned just as things were getting interesting, and seeing two major clubs vanish overnight simply because basketball was no longer viable for their owners is certainly food for thought. Moreover, the future of Rome’s second team remains uncertain, as NBA Europe has yet to select its partner for a project that is still entirely undefined. If we are to listen to a seasoned observer like Dan Peterson, the NBA’s arrival in Europe may not bring positive outcomes: “Look what happened in China after they arrived…”, he says; the outlook is not promising. For now, all we can do is wait and see.

Meanwhile, there is an Italian league to revitalise. There will be new sponsors, including some major ones; there will be three new venues (Venice, Bologna and Cantù), in addition to the one in Tortona which has just hosted the Super Cup finals, whilst we await the completion of the Foro Italico. “I don’t think there’s ever been a time when the basketball world was set to experience a season in which three sports arenas were to be inaugurated,” comments Maurizio Gherardini, the League president, quite rightly, emphasising how crucial it will be to foster cohesion amongst the clubs and adding: “We cannot expect to grow solely on the court: we must improve the quality of the experience, the facilities and everything surrounding the match.” Basketball needs iconic figures to tell its story. But unfortunately, there’s only one Pippo Ricci, and it comes as no surprise that last year’s most successful special programme broadcast by LBA TV was the one dedicated to Dino Meneghin.

The story is even more compelling than current events, and this is precisely what we need to focus on to attract new viewers. The Super Cup final between Milan and Venice was a good promotional event. It was a hard-fought match – perhaps not the most spectacular, but played right up to the last minute of extra time. “I’ve coached in six different countries: there’s no league as fiercely contested as the Italian one. Over the last three years, the champions have averaged eight defeats per season. And 30 per cent of matches are decided by a margin of between one and five points. These figures speak volumes about the standard,” explains Luca Banchi, head coach of the Italian national team, which is chasing World Cup qualification. “I’d like to see full arenas and Italian players being increasingly valued. I’m not in favour of a minimum quota in the rules; I’d rather an Italian player earns his place on merit, even if that makes his coach’s job more difficult.”

Luca Banchi also speaks of a new era for Italian basketball: “This is a special year; for the first time, in an environment that had given the impression of being perhaps a little too stagnant – where we used to complain about not having adequate facilities to promote our sport in terms of attendance and participation – we will have three new venues that I would describe as futuristic. All the ingredients are in place to envisage a new era for Italian basketball.” A new era in which we mustn’t worry ourselves thinking that our best young players have moved to American universities: “Four of our five most frequently used and most productive Under-23s from last season will be playing in America. A further 13 players have left and will be playing in Division One next year – the highest level of university basketball. We should expect this situation to continue for another couple of seasons. But then things will change, and we’ll need to be ready with an attractive league to welcome back our returning players,” analyses the head coach.

Not everyone will end up in the NBA, but we’ll have more mature players and individuals to bolster the league and the national team. We need to look to the future whilst building the present. Let’s not delude ourselves that everything is perfect and that the LBA is the best league in Europe. Let’s work to ensure it truly becomes so. The ‘Wizard’ Bargnani wants to give back what he has received from basketball. He could truly become an excellent executive and perhaps be the first to chart the course. Having his photo taken alongside Gianluca Gazzoli, the LBA’s strategic media adviser, helps, but it is not enough. The opportunity is there. It must not be wasted.

Much has changed since 1851, when the schooner America won the Hundred Guineas Cup by circumnavigating White Island, soundly defeating the British fleet. Gone are the days when the winner of the ‘Old Jug’ organised regattas on home waters. Consequently, the New Zealanders chose Naples precisely because they found in Italy the financial resources that the Auckland government was no longer willing to provide. In 2024, they had opted for Barcelona, but in the end, Barcelona proved unwilling to host the event. Naples, on the other hand, has an exciting track record from 2012 and 2013, but above all, the New Zealanders encountered the generosity of the Italian government, which has staked its faith on the event’s success. In short, it would have been more gratifying to bring the Cup to Italy as winners, but in 1992 Moro di Venezia and in 2000 and 2021 Luna Rossa lost the final challenge against the Americans and the New Zealanders. Now, 27 years on from Luna Rossa’s first challenge, the dream is to keep it in the ‘mare nostrum’ by winning next year.

The first day of racing was affected by a light and changeable wind, made worse by the rain that had fallen during the night. There were two attempts to start a race, but both were abandoned at the end of the first leg, where the wind out at sea prevented the boats from making headway. Just before five o’clock in the afternoon, the wind shifted to the east and picked up. Even on the Amerigo Vespucci, which had cast off from the Beverello quay for the occasion, smiles finally returned.

At the end of a day that seemed to last an eternity, they came away with two races that demonstrated the calibre of the senior Luna Rossa team, captained by the New Zealand star Peter Burling, who had already won the preliminary rounds in Cagliari in May, but who has changed his crew here, bringing on board Marco Gradoni as second helmsman and Gigi Ugolini and Maria Giubilei, promising young sailors invited to the big event. These are experiments for the future, when in 2027 the competition will feature a larger 75-foot (23-metre) boat, compared to the 40-foot (12-metre) boats used these days. With one second and one first place, they lead the provisional standings ahead of the senior New Zealanders and the Americans, who made their debut right here in Naples. Tomorrow there will be four races to make up for the one lost today, and on Sunday a further two fleet races, followed by the final match race between the top two in the standings.

The village on Via Caracciolo, closed to traffic, waits for the weekend to come to life; the floating pontoons with large screens set up by Sport e Salute can accommodate up to 150 people at a time on a rota basis and offer a prime vantage point, though the view of the regatta course is spectacular from anywhere along the seafront. In total, there are six large screens showing commentary alternating between English and Italian. Unsurprisingly, there was a banner protesting against major events and rearmament, carried by three activists and promptly seized by the police, who were out in force. Although Abodi and Manfredi are walking arm in arm through the village, there is a section of the city that views the America’s Cup as a smokescreen, particularly regarding the redevelopment of the Bagnoli area, where all the boat bases will be located next year. So far, however, the protests have been contained.

Until a few years ago, no one would have even dreamt of fielding a runner not yet twenty years old in professional races. Times have changed, however, and the age of entry has been brought forward. For some time now, Under-23s have been thinking and preparing more like professionals than amateurs. This is happening almost everywhere, with the exception of Italy, where there is still a belief that one must wait, pace oneself and take things slowly. Something is changing on the peninsula too. Not least because our talented riders are going abroad to race, and abroad they are brought through the ranks sooner, become men sooner, and are not considered ‘boys’ until they are thirty. In 2024, Lorenzo Mark Finn joined Team GRENKE – Auto Eder, the youth team of the former BORA-hansgrohe, now Red Bull-BORA-hansgrohe. Last year, he moved up to their development squad. Next year, he will make his professional debut as a full-fledged professional.

In between, there’s a World Championship to compete in for the national team. Nobody’s expecting anything of them; others will be the captains, whilst Giulio Ciccone, Giulio Pellizzari and Davide Piganzoli will be aiming for a place on the podium. Can they do it? It’s a long shot, but in Montréal it’ll be a tricky race – and, most likely, an unpredictable one.

Lorenzo Mark Finn, however, will be right there alongside them. The hope is that he will be as close to them as possible. Team manager Elia Viviani and head coach Roberto Amadio preferred to have him in the team: ‘It’s better that he learns straight away,’ they told themselves. Does it make sense to take things slowly in a sport that is accelerating? Watching Paul Seixas race, the answer is no. And this is a step forward for Italian cycling – a step forward that is by no means a foregone conclusion.

This year, Lorenzo Mark Finn won the Giro d’Italia U23 and the Tour de l’Avenir, the two most important stage races in U23 cycling. He did so whilst wearing the rainbow jersey – the one that either makes everything feel lighter or weighs down your legs like a twenty-kilo lead weight. In some races he has competed alongside the professionals; it hasn’t always gone well, but he took victory in the Sibiu Tour (a gruelling Romanian stage race) and showed promise in the Tour of the Alps before withdrawing.

Now everything is new, although nothing really is. The bikes are still the same, as is the rainbow you see everywhere. It is the legs pushing the pedals that have changed; the names and class of the contenders are what have changed irrevocably. Lorenzo Mark Finn sees all this and flashes a smile that is part embarrassed, part cheeky. He’d always dreamt of being there. He wanted nothing more, and he is determined to demonstrate that this is where he belongs.

And Amadio and Viviani were right to bring him to Montréal. He won’t get another chance like this – to race freely with the best possible excuse to justify it if things don’t go well: ‘I’m not even twenty yet’. An excuse that is, at the same time, a spur: ‘I’m not even twenty yet and I’m here, where I’ve always dreamed of being’. Cycling can be a dream.

At that moment, it came naturally to Elena Pero to mention Rino Tommasi, Gianni Clerici and Roberto Lombardi, as if to take a step back and pay tribute to her mentors, and she was saddened that they had not had the opportunity to report on an Italian’s victory at Wimbledon and, before that, an Italian’s appearance in the Wimbledon final (it was 2021 and, on that day too, as she took to the court, she had paid tribute to those who had gone before her).

Elena Pero was shy and curious, asking more questions than she gave answers, no matter who she was talking to – whether it was Paolo Bertolucci or an intern who, seeing her walking through the corridors, was learning to put a face to the ‘Voice of Tennis’.

Thirty-five years into her career, and the sense of wonder is still very much there – in those ‘what are we seeing?’ moments at three o’clock in the morning Italian time during a match between Sinner and Alcaraz at Indian Wells, and in that smile you could sense in her voice, which made even her listeners smile. She never missed a single one of Jannik Sinner’s training sessions; always a step behind and always attentive. If you asked her for a statistic, she’d pull a stack of notebooks with impeccable handwriting out of her locker, and inside was the statistic you were looking for. She was generous and meticulous; compliments embarrassed her, and she’d quickly change the subject. “Well done,” “No, they’re the ones who deserve the credit.”

She began commentating in the mid-1990s, at a time when it was hard even to imagine an Italian reaching the second week of Wimbledon; she chronicled the dark days, the emergence of the rivalry between Federer and Nadal and the arrival of Djokovic, and when the Italian team began to win, she remained true to her own style of commentary – something of which Rino Tommasi could have been proud. She wore glasses with thick frames, but her emotions were visible whenever she was moved or something amazed her. Sinner, for example. Sport in general.

No pedestals and no hashtags. Her tone of voice and her clarity have educated a public – perpetually torn between cheering for and against – about tennis and its unwritten rules. Through her example, Elena Pero has taught us that we can stand up for Sinner and for Alcaraz, for Federer and for Djokovic.

In a career spanning thirty-five years, were there any players who were unbearable, incomprehensible or boring, or any matches that perhaps would have been better never broadcast? No. For her, everyone deserved a question.

Those who shared a desk with her have written that she was even better as a person than she was as a journalist. As is being highlighted on Sky Sport at the moment, she has reached more Wimbledon finals than Roger Federer – fourteen in total, the last one on 12 July.

His latest match commentary concludes with these words: “A match that was not easy in the slightest ends with a winning forehand from Jannik Sinner, and for that reason we will remember it as infinitely beautiful.”

From here, we move into the realm of bonus payments, which are also organised according to the league structure. UEFA provides an incentive to stimulate competition right from the group stage, with a prize for the team that finishes top of its group. The figures are identical to the participation prize for each individual league, effectively doubling the amount that each national team can earn by finishing top of its group. Then there are the bonuses reserved solely for those participating in League A. Furthermore, since the last edition, the knockout stage has begun with the quarter-finals rather than the semi-finals, and this format has been confirmed for this year as well, thereby extending the next stage to include the runners-up from the four League A groups. The financial bonuses, however, remain the exclusive preserve of the semi-finalists. In fact, the team finishing fourth in the Nations League will receive a prize of 2.5 million. The third-placed team will receive 3.5 million, whilst the runner-up will receive 4.5 million. The team lifting the trophy will take home 6 million, which, when added to the participation prize and any bonuses, brings the total value to 10.5 million.

To these results must also be added those of the women’s national team, which lost 15–10 in a tie-break to Turkey in the European Championship final on 6 September. Since 2020, the Italian women’s team has won a European Championship, a World Championship and an Olympic gold medal.

The two defeats, which came in quick succession just a few days apart, certainly cannot call into question a movement that sees the women’s national team top the world rankings and the men’s team in second place. Can we make assessments and reflections? Of course. Can we dampen the enthusiasm that has characterised these past few years? Absolutely not. Not least because, prior to the defeat against Finland, Italy had got off to a flying start. In the group stage, the team led by Ferdinando De Giorgi had secured five wins out of five, including clear 3–0 victories over Greece and Sweden. Finland, for its part, is proving to be the surprise of the competition, winning four of its five group matches and beating Greece in the round of 16, despite initially being ranked 17th in the world – a position that has now risen to 12th. The Marttilla brothers, Luka and Noaa, caused the Italian block major problems, whilst opposite Jeonas Jokela dominated the match. After all, there was no shortage of internal issues. First and foremost, there were several absences compared to the last World Championship. Almost a year ago, Simone Anziani officially announced his retirement from the national team. Giovanni Gargiulo, on the other hand, retired due to mental health issues. Then there was Roberto Russo, who was struggling with back problems. All this was compounded by a match in which the Azzurri never gave the impression of being in control or of being able to keep up with the Finnish pace – not to mention the fact that the defeat was decided entirely in the tie-break.

However, the elimination came as a shock, and it could hardly have been otherwise. Reaching the semi-finals was almost taken for granted, even though a warning sign had emerged with the team’s elimination from the Nations League in the summer, again at the quarter-final stage. Some have ironically tried to blame the city of Turin. In 2018, during the final stage of the six-team World Cup, Italy lost in the quarter-finals at the Inalpi Arena, where the national team led by Chicco Benigni failed to reach the semi-finals following defeats against Poland and Serbia. Eight years on, just a few kilometres away, it was the Palavela that brought back the ghosts of the past, although, of course, the circumstances are completely different. Now De Giorgi’s task is to get a team back on track straight away – a team that has one of the most prestigious records in the history of Italian sport behind it; there is no choice but to start afresh from here. Competing for the European title will be Slovenia, Poland, Finland and France. For once, without too much guilt, we can sit back and watch.