The special mention for the best work on tennis goes to Giulia Della Cioppa, La mancina (Bompiani, 2026), a coming-of-age novel that opens with a sentence that is already a weltanschauung: “Much of what I know I learnt on a court”. The protagonist takes to the court at the age of nine, accompanied by a father who has only ever watered and swept the courts, who repeats “I had teeth but no bread” and places upon her shoulders the talent he was never able to nurture. “They’re watching us from up there; your path is written,” he says from outside the fence, but she, inside, sees something quite different. Then come the academy, the junior tournaments, the rankings, and the scales every morning. Della Cioppa writes with geometric precision and overturns the fairy tale of the champion moulded by a parent: here, the only way to save oneself is by stepping outside the fence.

Finally, the ‘Fuoriclasse’ section, read, selected and voted for by students, awards the prize to Rosario Esposito La Rossa for "La tregua di Natale" (Garrincha Edizioni, 2025). Flanders, December 1914, the trenches at Ypres, the first winter of a war that was supposed to end in a matter of weeks. On Christmas Eve, decorated trees appear in the German and British trenches, Christmas carols ring out, and the following morning, men who had previously been firing at one another step out into no man’s land, shake hands, exchange tobacco and chocolate and… kick a football about. The students’ decision to select this particular book in a period marked by conflict is an act of faith in the transformative power of sport: the stubborn—and by no means naïve—idea that a football can still break through barbed wire. While adults continue to dig trenches, young people, thankfully, keep searching for a football.

The current state of play, as seen during a site visit on Thursday. The reinforced concrete load-bearing structure is already clearly defined: it hints at the undulating shapes of the stands, creating an intimate and well-proportioned space where visibility will be excellent. Work is currently underway on installing the external metal cladding, which gives shape and character to the entire complex. This will be followed by the installation of the main roof structure, together with the final structural steelwork. Work will then move on to the interiors. According to the contractor, by the end of 2026, 45 per cent of the works will have been completed. The facility is scheduled for handover in December 2027, following 26 months of construction. The aim is to hold the grand opening in the following calendar year – certainly in time for the 2027/28 football season. However, Venezia’s management are confident they will be able to inaugurate the Bosco dello Sport a few months earlier, in the spring, whilst the league season is still underway. In short: the countdown has begun.

It will be an aesthetic, functional and geographical revolution for Venetian football. The old, romantic Penzo stadium will be retired after more than a century of distinguished service. No more Serie A football surrounded by water, in the heart of the lagoon, but this is the price to pay to propel Venezia into the modern age once and for all. The current stadium has a capacity of 12,000. Its successor at the Bosco dello Sport will have a capacity of 18,500, of which nearly 2,000 will be allocated to the hospitality area – four times the current size. It is a significant leap in scale, but not out of proportion: the club and industry insiders specifically wanted it this way. Even if this means – according to UEFA parameters – having to forgo the possibility of hosting major continental events, such as the European Football Championships. “The aim that guided our decisions was to optimise the stadium’s capacity and day-to-day use, avoiding the ‘cathedral in the desert’ effect,” explains Silvia Prandelli, senior principal at Populous, the international architecture and design firm in charge of the project. Its portfolio also includes the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium and the redevelopment of the Sinigaglia Stadium in Como. “Venice is set to become a model of excellence for Italian sports infrastructure. A project like this has been long overdue.”

Compared to the Penzo, which can only be reached on foot or by vaporetto, the Bosco dello Sport is strongly focused on accessibility: it is a stone’s throw from a motorway junction, near Marco Polo Airport, and will be linked to an extensive cycle and pedestrian network, pending the far more important rail link, the construction of which, however, will take at least a few more years. There are also plans for 2,800 parking spaces. And of course, in the name of convenience, get ready to say goodbye to those long pre-match walks. For Venezia fans, making their way through the historic centre to the Penzo stadium, from bacaro to bacaro, from cicchetto to cicchetto, has always been a ritual as cherished as the 90 minutes of play. So for the new stadium, they’ll have to come up with a new one. Some elements will remain: the orange-black-and-green club is in fact working on a plan to involve the business owners along the traditional route at the new site as well, complete with kiosks and the relocation of signage, whilst covering part of the logistical costs. As for the rest, the big gamble is that the sense of wonder will outweigh the nostalgia. Staying in Serie A would help.

From his sacking by Roma to his dream of saving the team where he came through the ranks – all in one series.

It begins with the risk of failure – “Ostiamare is finished” is one of the phrases heard at the start of the trailer – and ends with promotion from Serie D to Serie C. This isn’t a spoiler because, as they say in these cases, the beauty lies in the journey. It lies in watching a former footballer and a budding coach go on to become president as well. “Alongside the dream lies responsibility,” is the testimony of someone who found himself waiting for new changing rooms, designing the shirts for the following season, consoling, reprimanding and motivating the players, and cutting unnecessary costs. “At first I thought I’d recreate what I’d experienced during my career at Roma and with the national team, but there are costs involved. I’ve rediscovered the world of my childhood – the beauty of the straightforward, no-frills football played by amateurs, its more intimate nature and its closeness to the people.” A fundamental concept of the documentary: “You go back to the essence of football,” De Rossi tells his team during a barbecue at the training ground. In another scene—one of the funniest—De Rossi and his right-hand man, Luca Beccaceci, discuss the impact of breakfasts on the budget. “Having to think like an owner is an advantage,” the Genoa manager tells journalists at the Sky Campus, “because it allows you to engage with every area of the club, starting with those who manage the figures. You understand the dynamics and where the difficulties arise – the same ones faced by Serie A clubs, despite the figures being completely different.”

Dan Sucu, the Rossoblù chairman, will be pleased to have such an understanding counterpart. Relations are already good: “Sooner or later, everyone gets sacked. Genoa have bucked the trend so far; they didn’t sack me when it would have been madness not to,” he said, referring to the many managerial changes in the first 11 matchdays of Serie A. De Rossi has already experienced the precarious nature of the manager’s job, yet “I’m almost having more fun now than when I was playing”. His priorities are clear: “My commitment to Ostiamare won’t influence my future decisions, not even if I were torn between an offer from abroad and one in Italy. There are aeroplanes and video calls, and I make no secret of the fact that one of my goals is precisely to manage in a foreign league.” Management as a vocation. “The only thing that might hold me back is being away from my family. But we’ve made a pact amongst ourselves and sooner or later we’ll be back together as a family. Not always being close by is emotionally draining.”

The coach’s role: “I’m almost having more fun now than when I was playing”

Finding himself behind the cameras for the first time, it was inevitable that he would face the judgment of his wife, the actress Sarah Felberbaum: “When she saw the first two episodes, she tore them to shreds. But then she was very happy with the final result and with how my personality came across.” A person who has decided to reveal himself for the first time from a different perspective: “I’ve never been afraid of the spotlight on the pitch, but I have been a bit wary of the one off the pitch. I’ve never been interested in telling my story through autobiographies; there, you tend to show only the best side of yourself. Here, the protagonist is Ostia.” The neighbourhood that gives Rome access to the sea, a city within a city, a place which, like so many others, needs to safeguard and restore the spaces where a community thrives. Starting with the football pitch. “It’s true that today’s youngsters are very different from us. Even I, had I been born in recent years, would probably have spent more hours in front of a screen and fewer in the pine forest where I used to play. When you play sport, however, there’s a sort of return to one’s roots. We have more modern balls and boots, but the spirit is the same as it was fifty years ago – ‘old-fashioned’ in the most positive sense of the word.” There are still young people who cry over a lost regional final in Ladispoli or get angry about a penalty the coach wouldn’t let them take. That’s why the advice of those who experienced these situations until just a few years ago is still valid: “With the lads, whilst emphasising respect for roles, I never put any distance between us; I didn’t let my own experience weigh on them.” There’s another thing he didn’t do, reveals someone who worked with him on the documentary: take to the pitch with them. “We were waiting for him to be tempted to kick a ball, but he held back whenever one came near him.” “I don’t feel like playing any more; since I retired, I’ve only played one match because of sponsorship commitments. I’d misread the contract.” He’s joking, but not entirely: “I’ve always seen football as a competitive sport; it’s awful to see yourself with a paunch at matches between former stars.”

It is more appropriate to manage Genoa and focus on Ostiamare, without ever stopping loving Roma: “I don’t have to hide anything; it would be silly to do so. The things I do aren’t at odds with one another; I love my life as it is now and I don’t regret the past.” Not least because the future is full of dreams to fulfil: “At my first away match at Seravezza-Pozzi (Lucca), there were three supporters. I’d like a lad from Ostia, 30 years from now, to call himself an Ostiamare supporter and talk about the outpouring of love for this team.”

“Of course, I’ve matured, but I think I’ve remained a normal lad. Normality is the most important thing; it’s what connects me to people, both at work and in my private life,” added Jannik after speaking about values earlier this week, on his first morning as Allianz’s Global Brand Ambassador. “Kimi is a very laid-back lad, a normal person. I think that’s what connects us more than anything else,” Sinner continued, referring to Antonelli, whom he had congratulated on his world title.

“We live in a world where there’s so much attention, so many people who want to get into your life and you never know why. But I don’t think I’ve ever lost my sense of normality,” he concludes, explaining the value that matters most to him. Being normal. Spending time with his family, playing on the simulator, washing his car by hand – even if it’s a Ferrari. Kimi does it too; his, of course, is a Mercedes. Jannik photographed him; Kimi told the story. Normal lives led by extraordinary young men.

It is noteworthy that Jannik’s hobby is the driving simulator he has had installed at home, while Kimi plays tennis for recreation. These are stories that not even the most advanced artificial intelligence could generate, as they would appear too implausible to be credible. And yet, that is precisely the case.

They wear watches from one sponsor and suits from another, but if it were up to them, they’d be in tracksuit bottoms or shorts and trainers all day. Kimi lives on his parents’ pocket money because otherwise he’d spend it all on cars, says his mum Veronica. Jannik probably stopped getting pocket money ages ago and has started buying the four-wheeled toys he loves so much himself.

They describe themselves as friends and would certainly know how to spend whole days together. Kimi would ask Jannik for the secrets of his tennis, and Jannik would ask Kimi how to tackle a certain bend at full speed. “I’ve always said that one day you’ll see me in a racing car…”, Sinner joked recently. “I can’t wait to organise a day out go-karting or in a GT3 with Jannik, who’s a friend,” Kimi said.

“What Kimi has managed to achieve is incredible. At twenty, he seems to do everything with astonishing ease. It looks normal, but it isn’t. He went through some tough times in his first season, worked incredibly hard and learnt to handle certain situations with a speed that only a phenomenon can possess. It moves me deeply to watch him.” The words Jannik dedicated to Kimi could easily have been spoken by Antonelli when discussing Sinner. At times, it feels as though they are looking in a mirror. Recall the ease with which Jannik won at Wimbledon or in Rome. They know how to turn their ordinariness into something special. They are reminiscent of Francesco Renga and Ermal Meta when they sang: “What’s wrong with being normal?”.

That said, the fact that Jannik and Kimi, despite their ordinary lives, have managed to become exceptional is another matter altogether. They had the talent, and they’ve been working at it since they were children. They sacrificed part of their youth to pursue their dreams, becoming number one in their respective sports. And now that they’re exceptional, they want to hold on to their ordinary lives at all costs.

Kimi manages it a bit better because he has fewer protective filters and Mercedes lets him express himself as he pleases, whilst Jannik sometimes seems afraid to mingle with people. But perhaps it’s also a difference in character – the sort that exists between someone from South Tyrol and someone from Emilia, between a lad from the mountains and one from the plains.

“I know Kimi and his father a bit. They’re ordinary people. Kimi isn’t the sort of person who needs to be seen in a fancy car; he’s a very laid-back lad. I think this ordinariness is what connects us more than anything else,” Jannik went on to say, revealing another similarity between the two: their families. Present, but not overbearing. Affectionate, but not smothering.

“Marco, Kimi’s dad, who used to race himself, had a team and knew his stuff, never said a word to me about managing his son when he was racing against me in karts,” says Dino Chiesa, with whom Kimi took his first steps in the sport.

Whilst many coaches believe that the best asset for young players is to be orphans, in the case of Sinner and Antonelli we can safely say that this is not the case. Jannik and Kimi need the reassurance of their parents – the kind that their father Marco provides for his son by standing by his side in the pits every race weekend.

The other day, Sinner described Darren Cahill as almost a second father to him, given the way he had advised him through difficult times. A bit like Toto Wolff is to Kimi. They’re identical in this respect too.

This development allows Ferrari fans to dream, as at some point Jannik decided to part ways with Darren to embark on a new adventure with a new manager. It remains to be seen whether, at some point in the distant future, Kimi might also choose to leave his long-time mentor.

Fischetti, is rugby more of a passion or a profession?

“A great mix. I live it with passion, especially when playing for Italy, and I believe this competitive and emotional fire is shared by all the Azzurri. But I also live it with commitment and responsibility, all round and 365 days a year.”

Even whilst on holiday?

“Even on holiday, because often, if not always, your mind is still on rugby, and because you’re always, if not often, mindful of what you eat, drink and sleep, and of keeping fit.”

Is pillar writing an art or a craft?

“Both. I’d say: a great deal of skill, which at times rises to the level of art. I’m thinking of the organised scrum, the positioning, the drive.”

What does it feel like, what do you feel at the moment of impact, when the two packages collide?

“A lot of noise and enormous pressure. The sounds of bones and muscles, the voices coming from lungs and guts… And the pressure exerted by your seven teammates pitted against that exerted by the eight opponents. Some have compared that pressure to a ship’s engine room. However, it is nothing like the pressure you experience when training in the gym.”

Are you born a pillar, or do you become one?

“You’re born into it. It can happen – as it did to me – that you start out in a different role. Can you believe it? Central attacking midfielder. Then, however, your calling, instinct or nature comes to the fore and you end up in the right position, perhaps retaining those qualities you learnt in a different role.”

Once you’ve become pillars, do you remain pillars?

“Sì, per sempre, perché da piloni non si torna più indietro”.

What would you say to a boy or a girl about rugby?

“Go and play. You’ll find teammates and brilliant people who will become your friends for life.”

And what about a parent?

“Come and watch me play. I know you’ll discover a sporting culture, a sense of respect and a spirit of the game that will win you over.”

And what about a female partner?

“Come and live with me. I know it won’t be easy. Between training sessions and matches, trips and pre-match preparations, our lives will be full of commitments. But if it’s true love, together we’ll make it work.”

It is often said that Argentines are Italians who speak Spanish. Why, then, are they more proficient at rugby than we are?

“Because they discovered rugby and learnt to play it before we did.”

Rugby is a spectacle: is it more like cinema or theatre, or more like the circus or dance?

“None of that, because rugby is pure truth – neither fiction nor performance.”

Fischetti, do you believe in God?

“It would be a long story. I’m more of a rugby fan.”

Northampton Saints, your club team in England. Do you feel more like a saint or a devil?

“A devil with the face of a saint. But it’s just a joke.”

The Welsh claim that the pillars have suffered so much on earth that they deserve paradise.

“Let’s hope that’s exactly how it is. I’m counting on it.”

Just as last year, when Lorenzo Musetti managed to qualify alongside Sinner, so this year, alongside the Vavassori-Bolelli pairing, we are not left without a representative in the singles. Flavio Cobolli has caused some concern in the final weeks of the season. In Vienna, he was seen leaving the court in tears after losing to his childhood friend Berrettini, and observers were already prepared to sound the death knell for the Italian tennis scene, which ‘without Sinner is not up to scratch’. However, following Rafa Jodar’s defeat at Paris Bercy—which mathematically secured his qualification—the Roman Roland Garros finalist posted on social media that phrase, “magical nights”, which reassured everyone. Indoor hard courts are certainly not Cobolli’s favourite surface, as he requires wide movements to set up his shots. And in his group, featuring Alcaraz, Medvedev and Tiafoe, perhaps only against the latter does he start on equal terms. “Flavio must see the Finals as his own party. We can give it a go,” said Federation president Angelo Binaghi, offering him encouragement. Perhaps aware that this year the Italian flag won’t be flying on the final Sunday (unless Vavassori and Bolelli pull off another feat). We’ll see.

All eyes – apart from our own – are naturally on Alcaraz, who has never won the Finals. But also on Zverev (his group also includes Ben Shelton, Arthur Fils and Jodar, the latter two also making their debuts), who arrived in Turin at the end of a season in which he managed to shake off the ‘loser’ label, won two Grand Slams and is world number one. “I don’t have to prove anything else,” he was keen to point out when asked if he felt lucky to have capitalised on a year marked by absences – including Sinner’s (more than six months) and Alcaraz’s (over four months): “The aim of a professional tennis player is to stay fit for 11 months out of 12.” That, too, is an achievement. In Rome, he wasn’t recognised at the entrance to a sushi restaurant; who knows if they’ll spot him in Turin whilst he’s on the hunt for anchovies in green sauce and bagna cauda. Attention will then turn to Jodar, as those who believe (rightly so) that, having started the season around 160th in the world rankings, he is set to become a genuine ‘fourth wheel’ alongside Sinner, Alcaraz and Zverev next year.

Anyone eager to catch a glimpse of Sinner need not despair. Although he will not be competing—a circumstance we have by now come to terms with—he is expected to be seen among the stands at the Inalpi Arena. Following the event in Milan, where he provided an update on his physical condition (“I hope to return to Australia”), he will participate in several meetings with sponsors. He has become a regular presence in the city, having visited J-Medical frequently over the past few months, ever since Roland Garros. Next year—his last official year in Turin, after which he may remain there or move to Milan until 2030—is expected to see him reclaim his place among the world’s top eight.

Someone once said that Rino and ‘the truth’ don’t always see eye to eye. This individual—whether adversary or ally—has failed to grasp that ambiguity is his strength. An empathetic person always knows how to conduct himself, whether slowly or quickly; how to dress, whether casually or elegantly; and which compliments to offer or withhold. He knows when to attack or defend, to love or hate, to stand out or blend into the crowd. This duality is the strength of the empath. Rino Gattuso knows how to engage with everyone, because he possesses a dual register, a dual version of himself. Being this way, he has won over Lotito (what a Spanish-sounding rhyme!) and reignited the motivation of a team in complete disarray, made up of outcasts, players sidelined by the critics, the invisible ones.

Allegri is different; he is not as empathetic as he would like to appear. An empathetic person cares about others; Allegri cares above all about himself. Even when he protects the team, he does so to defend his own job. A manager knows full well that if the players stop following him, they turn the dugout into a stage where the lead singer has lost his voice. Consequently, Allegri operates predominantly on the counter-attack, adopting simplistic stances that players can navigate without the slightest doubt. As a native of Livorno, he knows the language of the streets and never gives up. He knows how to endure, how to react, and how to survive even in difficult situations. Where Gattuso loses his way in the face of adversity, Allegri thrives. Whereas Rino requires constant reassurance of affection, Max shuns it, as if such love, however expressed, were a weakness. Here is the kiss, here is the smile. Here are two men who appear identical yet are profoundly different.

In this massive book, the only banal element is the title (“La mia storia”), which prevailed over the far more imaginative and amusing alternative proposed by a friend (“Just imagine if I hadn’t been drinking”). However, the sentence that readers have been awaiting appears on page 363, at the start of the twentieth chapter entitled “Sepang, Malaysia, 25 October 2015”. “That kick never happened. I can swear on anything – on my daughters’ heads. That kick never existed.” The kick Vale is referring to is the one Márquez accused him of, the one that prevented him from winning his tenth World Championship, the one that, due to sporting (in)justice, turned the incident into the biggest scandal in the history of the MotoGP World Championship. As a result of that never-delivered kick, Rossi was forced to start from the back of the grid in the final race at Valencia, effectively losing a championship he had been leading, while Márquez—already out of contention—apparently sought to see the title go to Lorenzo. Valentino devotes 24 pages to his feud with Márquez, describing it in detail. That he goes so far as to swear on his daughters—he who admits to having learnt to pray from his mother Stefania (“But I do it in secret from Franci”)—lends his account credibility. The problem is that, eleven years on, while Márquez is winning his tenth World Championship, Valentino has not fully come to terms with the episode. “When I think about it, I feel exactly the same as I did that Sunday evening in Valencia,” he says. “The wound is still bleeding.” He hasn’t changed his mind about what happened. “I’m very sorry because nobody has taken responsibility. Márquez didn’t take the blame, nor did those who organise the championship. Lately, it even seems as though I’ve been made out to be the villain. And that’s not fair.”

From his disappointment over Márquez to his sadness at Simoncelli’s death, via the temptation of Ferrari, his meeting with Schumacher, his encounter with Hamilton and his support for Kimi. From black cats to lucky scissors, from the sound of the hairdryer he uses to help him fall asleep to his encounters with famous people. In his autobiography, Vale recounts his victories, his sorrows, his friends, his love for Francesca and his difficulties with his father Graziano. Without regrets and without making excuses. Because yes, Valentino is afraid of black cats. If one crosses his path, he stops, even in the dead of night on the hills of Tavullia, waiting for someone else to come along and take the bad luck away. When Francesca is driving—and she couldn’t care less about her partner’s superstitions—the Doctor even goes so far as to take his feet off the pedals, as if that gesture alone were enough to ward off the evil eye. Then there are the lucky little scissors, the ones he kept on the bedside table in the motorhome and which were once confiscated at the airport because he’d forgotten them in his hand luggage. A real drama. “I bought another pair just like them, but it took me three or four races to grow attached to them again.” Not to mention his obsessive attention to order. In the motorhome, he’d even start folding Uccio’s clothes…

Welcome to the world of Valentino Rossi, nine-time world champion, winner of 115 Grand Prix races, one of the greatest motorcyclists in history and perhaps the only one capable of turning his own neuroses into a spectacle for the masses – the only one to come up with a show for every victory, drawing inspiration from the pranks of his father and his friends. His story is one of fear, friendship, pain, love and fun. Above all, it is a story of fun, because Valentino has always managed to do something rather rare: take his work tremendously seriously without taking himself too seriously. “I’ve always been afraid, and I think all riders are afraid, because motorsport is dangerous. At a certain point, you realise that if you want to do what you love, those are the rules of the game.” This explains the black cats, the scissors and the rituals that have accompanied an extraordinary career. Superstition as an antidote to fear, not as a denial of danger. “Courage is very important, but you have to manage it, channel it and use it when needed. If you solve all your problems on the track with courage alone, it usually brings a bit of bad luck.”

In the book that Rizzoli has already sold worldwide (“Only with three popes had we ever managed to sell a book in more than 50 countries before its release, and they were foreign popes…”, said Massimo Turchetta, managing director of Rizzoli), there are highs and lows, such as the tax evasion scandal and the falling-out with his former manager, or the wild nights in Ibiza full of lies to get rid of a girlfriend or two (poor Martina Stella). A chapter is devoted to the death of ‘Sic’, a wound that time has not healed. Not only because Valentino lost a friend, but because he was directly involved in the Sepang accident. “It was very shocking because I was part of the accident.” In the book, he recounts those moments: the return to the pits, the hours spent with Uccio, but above all his friendship with Marco, his ability to make people laugh, and the carefree spirit of a young man who seemed destined to become one of the stars of the World Motorcycle Championship. It is one of the most painful chapters, but also one of the most necessary.

Rivalries have fuelled his career. First Max Biaggi, then Casey Stoner and Jorge Lorenzo, with Márquez rounding off the line-up of rivals. “In sport, it’s the rivalries that make the difference. They’re what get people excited, what make them follow the races and what add spice to it all.” The book revisits Welkom 2004, Laguna Seca 2008 and Barcelona 2009, but above all it explores what wasn’t shown on television: the tensions, the thoughts, the behind-the-scenes relationships, and the way in which a rival can become both an obsession and a reason to keep improving. It is a final lap around the track, a necessary one, to have the last word on so many much-discussed episodes (which will now spark new reactions), but also to keep making us smile and, sometimes, laugh. Oh, Valentino…

Antonelli built much of his reputation in September, with two consecutive victories at Monza and Madrid. In Brianza, he won after starting in nineteenth place, having overtaken 25 times, becoming the first Italian to win the Italian Grand Prix since Ludovico Scarfiotti, sixty years ago. A week later, in Spain, he secured his eighth victory of the season. All this in his second season in Formula 1.

However, while Antonelli finished first on the track, in terms of pay he remains in the lower half of the grid. In the drivers’ salary rankings compiled by Sitiscommesse, his contract with Mercedes – valid until 2027 – is worth a fixed sum of around one and a half million euros a year, on a par with Gabriel Bortoleto of Audi and just above the four drivers who earn less than a million. At the top is Verstappen with 65 million, more than forty times as much. Hamilton follows on 55, whilst Charles Leclerc and George Russell, Antonelli’s team-mate, are on 30.

Formula 1 contracts are not made public, and these figures are estimates, relating solely to the fixed salary, excluding bonuses, personal sponsorship deals and image rights. However, paddock sources have long agreed on the relative standing of the drivers, and the gap between the top and bottom of the list exceeds 60 million.

Even Lando Norris, the reigning champion, earns far more than him. The McLaren driver, who won the title last year, earns 25 million – almost seventeen times as much as the man who took it from him. Fernando Alonso, aged 45, receives 15 from Aston Martin. Carlos Sainz, Alexander Albon, Oscar Piastri and Pierre Gasly are on around ten million, as is Lance Stroll, who is the son of Aston Martin’s owner and has an open-ended contract. The figures drop sharply from there, with seven million for Sergio Perez at Cadillac, six for Nico Hülkenberg and Esteban Ocon, and four for Isack Hadjar and Valtteri Bottas.

Such a gap depends on when Antonelli signed. The contract with Mercedes was signed in the summer of 2024, when he was eighteen and racing in Formula 2, and it secured him the seat that Hamilton was vacating to move to Maranello. Salaries in Formula 1 are set upon signing and remain the same until the contract expires, and on the day he signed, Antonelli had not yet competed in a Grand Prix.

For Hamilton, the opposite is true. He turned 41 in January and hasn’t won a title since 2020, but Ferrari is paying him 55 million a year until 2027, with an option for 2028. Maranello’s calculations, after all, relate more to the brand than to the track: according to some estimates, the Briton’s presence would have brought the Scuderia over 100 million in additional sponsorship revenue last season alone, particularly in the British market.

On top of the fixed salary come performance-related bonuses, and for Antonelli, the title changes the figures. According to QuiFinanza, with the World Championship win, the bonuses could take the total to over 15 million dollars. This remains an estimate, like all the figures circulating in the paddock.

These figures could soon change for everyone, starting with Verstappen. His contract with Red Bull runs until 2028, but there has long been talk of a clause that would allow him to leave at the end of the season, with McLaren and Mercedes among the possible destinations. Russell’s contract expires at the end of 2026, with an option for a further twelve months.

The same applies to Antonelli. His contract expires in 2027, but with a world title under his belt, Mercedes has no reason to wait: as we wrote on 3 November, the next deal is expected to be worth around thirty million euros per season – twenty times the amount he earned when he won the World Championship. Meanwhile, at the age of twenty, the world champion washes his road-going Mercedes himself and still lives on his parents’ allowance – the very same parents with whom he celebrated the title at the track.

The 3–1 win over France was interpreted by La Gazzetta dello Sport as the result of ‘Premier-style substitutions’ (referring to the Premier League, not Giorgia Meloni); having been forced to watch the match on a delayed broadcast – there was England v Croatia on at the same time – I saw it more as a quintessentially Italian victory, characterised by skilful defending and swift counter-attacks. The Azzurri now lead their group, Mancini is already being hailed as a hero, and a drama is looming: “A draw against Belgium will do,” say journalists and fans, knocking on wood, but why settle for a draw when a win would mean finishing top of the group and securing a favourable draw for the Nations League finals?

On the other hand, wasn’t it enough to beat Bosnia to qualify for the World Cup, or North Macedonia, or Sweden? This is the real test to see if you’ve turned a corner: whether you’ll manage to lose to Belgium’s has-beens and finish a dismal third in the group, or whether you’ll stick to your pointless tradition of always reaching the semi-finals of the Nations League only to shit yourselves when it really matters.

Another lesson to be learnt from today is a suspicion that is growing ever stronger within me: could it be that Zinedine Zidane, aura aside, is something of a bluff? Everyone keeps talking about his France side as one of the strongest teams in the world, but setting aside the excuse of key absences, they don’t exactly play dazzling football, let alone play in a cynically effective manner: against Italy, for long stretches they looked like eleven self-indulgent players trying to force their way into the net with a series of classy little touches. “I’d love to manage Juventus one day,” said the former Real Madrid manager and Juventus midfielder. If the standard is what it is at the moment, good luck with that. Endrick, on the other hand, will not be heading to Milan. The Brazilian talent, who is struggling for playing time at Real Madrid, is reportedly looking with interest towards Serie A to get more game time, thanks to a league that is increasingly a stepping stone for young players and a graveyard for the old guard. At least that is what our colleagues at Corriere dello Sport reported a few days ago—perhaps following a particularly spirited editorial drinks session: “Christ’s athlete stops the Devil”, read the headline in Zazzaroni’s newspaper, explaining that the footballer – who is part of a Christian group that preaches the Gospel in the world of sport – would not want to play for a club with a satanic symbol and would therefore prefer Roma. The fact that the Corriere dello Sport sells many copies in Rome and amongst Roma fans, of course, has nothing to do with it. It may be reasonable to frame the narrative in this way, yet one wonders whether a more nuanced formulation might have been chosen.

At the heart of the project, of course, remains AC Milan, with its seven Champions League titles, 19 Serie A titles and a global community of over 650 million supporters. But the Rossoneri club is becoming the driving force behind a project that goes far beyond the ninety minutes of a match. The first piece of the jigsaw will be the new 71,500-seat Generali Stadium, designed by Foster + Partners and MANICA, set to become a venue that comes alive seven days a week, hosting football, concerts, events, dining, shops and luxury hospitality. The model is based on the American one, where the stadium is no longer just a venue for matches, but a revenue-generating machine operating all year round. It has only just been unveiled, but we will have to wait until 2031 to see it. It is a stadium, however, that will be shared with Inter and will change its colours every other week.

There’s more to life than football. Cardinale dreams of top-flight basketball. RedBird is considering the possibility of acquiring a Milan-based franchise in the future NBA Europe, the project through which the American professional league aims to establish a foothold in Europe. A move that could shift the balance of power in European basketball, although the NBA Europe project is still very much up in the air and co-existence with the EuroLeague will not be straightforward.

However, Cardinale also has another project to develop in the San Donato area, which had been purchased with a view to building the new stadium should the San Siro deal have fallen through. The idea is to create a new sports and entertainment hub featuring a new 20,000-seat arena, with the potential to bring major tennis events to Milan, such as a tournament or the Finals, which are currently hosted in Turin.

Leading this revolution will be Brett Yormark, appointed chief executive of the new holding company. A manager with over thirty years’ experience in American sport, he is currently commissioner of the Big 12 Conference, a role he will step down from at the end of January 2027. Yormark will report directly to Cardinale, who has known and worked with him for a quarter of a century. “We do not want to invest in a single club, a single sport or a single venue, but in an entire city,” is the essence of the strategy outlined by the founder of RedBird. The fund aims to bring to Milan the experience it has gained in the United States through organisations such as Legends Hospitality, On Location and Yes Network, building a platform capable of multiplying commercial opportunities within the sporting sector.

Four years after buying AC Milan, Cardinale is therefore renewing his commitment to Italy. Football remains at the heart of the venture, but a project is taking shape around it that looks to the NBA, tennis, concerts and the events business. It is based on a very American belief: in sport, winning is important, but keeping the show running all year round can become an even bigger business. However, he must not forget that the fans care about only one thing: winning. This is a concept he appears to have grasped in recent months, given his decision to stay closer to the club and adopt a more hands-on approach, bringing about a change of direction not seen during his early years as owner. Now, faced with this new global project, the fans will inevitably have to stop chanting against him, because the idea is that he has come to Milan to stay for the long term and try to Americanise it a little.

This year’s transfer deadline – the final day on which teams can trade players and draft picks – saw the Jacksonville Jaguars make a number of moves. On Monday, the Florida-based team’s general manager, James Gladstone, carried out no fewer than three transactions that could prove crucial for the Jags’ immediate future. First, Gladstone traded a second-round pick in the 2027 draft and a fifth-round pick in the 2028 draft to the Atlanta Falcons in exchange for safety Jessie Bates III. He then traded a sixth-round pick in the 2028 draft to the New Orleans Saints in exchange for nose tackle Davon Godchaux. Finally, the most high-profile acquisition of all saw Jacksonville trade a first-round pick in the 2027 draft and a second-round pick in the 2029 draft to Philadelphia in exchange for defensive tackle Jordan Davis, a player to whom the Eagles had granted a $78 million contract extension just a few months earlier. These trades were made to bolster the defence, a position in which the Jaguars have lost safety Eric Murray and nose tackle DaVon Hamilton to injury.

Three moves have been made – and let’s be clear, not by a struggling franchise, but by a team that currently boasts a 6-2 record. Yet it is precisely this season’s results that have spurred the club into action. In fact, never before have the Jags felt they had a Super Bowl-calibre squad at their disposal as they do this year. The attack, in its own right, is performing at a high level. Quarterback Trevor Lawrence, in his sixth NFL season, is playing better than ever before, so much so that his stock as a potential top player in the league is on the rise.

Head coach Liam Coen deserves credit for the results of the Jacksonville attack. A protégé of Sean McVay, head coach of the Los Angeles Rams, the 41-year-old Coen is part of that wave of offensive gurus that has swept through the NFL in recent seasons.

To reach the Super Bowl, the Jaguars will need to win their conference, the AFC, which features teams such as the Bills, the Steelers, the Chiefs and the Bengals – all rivals boasting extraordinary attacking line-ups. For Jacksonville, strengthening their defence therefore means believing they have assembled a unit capable of defending against the passes of the likes of Josh Allen, Aaron Rodgers, Patrick Mahomes and Joe Burrow. Their primary objective will be to finish top of the AFC, so as to play all their play-off matches in the warmth of Florida and, if possible, avoid ending up in the cold of Buffalo. Regardless of the quality of the players acquired, the price paid by Jacksonville in terms of draft picks for future drafts has certainly been high. However, if Coen and Lawrence manage to lead the team to the promised land of the Super Bowl, no one will remember the draft picks that were sacrificed.

“My hunger is just as strong as before; perhaps it has even grown. Winning is one of the most wonderful feelings you can experience, and once you’ve felt it, you want to relive it again and again. For me, these last few races are already the start of 2027. I want to finish on a high, perhaps secure a few more victories, and then come back even stronger. This must be just the beginning.”

The young driver who has ascended to the throne of Formula 1 has not lost his smile, his spontaneity, or his knack for poking fun at himself, an attribute that appears to be one of his secret weapons. To celebrate the championship, he arrived in front of the entire Mercedes team with his hair dyed in the colours of the Italian flag. “I would have liked to add a bit of blue as well, but they only had one can of proper paint. I thought it might not be the best idea to spray it on my head.” The result was memorable all the same. “Everyone was dressed smartly, looking perfect, and then I turned up. Toto Wolff couldn’t believe his eyes. In the group photo, you can see everyone with normal hair and then there’s this little tricolour dot at the front. In a few years’ time I’ll probably wonder what on earth I was thinking, but at the time it was brilliant.” With one small snag: “I kept losing the colour and the white had turned grey. I looked like a grandad.”

Behind this light-heartedness, however, lies a profound transformation. The Kimi of 2026 is not just a faster driver. Above all, he is a young man who has learnt to live with his fears. “Last year, when I got into the car, I thought too much about the end result and not about how to achieve it. This year I’ve completely changed my mindset. I focused on what I needed to do to achieve the result. It was a massive step forward.” A change born out of the difficulties of 2025, the doubts, the mistakes, and the pressure of joining Mercedes at such a young age. “There were some very dark moments. Overcoming them helped me grow enormously, not just as a driver but above all as a person. I realised I’d be capable of facing other difficult moments.”

The test had already come in Australia, when an incident during the final free practice session reawakened the ghosts of the past, particularly that of the disastrous crash during practice at Monza in 2024. “If it had happened to me last year, I’d probably have carried that mistake with me for much longer. Instead, I managed to put it behind me. It was confirmation that I’d changed.”

Then came China, with my first pole position and first victory. “It was like breaking the ice. From that moment on, I got into the car feeling more relaxed, because I had one less thing to prove.” Monaco, on the other hand, was the technical masterpiece. “The most complete weekend of my career. We weren’t the favourites; on Friday we were struggling, then we turned the car around and managed to win.” But it was at Monza that Antonelli truly realised he could become world champion. “I knew I’d have to serve a penalty for the engine and had already reckoned with losing points. Instead, on the fifteenth lap, I found myself in first place. At that point I told myself: I simply have to win. It’s either win or nothing.” That comeback proved to be the turning point of the championship. “That was the moment I realised I had to go out and win this World Championship.” Not least because Monza meant closing the circle that had been left open by that accident in 2024. A wound transformed into one of the finest victories.

Success, however, has not taken away his anger at defeats. Finishing fifth in Brazil, after leading the race, still sits heavily with him. “I was furious. I didn’t show it because the team had just won the constructors’ title and we had to celebrate. But the next two days weren’t exactly brilliant.” This is the side of the nice lad that’s less obvious: the one who smiles when he’s out of the car, but inside just wants to win. “When I get into the car, I’m a completely different person. There’s only one goal: to be the best.”

Yet Antonelli seems to have found his own unique way of being a champion. Without having to play the villain, without turning every rivalry into a war. “I like to bring positive energy to the team, joke around, have fun. When we need to be serious, we are, but I believe that approaching certain things with a light-hearted attitude helps us work better.” An attitude that comes from home. “My father taught me a great deal about motorsport; my mother, above all, taught me about life. They continue to teach me things even now that I live on my own.” For his part, he has a message for those young people who take to the streets to smash shop windows: “I’d try to pass on to them a little of what I’ve learnt in my life, the values I’ve been taught. To be true to yourself, to respect others, to always keep your feet on the ground, and to try to do good as well – to try to give back a little of what you receive. I’d also try to pass on to them a bit of the way I see life, helping them understand that certain things aren’t right, they lead nowhere – in fact, they only lead to chaos and more chaos – and it’s a shame to see that, especially in cities. Beautiful cities like my Bologna.”

It is precisely these close relationships that have become even more important since the World Championship. In San Marino, his friends had all gathered in a pub to watch the Mexican Grand Prix. Then they wrote him a letter, delivered by Rosa, his guardian angel in a Mercedes. “They told me that no matter how successful I become, to them I’ll always be their Kimi. It was absolutely lovely.” He was also so moved by a banner that appeared at the roundabout near his home that he stopped to take a photo of it.

There is also room in his life for Jannik Sinner, with whom he has yet to organise that famous go-kart challenge. “If he wants, we could even have a day out with the GT3s. We’re friends, we speak often, and I’m really pleased to have his support.”

Track limits. “My dad told me that if I’d done one more, he’d have lowered me by ten centimetres.” A joking threat accompanied by a piece of technical advice that was anything but trivial: don’t fix your eyes on the white line coming out of the bends, but look a few centimetres further in. “At Austin, which is one of the most difficult circuits, I didn’t make a single mistake in qualifying.” As for the starts, the credit for the improvements goes mainly to the work done with the Mercedes engineers on the clutch and the launch control system. Because even a world champion can still improve. And he must.

Next year will not be straightforward. Antonelli is aware of this. “At the start of the season we were dominant, but now Ferrari, Red Bull and McLaren have closed the gap considerably. With the budget cap and wind tunnel restrictions, it’s much harder to establish a dominant era like those of the past.” 2027 will also bring significant technical changes, including reduced downforce and a different balance between the electric motor and the internal combustion engine. “It’ll be almost like starting from scratch.”

When asked whom he fears most—Hamilton, Leclerc, Norris, Russell or Verstappen—Kimi does not resort to diplomacy. “If I have to choose one driver, I’d say Max. I reckon he’ll be the one who’ll cause me the most trouble.” However, he adds that he would like to see a closely fought championship among all the top drivers, including Hamilton, who confided in him on the podium in Mexico that he was hoping for closer battles in 2027.

She won the World Cup. The fear of making a mistake almost defeated her. But her desire to win – that didn’t. “The fire is still there. In fact, perhaps it’s stronger than ever.” Tonight at San Siro she’ll try to pass some of that on to the Azzurri, then she’ll pay a visit to President Mattarella with her family.

Marco Carnesecchi emerged as the match-winner, dealing a crushing blow to the title hopes of Ivan Jurić’s Monza side, who had been in excellent form up to that point and had certainly played better than Atalanta. And who, particularly during those thirty seconds when the Atalanta goalkeeper turned into a wall, deserved to have scored a goal. Marco Carnesecchi, however, after a less-than-brilliant start to the season, was keen to show that he was still among the best in his position in our league. First he parried Gustavo Varela’s powerful but central shot; then he produced an incredibly elegant dive to his left to deflect Jay Robinson’s dangerous low drive; next, he demonstrated how to protect his near post against Varela’s fierce strike; and finally, he stretched to his right to parry Eddy Kouadio’s shot from the wing. With the exception of that one mistake, Atalanta’s number 29 demonstrated everything an aspiring goalkeeper needs to become an excellent shot-stopper.

The three best saves from matchday 10 of Serie A

1. Marco Carnesecchi in the 23rd minute of Monza v Atalanta 0–1 – 5 points;

2. Chrīstos Mandas in the 41st minute of Napoli v Lazio 1–1 – 3 points

3. joint first: Lorenzo Palmisani in the 50th minute of Cagliari v Frosinone 1–0 – 1 point

3. Elia Caprile (joint top) in the 54th minute of Cagliari v Frosinone 1–0 – 1 point

The ranking

1. David De Gea (Fiorentina), Lorenzo Palmisani (Frosinone), 13 points
3. Filip Stanković (Venezia), 12 points
4. Mike Maignan (Milan), Chrīstos Mandas (Lazio), 11 points
6. Guglielmo Vicario (Juventus), 9 points
7. Vanja Milinković-Savić (Napoli), 6 points
8. Marco Carnesecchi (Atalanta), Wladimiro Falcone (Lecce), 5 points
10. Justin Bijlow (Genoa), 4 points
11. Edoardo Corvi (Parma), Josep Martínez (Inter), Alex Meret (Napoli), Maduka Okoye (Udinese), Lucas Perri (Torino), 3 points
16. Elia Caprile (Cagliari), 2 points
17. Pierluigi Gollini (Roma), 1 point

What you have just read is Guanti sporchi, a light-hearted football-themed piece about Serie A’s number ones and the save that somehow made the football weekend even better – at least from the perspective of that minority who dress differently from the rest on the pitch. You can find all previous instalments here.

Jannik doesn’t shy away from questions, but he can’t dispel all doubts. And not being able to do so – not being able to control everything – must be driving him mad. He describes himself as a normal lad: “The most important thing is that success has never changed me. I’m the same lad I was when I left home at thirteen and a half. Of course, I’ve matured, but I think I’ve remained a normal lad. Normality is the most important thing; it’s what connects me to people, both at work and in my private life. We live in a world where there’s so much attention, so many people who want to get into your life and you never know why. But I don’t think I’ve ever lost my sense of normality.”

This is perhaps the best way to understand Jannik, especially now that tennis has presented him with a bill he has never had to pay before: the cost of waiting. At twenty-five, Sinner is forced to watch others play, win, and claim titles and places in the rankings. He, who has built his success on the ability to control every detail, has suddenly discovered that there is something he cannot command: his own body. The word that keeps cropping up is ‘patience’. A word that almost seems like a contradiction for a young man used to living his life trying to get to the ball before anyone else. “It’s the first time I’ve lost control. It’s a strange feeling, and I don’t like it.” Darren Cahill, sitting next to him, smiles. The Australian knows Jannik better than almost anyone else and knows how hard it is for him to sit on the sidelines. “He hasn’t always been a particularly patient lad, but in this situation he’s showing incredible composure and maturity.”

The target is Australia, possibly preceded by a few warm-up tournaments. But this time there will be no shortcuts. The initial plan was for a quicker return, perhaps as early as the American hard courts. Then the doctors insisted on a change of course. “We had a goal in mind that turned out to be impossible. We’ve chosen a different path. I’m a tennis player, not a doctor. I have to trust the people looking after me. If we rush things too much, we risk more serious problems.”

Meanwhile, Jannik’s life has turned into an unusual routine. The gym, rehabilitation, family and, above all, a driving simulator. “I stay at home and play on the simulator practically all day. Then I go to the gym, come back and get back on the simulator. I’ve always said that one day you’ll see me in a racing car…”, he jokes, whilst thinking of Kimi: “What he’s managed to achieve is incredible. At twenty, he seems to do everything with astonishing ease. It looks normal, but it isn’t. He went through some tough times in his first season, worked incredibly hard and learnt to handle certain situations with a speed that only a phenomenon can possess. It really moves me to watch him.”

Not least because Antonelli recognises something of himself in him. “I know him and his father a bit. They’re ordinary people. Kimi isn’t the sort of person who needs to be seen in a fancy car; he’s a very laid-back lad. I think this ordinariness is what connects us more than anything else.” Two lads who grew up quickly without being in any hurry to become celebrities.

Time away from the courts also provides an opportunity to reflect on what has happened. Even the victories, which, when they came one after another, risked seeming almost taken for granted. “Before, it all seemed natural. You’d go to a tournament, win it, go to the next one and win again. Now I’m learning to appreciate even more what I’ve managed to achieve. My desire to win has grown even stronger. I’ve never regarded tennis as a job and I never will. I feel lucky to be doing something I love so much. When I return, perhaps I’ll be able to enjoy it even more.” We can’t wait.

In Italy, we lack patience, and the search for someone to blame – the thirst to throw someone to the wolves of public debate – clouds our judgement and stifles our thoughts.

Of course, there is also the flip side, which was well exemplified by Kosta Runjaić’s Udinese. The unreasonable stubbornness in trying to make the numbers add up despite the reality suggesting quite the opposite is also an enemy of the idea. However, it is fair to say that this has not always been the case.

We all remember the uncertainty the Atalanta management were facing when the team were struggling and Gian Piero Gasperini (before the successes and the Europa League) was on the brink of being sacked. One can only speculate what Bergamo would be like today without that determination to stick with Gasp. Nevertheless, numerous projects have gone up in smoke far too quickly. The most striking recent example was Daniele De Rossi at Roma, who was sacked after about a month of the league season.

So, what was expected of Aquilani? An inadequate transfer window, with defensive leader Tarik Muharemović sold, Fedde Leysen – also a defender – out with a cruciate ligament injury, and one of the toughest fixtures lists for a newly formed side to face. Over these eleven matchdays, Sassuolo have faced Juventus, Milan, Como, Atalanta, Lazio, Roma, Bologna, Fiorentina and Frosinone, not to mention Torino and Monza, who proved to be tough opponents. Perhaps they are three or four points short, but is that enough to throw it all away in November? In any case, the club has turned to Roberto D’Aversa, an experienced manager whom it is not yet worth commenting on, but who is drawing a line under everything Carnevali had envisaged. The fear of failure has prevailed. But does Sassuolo’s season make sense now? They have the quality to secure safety comfortably, without taking too many risks. And then? Once the fear of Serie B has been banished – which, even under Aquilani, was an unlikely scenario – where do we start from? Once again, with ideas.

This is how the eleventh matchday of Serie A unfolded, peppered with own goals, a few technical errors and a certain predictability in the headline fixtures, making the purchase of a professional postcard the preferable option (whilst we’re still on the subject). Inter putting Como under pressure in the opening minutes, Milan securing a win in Genoa despite the scourge of wingers playing on the wrong foot, Juve and Fiorentina facing the same difficulties, and the Rome-based sides still unbeaten – this was exactly what one might have expected on the eve of the round, almost predicting in advance who the key players would be, as well as those who managed to fade into the background and postpone their impact.

All the more so, between Friday and Saturday, two superb pieces of skill in the second-tier fixtures not only determined the respective results – with significant implications for the rest of the season – but also brought ‘Beauty’ back into vogue, understood as a further and extraordinary reason to continue watching (perhaps live, in person) football matches, in times of internal feuds, never-ending candidacies, hesitant sackings and national teams on demand. But it is also for the first reason that these memorable moments come from Venice and Cagliari. A

decisive goal, a last-gasp save that counts just as much. The ‘Serenissimi’ are back in the race for survival by trapping Udinese in trouble, whilst the Sardinians are shining once more and halting the advance of a Frosinone side missing Antonio Raimondo. All this is encapsulated in the no-less-than-remarkable feats of Kike Pérez and Raphael Kofler – the ‘Don Quixote of the Lagoon’ from La Mancha, and the South Tyrolean defender from the island: two players who rarely make the headlines, heroes for just one week because it is from them that the unexpected emerges, the wonder to be recounted in the future. With these images to hand, precisely. 

The air is crisp at the Penzo Stadium in Sant’Elena in the evening, especially when it is drizzling and the loudspeakers play Pino Donaggio’s universally renowned masterpiece, ‘Io che non vivo più di un’ora senza te’. On the pitch, it is a rough-and-tumble battle between the bottom two: a first half lacking in inspiration and action is followed by a second half that breaks the deadlock only to quickly revert to the expected atmosphere of fear. In the 64th minute, during an attacking move, the prodigal son Pasquale Mazzocchi, instead of pushing forward, hesitates and drifts towards the centre, where he is met by the all-round midfielder and technical leader Davide Nicola, twenty-five metres from goal. 

With his right foot, Kike Pérez steps off the bus alone; with his left, he has racked up a string of saves in Serie B. He is the one who sat atop the crossbar on promotion day, the one who rallies the crowd whilst shouldering his responsibilities. He has space, just a couple of strides at most, and the much-discussed Maduka Okoye, the Friulian goalkeeper, isn’t actually that far off his line: Kike from La Mancha unleashes a left-footed rocket – precise and powerful enough – which curves on its way until it dies in the far corner, bulging the net. Ecstasy for number 71 – he couldn’t wear that number at Napoli.

Those responsible for the company’s social media channels then edit and re-edit the content in every conceivable way, slowing the pace to match the rhythm of the Burano maestro’s evergreen hit (eighty million copies sold worldwide). Even 750 km away as the crow flies, the Cagliari v Frosinone match was dominated by Michel Adopo’s thunderbolt – another player unaccustomed to the limelight – but the visitors, buoyed by their league position, pressed hard to earn a draw. In the 78th minute, from a set-piece, a low cross from Luis Hasa was flicked on by Alessandro Sugamele – so many unfamiliar faces on the pitch – to the edge of the six-yard box, where Daniel Bîrligea was waiting.

Massimiliano Alvini’s reserve centre-forward found himself with the ball at his left foot, with just a few metres in front of him and the imposing figure of Elia Caprile: or at least, that’s what he thought as he fired towards a certain goal. Instead, the silhouette of Kofler loomed into view – making his first start after impressive seasons in South Tyrol: the centre-back suddenly shifted from the centre and decisively blocked the Romanian’s shot, which was heading for the back of the net, with his body, thereby securing victory for the Rossoblu and dealing a crushing blow to the Ciociari. They, too, had not seen him coming. 

It is a minor detail and might seem almost insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Were it not for the fact that Juventus fans had already witnessed this scene at the Allianz Stadium in Turin seven days earlier. On that occasion, it was Teun Koopmeiners’ turn: unable to find a boot of the same colour, he had to make do and play with two different ones. While the fast pace of the game may sometimes force players to make last-minute decisions, if such an emergency occurs in two consecutive league matches it is no longer a coincidence but a systemic issue. And it says a great deal about Juventus’ current form – a team that, whilst on a run of three consecutive positive results across the league and the Europa League, gives the impression in every match that, since August, confusion has been the only constant. It is no coincidence that the team’s top scorer, counting only Serie A matches, is captain Bremer, a defender by trade, who has already scored three goals – more than all the strikers put together: Kolo Muani, Woiltemade and Ekhator, the latter of whom, however, only made his league debut yesterday due to injury.

After almost three months, Luciano Spalletti’s side has still not managed to find a balance that ensures consistency in their play and results, alternating clear-cut victories with heavy defeats, such as the one at Sassuolo. After losing at home to Rino Gattuso’s Lazio – who sit one point clear of Inter, who beat Como yesterday – Juventus have once again been alternating between good and less-than-good performances, never finding any consistency in their results: first drawing with Rennes in the Europa League, then beating Lecce, and finally losing to Genoa at Marassi. The management therefore decided to send the team on a training camp. The two victories, first against Napoli and then against AZ, seemed to have given a new boost not only to the players but to the whole club. Then came the match in Florence. Twice the Bianconeri fell behind and twice they fought back; it was only thanks to Guglielmo Vicario’s saves that they managed to take home at least a point, thus avoiding a repeat of the scenario seen at Sassuolo.

Spalletti’s post-match comments – “sometimes we make a mountain out of a molehill” – sum up very well the mindset of a team that has yet to find its footing this season and which is easily thrown into disarray.

This is the mood within the team: Leclerc (penalised for a spin involving Lawson and demoted to eighth) said that for nine years the car has struggled in these weather conditions, whilst Hamilton has once again shown that he does not fully trust the instructions he receives from the pit wall. It should be noted that both cars started from the back of the grid after changing parts of the PU (Leclerc) and the entire Power Unit (Hamilton), but they still took a clear step backwards despite having ‘fresh’ engines. The mistake with the tyre pressures at the start is something that deserves to send the pupil to the back of the class with donkey ears. Not that there were any doubts, but with the drivers’ title going to Kimi Antonelli (in Senna’s homeland, a few uncharacteristic slip-ups) and the constructors’ title to Mercedes, John Elkann’s statement – in which he had assured on 10 September 2022 that the Scuderia would win a World Championship (both drivers’ and constructors’) – has definitively fallen flat. It is worth recalling the results from that day onwards. 2022: second in the constructors’ championship, second in the drivers’ championship (Leclerc). 2023: third in the constructors’ championship, fourth in the drivers’ championship (Leclerc). 2024: second in the constructors’ championship, third in the drivers’ championship. 2025: fourth in the constructors’ championship, fifth in the drivers’ championship (Leclerc). In 2026, they will most likely be second in the constructors’ championship again, whilst, at present, the drivers are fourth (Hamilton) and fifth (Leclerc). In 15 days’ time, the series returns to the Las Vegas circuit, after which the FIA and Liberty Media are expected to provide updates on the final two rounds in Qatar (where the motorbikes raced) and Abu Dhabi. 

“We haven’t seen him play much, but he’s one of those figures everyone always speaks highly of and holds in high regard. We feel a very strong bond with him thanks to the European Championship victory at Wembley, and in the article we’ve tried to highlight the moments when he spoke of being happy with his career, the achievements he’s made, the wonderful teams he’s played for and the people he’s met.” Vialli was one of the first Italians to move to England to play football. “It’s a footballing ‘brain drain’ that’s still going on,” say the Materazis. “Just think of Calafiori and Tonali. Of course, we’re also thinking of those who go abroad to pursue other careers: it’s an issue that strikes us as very contemporary.” But for every Calafiori who goes to the Premier League and wins it in his second season, there’s also a Tonali who hits rock bottom and embarks on a journey of redemption. “We’re also interested in exploring the Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde that can exist within a single person,” they say. The demons that must have haunted the Tottenham player’s mind are, in a way, exorcised by the chant that his former Newcastle fans had devised for him, and which the Materazis have included in Tonali (I miss the sun): “He drinks Moretti/He eats spaghetti!”. Recorded just outside London with producer Jake Long in a studio housed within a farm – “a bit run-down but still beautiful” – where a reclusive star like Kate Bush had lived for many years, The Italian Job is set to become the centrepiece of the band’s concerts. The tour kicks off on 6 November in Turin and, at each stop, will pay tribute to local football through the teams’ shirts which, as has become tradition, the audience lends or gives to the musicians. This blend of live music and football was even brought to the stage last year by Oasis during their packed reunion tour, featuring cardboard cut-outs bearing Pep Guardiola’s face and calls for the audience to perform the ‘Poznan’ – the choreographed routine that their Manchester City supporters had learnt from those of Lech Poznan during a long-ago Europa League match. They are unlikely to match the Gallagher brothers’ success, but Materazi Future Club had been thinking about bringing football into music right from the start.