Years after the infamous Calciopoli scandal shook Italian football to its core, Luciano Moggi, the architect of Juventus`s golden age and subsequent fall, continues to stand unbowed. Banned from the sport he once dominated, Moggi recently re-emerged with characteristic defiance, not only refusing to seek a pardon but also challenging long-held narratives about the scandal`s origins, particularly those from former Italian Football Federation (FIGC) president Franco Carraro. His latest statements offer a fascinating, if controversial, glimpse into a figure who remains stubbornly unrepentant, still very much an active, albeit unofficial, voice in the game.
The Unrepentant Maestro
For Moggi, the idea of a pardon is anathema. «Why ask for a pardon? Only someone with a life sentence asks for that… I haven`t killed anyone,» he asserts, echoing a sentiment he claims resonates with the public. Despite his official banishment, Moggi contends that public support remains strong, citing frequent requests for selfies in bars and restaurants. «I paid, I`m paying, but I haven`t killed anyone and people know it,» he states, drawing a clear line between his actions and crimes of a more grievous nature.
This steadfast refusal to admit guilt or seek clemency is central to Moggi`s enduring persona. It suggests a belief that the judgment against him was flawed, or at least disproportionate, and that his version of events holds more truth than the official narrative. It`s a conviction that seems to fuel his continued engagement with the very issues that led to his downfall.
Revisiting Calciopoli: A Counter-Narrative
Moggi`s recent comments were largely a response to Franco Carraro, who had suggested that Calciopoli stemmed from his own «political error» in attempting to replace referee designators Bergamo and Pairetto. Moggi dismisses this as «a real hoax.»
Instead, Moggi offers his own, familiar counter-accusation. He claims that in 2004, with Juventus and Milan battling for the Scudetto, Carraro – a former AC Milan president – actively sought to favor the Rossoneri. Moggi alleges a phone call where Carraro supposedly told designator Bergamo, «Make sure you tell him not to help Juventus.» The «him» was identified as Rodomonti, a referee officiating a Juventus match against Inter. Moggi interprets this not as an attempt to aid Inter, but to safeguard Milan`s interests should Juventus falter. It`s a classic Moggi maneuver: deflect, accuse, and reframe the narrative in his favor, portraying Juventus as the target, not the instigator.
He further challenges Carraro`s assertion that the two Scudetti stripped from Juventus should remain unassigned. «He doesn`t say what the Juventus directors are guilty of,» Moggi retorts, implying Carraro`s narrative is riddled with omissions. Moggi also points to Carraro`s alleged past admission of trying to help teams avoid relegation by harming others, framing this as hypocrisy when Carraro speaks of designators seeking Moggi`s «protection.»
To underscore his point about perceived bias, Moggi recounts an anecdote from May 2005. During a critical Milan-Juventus fixture, Juventus appealed a three-match ban for Zlatan Ibrahimovic. Moggi claims that a phone call between Milan`s referee liaison, Meani, and Bergamo revealed a clear lack of impartiality: «Griselli is from Livorno like me, Juve will find the door closed…» — a statement Moggi attributes to the designator, suggesting a concerted effort to deny Juventus their appeal.
The End of an Era and Life Beyond the Ban
Moggi reflects on what he believes was a pivotal moment for Juventus, predating Calciopoli: the death of Umberto Agnelli. He recalls the moment Capello was signed, and he told Giraudo to call Agnelli, only to be reminded that Agnelli was gone. «For us, it`s over…,» Giraudo reportedly said. Moggi understood the full weight of those words two years later, implying that Agnelli`s presence had been a shield or a foundational pillar that, once removed, left the club vulnerable.
Despite his official exclusion, Moggi`s life today is far from quiet. He describes himself as a «grandfather» whose grandson`s university friends want to meet him. More notably, he remains an unofficial football consultant, «giving advice on which players to sign: advice to everyone, even to more fashionable directors or coaches.» This paints a picture of a man whose expertise is still sought after, a testament to his undeniable, albeit controversial, acumen.
His managerial style, forged in a different era, is exemplified by classic anecdotes:
- Gianfranco Zola: Moggi signed Zola for Napoli as Diego Maradona`s understudy. Many doubted Zola`s potential, but Moggi saw his technique and personality. When Zola confidently stated, «Diego`s shirt? Just like any other,» after scoring, even Maradona was reportedly angered by his successor`s self-assuredness.
- Diego Maradona: Moggi recounts a disciplinary incident in Moscow where Maradona arrived a day late. Instead of the warm stands, Moggi sat him on the bench in the snow. His lesson: «Never treat champions differently, you lose credibility with the group.» A stern but effective approach, perhaps.
- David Trezeguet: Moggi`s oversight extended to players` off-field activities. He recalls catching David Trezeguet at the Hollywood nightclub on a week when European matches were not scheduled. Trezeguet, according to Moggi, «never stepped foot there again.»
Modern Football, Moggi`s Eye
Moggi`s analytical mind hasn`t dulled. He offers his assessment of Igor Tudor, the current Juventus coach, and striker Dusan Vlahovic. Moggi sees Tudor as «a leader» who «made his way despite not having a natural talent» during his playing days. He believes Tudor understands that Vlahovic is key to Juventus`s fortunes, but with a caveat: «Vlahovic must be sent onto the field from the bench: this way he can show the world that he is stronger than the other attackers.» Moggi suggests a tactical nuance, implying Vlahovic is best as an impact sub to prove his superiority. He candidly assesses Juventus`s prospects: «If Dusan performs, you can think of the top four places, otherwise I don`t see it as easy. And, anyway, I would have built the team with one more midfielder, and maybe a defender, and with fewer offensive men.»
The personal connection remains, too. Moggi proudly shares that Tudor named his boat in Split «Moggi,» a detail he uses to underscore his belief: «All my boys loved me. And they still do.»
Luciano Moggi remains a divisive figure, yet his voice continues to resonate in Italian football discussions. His recent remarks are a potent reminder that for some, the wounds of Calciopoli remain unhealed, and the narrative, far from settled. His unyielding stance, coupled with his informal yet undeniable influence, ensures that the shadow of Calciopoli, and the man at its epicentre, continues to loom large over the beautiful, often messy, game.
Elton Marrow