Dino Baggio: Living in the Shadow of Roberto

This article first appeared on TheseFootballTimes and later on The Guardian

It’s June 23^rd and nearly one week into USA ’94. If you happened to miss the clash between Italy and Norway and, as one did in those days, checked Ceefax and seen the headline ’Baggio heads winner’, you would reasonably assume that Roberto Baggio had saved Italy’s blushes from a surprising early exit from the competition. Italy’s talisman and creator-in-chief was the planet’s finest player having won the Balon d’Or the previous December and had scored seventeen league goals for Juventus in the season heading into the tournament

Ray Houghton’s winner for the Republic of Ireland in the opening match of group stage E meant Arrigo Sacchi’s Azzurri had no alternative but to win their second game against the dull-but-resolute Norwegians.  In the 68^th minute Italy, who had been reduced to ten men earlier in the match, are awarded a free kick on the left hand side of the pitch. Beppe Signori, with his pint-sized left foot, whips a glorious ball into the box on to the head of the onrushing Baggio. He guides the ball powerfully past Erik Thorstvedt to give Italy the lead and eventually the victory.

Yet it wasn’t the pony-tailed genius that garnered headlines this time, it was the other Baggio, the unheralded yet-gifted central midfielder Dino Baggio.

David Platt's Italian Odyssey

This piece originally appeared on TheseFootballTimes.net

Often in football a player’s entire career trajectory can change with one swing of a boot. It’s June 26^th on a balmy night in Bologna. England are squaring off against Belgium for a place in the quarter final of Italia ’90, it’s the 119^th minute of a fairly even game when England are awarded a free kick some thirty-five yards from goal. What happened next would go down as one of the most dramatic goals in England’s recent history.

The then Aston Villa midfielder David Platt rids himself of his marker in the box for split second as Paul Gascoigne’s ball descends towards him. Platt swivels and connects beautifully with a right-footed volley which arrows across Michel Preud’homme and into his right hand corner. Platt peels away in celebration, euphoria overtaking him and sinking to his knees - a rare manner of celebrating a goal by his own admission – and is soon mobbed by teammates.

The goal was life changing for Platt, in the immediate aftermath of the strike and for the long-term effects. He had been a substitute in every game of the World Cup prior to the goal, following the Belgium game he subsequently became an automatic starter against Cameroon, West Germany and Italy. Scoring a further two goals in the quarter final and the third place playoff.

The England squad returned home as heroes for their unexpected run to the last four, restoring pride to the national game after a decade of darkness. It could be argued that with the exception of Gascoigne, nobody’s value rose higher after the tournament than Platt’s. He had been named PFA Player of the Year in the season leading into Italia ’90 as he rattled in nineteen goals in the league from midfield, yet his performances in Italy garnered international recognition and speculation was mounting that he wouldn’t be playing in the Midlands for much longer.

Defending Prandelli (To an Extent)

The inquest is by now underway, the nation of 60 million coaches trying to comprehend and explain what went wrong, but the fact is that Italy have been eliminated for the second consecutive time from the group stage at the World Cup. And just like in 2010, no one can deny it wasn’t merited. 

As expected Cesare Prandelli was severely criticized in the wake of the defeat to Uruguay, even more so than the defeat to Costa Rica five days prior. Ever the classy man, he resigned as boss of the Azzurri a short time after, citing ‘’ this was my technical project, and not a winning one’’, he said, dignified to the end. How can this have happened? And can we really put all of the blame on Prandelli?

Prandelli unquestionably deserves criticism for his selection choices in the remaining two group stage games, playing a 4-1-4-1 system against Costa Rica was his first major error of the tournament, yes it made sense to stick with the same tactics and same players that beat England in the opening game, but Costa Rica were never going to open themselves up and play into Italy’s hands like England in Manuas.

What if: Pele had joined Juventus in the '60s?

Pele and Sivori in 1961

If you asked people (old enough to remember of course) to describe Italian football in the 1960s, you will most likely get the same responses; ‘Catenaccio’,‘Helenio Herrera’ and ‘Nereo Rocco’. The 1960s belonged to the Milanese giants, on the domestic and European front; between them they won five Scudettos (including numerous runners up finishes), four European Cups and one Cup Winners Cup. It was the decade of La Grande Inter and Gianni Rivera.

Compare this to the fortunes of Juventus in the decade and it’s quite a stark contrast. Juve won back-to-back titles in 1959/60 and 60/61, a further title in 1966/67 and a sole Coppa Italia title in 1964/65. By La Vecchia Signora’s high standards it wasn’t the most successful of decades, but the entire landscape of Calcio could have been very different if a particular mission by the club had been successful.

The mission in question was a potential transfer that could have changed the face of Italian football in the '60s, over the years Juve have had numerous 'nearly done' transfers (Cristiano Ronaldo, Luis Figo and Xabi Alonso spring to mind), yet this 'nearly completed' transfer is by far the biggest of them all, and it is a relatively unknown story.  

The Asian Market : Premier League 1 - 0 Serie A

Beep beep, beep, beep, a familiar yet always unwelcome noise wakens me from a deep sleep, it's 3:40am on a Monday morning and the noise is my alarm clock. Why am I getting up at this ungodly hour you may ask? To watch my beloved Juventus of course, tonight’s opponents are Genoa at the Marassi.

I make my way out of the bedroom as quietly as possible and sit myself down on the sofa, still untangling the cobwebs from my head as I switch on the TV and find the channel showing the game.

The encounter itself was one worthy of curing a person with severe insomnia, that was until Andrea Pirlo stepped up in the 89th minute and curled a trademark free kick into the top corner, which caused me to run around the living room, silently screaming like a deranged lunatic at around 5.25am.

Usually only one outcome