Presidents can make mistakes. But so can the fans, sometimes

To the editor – A measure is in the pipeline for next year: free number plates for those who don’t personalise theirs!

We shall soon discover that we are a nation of saints, poets, navigators and inventors of marvellous number plates (the real danger of which will be that they distract drivers even more than a quick tap on a mobile phone).

To the Editor – My grandfather is 84 years old and lives on the third floor of Piazza del Parlamento, with windows overlooking Montecitorio. A die-hard Lazio fan, in his youth he was a bon vivant who was always at the Jackie O’ with his friend Giorgio Chinaglia. On 11 June 2025, he hung up a banner reading ‘Lotito, free Lazio’, because his grandson simply wouldn’t let it go, and now his name features in the records of an investigation into attempted extortion. To understand why Lazio, top of the table, are playing in front of an empty Olimpico, you have to start there, not with the league table. On Sunday, against Cagliari, the commentator’s voice echoed off the concrete, followed by the chants of the Cagliari fans, and then silence. From the outside, observers call it a paradox, or asceticism, as Minuz wrote on Saturday. From the inside, the perspective is different: being a Lazio fan is passed down from father to son, and the battle—beyond the results of the moment—is to prevent the next generation from inheriting a Lazio with Lotito at the helm. They do not deserve it. The boycott began on 30 January, during the Lazio v Genoa match, following a transfer window consisting solely of player sales, and it continues: season-ticket holders have dropped from thirty thousand to four thousand, and the away end has been full at all five away fixtures – reaching as many as 10,000 against Sassuolo. It stems from twenty-two years of words. On the phone, in the calls from supporters he enjoys taking (he’s never changed the number in all these years), at the Montecitorio canteen where he called Lazio fans ‘arsholes’; in the June minutes where he calls them ‘drug dealers’ and ‘whores’, with old arguments that have been overturned on appeal; to those who want to dream, he has recommended a sleeping pill; to the singer Tommaso Paradiso, who wrote him an open letter, he replied with a Giallini-esque ‘who gives a shit’. How can one even think of a truce if one side denies the other the right to exist? With the necessary differences, the situation echoes that of Putin and Ukraine, which is not giving in. Alongside the sporting tally, there is a political one, and Forza Italia is paying—and will continue to pay—the price. Lotito has been a senator since 2022, elected in Molise – a region he admitted on the record he didn’t even know where it was; under the new electoral law, however, Molise won’t be a repeat: a safe seat is a ‘fixed’ lead candidate chosen by the party, and the 42 per cent bonus means every abstention counts. In Rome, where elections for the Campidoglio are due in the spring and the centre-right has no candidate, posters with the party symbol crossed out read: ‘As long as Lotito is around, you won’t get our vote’. This is a problem that the President of the Lazio Region, Francesco Rocca (FdI), is well aware of, whilst Tajani has replied that he is concerned about Juventus. However, no one has yet explained what the party stands to gain by backing Lotito – perhaps because the problem does exist, as many admit, but only in private for fear of causing further damage. Meanwhile, the team is winning with a squad of loan signings, but in January it must generate 19.5 million in capital gains – that is, sell the players who are winning – in order to be able to sign new players in June. The solution would be simple: a capital increase—albeit a minimal one—but this is heresy in Lotito’s vocabulary. All this with cash reserves of 1.84 million as at 30 June and a potential 437-million Flaminio stadium—a noose around Lazio’s neck, which would not finish paying off the banks until 2086. 30 January will mark exactly one year since the boycott, which has been covered by media outlets around the world, and something must happen. But instead of the hypocritical ‘glove of love’ proposed by sporting director Fabiani, here’s what’s really needed. First and foremost, Lotito should keep quiet, as Gattuso suggested on his first day. 20 November is World Children’s Day and Lazio v Lecce is on the 21st: Lazio should invite the fans and donate the takings to the Bambino Gesù Hospital (after all, someone at Lazio had thought of doing this for the Lazio v Monza match in October, hadn’t they?). Let the club’s public spokesperson be, for example, someone like Luigi Martini, full-back in the 1974 Scudetto-winning side and former MP for Alleanza Nazionale. They should also request that the bots that have proliferated on X—the sole defence of Lazio’s ‘conducător’—be shut down. If, by 30 January, the squad has not been dismantled, it might then be time for a fair truce, one that brings the thirty thousand or more back to the Olimpico. Including the grandfather, with his grandson regaining his smile even if Lotito hasn’t set Lazio free.

To the Editor – And now we’re also alone at the top of the Serie A table. There are loves which, to ensure they do not fade away, must leave their seat empty. Andrea Minuz gracefully recounts the Lazio paradox: the team wins, yet its supporters remain on the sidelines. But that emptiness is not an inability to be happy. It is the price that thousands of people pay so as not to confuse the joy of a Sunday with giving up their principles in the face of their president’s arrogance. I speak as a Lazio supporter spanning four generations, from my days as a ball boy in Lorenzo’s time, a century ago. I have written letters to Il Tempo, published ten questions for weeks to which Lotito has not replied, and received thousands of emails from supporters who are as passionate as they are outraged. Today I am also under investigation. I went to see the public prosecutor of my own accord. I urged the fans to follow the team on their away trips: love finds a way even when it deserts its home ground. You can celebrate a goal and still demand respect. The league table measures points; it does not exhaust the reasons for belonging to a club. Minuz wonders, with a touch of irony, whether Lazio play so well precisely because of the silence at the Olimpico. I suggest another interpretation: the protests have helped to unite the team and the manager and to push the owners to sign players – albeit through rather imaginative arrangements – who have proved to be crucial. Even those who leave their seats empty at the Olimpico support the team away from home. A protest that has resonated in the international press and garnered solidarity amongst supporters of other clubs. In Minuz’s affectionate portrait, there is also room for this pain: giving up the seat from which one would simply like to cheer. Behind every empty seat lies a story, a voice held back, a Sunday that takes its toll. Far from being ascetic: we too celebrate when a goal is scored. As for the president’s acquittal, however, the result is not enough.

Dear Spicciariello, dear Bisignani. I have read your piece carefully. It’s all very clear. But one question remains. The main accusation levelled at Lotito – amongst many others, which I understand – is that he has run Lazio into the ground. If Lazio were to achieve a significant result this year, would it be possible to say that the past accusations remain valid whilst the present ones do not? Conversely, if Lazio were to perform well, could one argue that credit is also due to the club, which has taken steps this year to secure its success, or not? Presidents can make mistakes; that goes without saying. I wonder if even the fans might sometimes be wrong.