The usual political battle behind the temptation to dissolve the FIGC

If he had been informed that he needed to become a registered player in order to stand for election as president of the Italian Football Federation, how long might it have taken Giovanni Malagò to find a club willing to sign him? Perhaps no more than a second. Subsequently, however, he might have been accused of a conflict of interest, given his registration with Roma. Unfortunately, however, this is not a comedy show. Giovanni Malagò, a member of the IOC, former president of CONI, former president of the Milano Cortina 2026 Foundation, and the only president of the Italian Football Federation ever to have won a league title (albeit in five-a-side football), is at serious risk of being thrown out of Via Allegri. Placed under administration, just like those federation presidents caught with their hands in the till.

Malagò’s offence was that he had not registered as a member when he put himself forward as a candidate. But no one at Via Allegri warned him, because the Federation had always maintained that accreditation by one of its constituent bodies was equivalent to membership, as it allowed the presidential candidate to become part of the sporting community that would be voting in the elections. In short, nobody told Malagò that he had to become a member, because within the FIGC it was believed that accreditation by one of the six constituent bodies was more than sufficient. On the other hand, which do you think is more credible: a candidate put forward by the Serie A League, or a candidate who turns up with a membership card as a warehouse worker for a five-a-side football club? Common sense points to only one answer. The fact remains that two legal experts called upon to give their views have offered differing opinions, and now the CONI president says in confidence: “If we don’t place the FIGC under administration, we’ll end up being placed under administration ourselves.” It is clear where CONI is heading – exactly where politics wanted to take it before the elections, when many had let it be known that placing the FIGC under administration (with authority entrusted to Carlo Mornati) would be the best solution for Italian football. According to the Sports Prosecutor’s Office, membership constitutes a fundamental principle of candidacy and eligibility. The absence of this requirement could constitute a serious breach of sporting regulations. Faced with such an opinion, it is only natural that even a person of sound judgement such as President Buonfiglio should act in an apparently irrational manner.

Malagò had navigated the first hurdle (when some argued that, having been president of CONI, he did not meet the requirements to move straight to the FIGC), had secured 68.58 per cent of the vote, had made a couple of major blunders (Maldini and Pirlo, Bianchedi as head of delegation) and, as he prepares to watch his national team’s debut (on 25 September against Belgium), he finds himself in the eye of the storm. Not just a breeze. A proper storm which he considers to be ‘friendly fire’. Of course, it would be the last straw if someone who has always been accused of excessive cronyism were to end up getting shot down by a friend. The moral of the story is that he’ll learn to choose his friends more carefully from now on.

The battle, which appears to be legal and judicial in nature, actually has all the hallmarks of a political struggle. Those who do not want Malagò as president of the FIGC are the very same people who did everything in their power to prevent his re-election to the CONI. And now that CONI, chaired by someone whom Malagò himself pushed into the presidency, is set to vote in its executive committee to place him under special administration. Observers from outside the system are unlikely to grasp the dynamics, and if they do, it will become clear why Italian football is in a perpetual crisis of credibility. Malagò is no saint; he has made mistakes and will make more, but does the system really need to start from scratch with a commission merely because the elected president lacked a membership card? Not a party membership card, but a ball boy’s card.