"We gave our all in Azzurro." Interview with Angelo Domenghini

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The raspy voice of Angelo Domenghini , known as Domingo to all who loved him, 84 years of dribbling with increasing difficulty every day, comes from the sea of Liscia di Vacca, the cow beach, in the heart of the Costa Smeralda. In that Sardinia where the exploits of Gigi Riva's unrepeatable Cagliari are still being handed down, and, for those who don't know, he was also, and in no small way, his…

“I bought this house over fifty years ago. It was a good investment, even though none of my friends followed me. I paid 30 million for it. It would have been a bargain for them too. I come here when it starts to get hot. Then, when the water gets too cold, I return to Lallio, the village a few kilometers from Bergamo, where I was born and began to have my first daydreams. Small dreams that quickly grew until they became bigger than me. Over the years, Lallio's population has increased by fifty percent, and from four thousand before, we are now six thousand. And maybe even more. My father ran a tavern with my mother. We were nine siblings, six girls and three boys, and the house, which was upstairs, couldn't hold us all. Marcello, my eldest brother, lived in Palazzo Pesenti and was one of the most prominent people in the village. He had a piano, but music wasn't his thing, so he decided to sell it to buy Fausto's bicycle. Coppi. One of the sisters slept with her grandmother. The others were all crowded together in one room. Claudio, the youngest, and I, unfortunately, are no longer with us, along with Mom and Dad. In Lallio, there wasn't even room to pursue our dreams. To kick a ball around, my friends and I had to emigrate nine kilometers away, the distance to Verdello, which was twice the size of Lallio, where the oratory field was located and, above all, Don Antonio, who was in charge of everything. There was little time to train. I worked at Magrini as an apprentice, but deep down I hoped that the little light Don Antonio had lit wouldn't go out and I would become a full-fledged footballer, perhaps on a part-time basis, while waiting for the full-time position. With Verdello, I played in the First Division, until Don Antonio decided to sell me to Atalanta. Initially, I juggled two masters, Magrini in the morning and my new team in the afternoon, but one fine day, the factory people... They realized they couldn't do anything with a half-worker, and it was just Atalanta, just football, just dreams that ran with the ball at their feet. I earned one hundred and fifty thousand lire a month, just under double what I earned at Magrini, and in my third year we won the Coppa Italia, beating Torino in the final with three goals, all mine. The following year I was already at Inter, a team packed with champions, led by the magician Helenio Herrera."

The journey begins. Angelo Domenghini, born Lallio, becomes Domingo, like the great Spanish tenor, also born in 1941. And, with Inter and at Inter, he writes what remains perhaps the greatest story. Not of music and singing, but of football, the greatest show in the world. An epic story that lasted five years. His personalized list of achievements includes two league titles, a European Cup, two Intercontinental Cups, goals, and the astonishment of the entire world... Helenio Herrera? "He was the one who wanted me at Inter. After the fact, he had a clear vision. Great coaches, even magicians, are only as good as they are when they have a strong team, and he had a very strong one, from the first to the last member of the squad. He also had a bit of luck on his side, and that never hurts." Mazzola, Suarez, Corso and… Domenghini… “Please don’t forget Jair.” How could I? The Black Arrow… “The first two years I was a center forward. Then I moved to make room for him. I never felt like a winger. I was naturally what today we'd call a right midfielder, but in practice, which is very different from attitude, I did what the coach asked of me. Wide, wide, Valcareggi would shout at me, and I'd move out wide and take on the man. At Inter, they always talked about those three. Extraordinary champions, of course, but modestly, I was there too, the absolute best in my position. Others don't tell me that. I tell myself that.” From that unrivaled team to the historic 1970 Scudetto with Cagliari. From San Siro to the Amsicora, which would soon close its doors to make way for the larger, but less glorious Sant'Elia...

“It was a wonderful year. The enthusiasm was uncontainable. Gigi Riva was more than a symbol. He had the desire to pour it into his veins. He loved goals. He was a simple man, a winner, a lucky charm. Fortune favors the bold, and he was beyond bold.”

A few months after that unrepeatable and unrepeatable Scudetto, on June 17th to be precise, the 4-3 Italy-Germany match at the Azteca Stadium in Mexico City would take place, hailed as the match of the century in every language around the world. Two years after he had added the European Champion title to his list of trophies, once again under Valcareggi, who had wanted him at Atalanta at the start of his career, scoring the last-gasp goal that secured the play-off against Yugoslavia. One hundred and twenty minutes of fire pushing down the right flank, without a break… “What a match of the century! If anything, the extra time of the century. Five goals in half an hour, a rollercoaster of emotions, Rivera's great final goal. Before that, the ninety minutes of regulation time had been anything but a great spectacle, and if it hadn't been for Schnellinger's last-minute goal, it would have ended a paltry 1-0 and certainly wouldn't have gone down in history as a memorable match. And we can't forget that less than four days later came the final against Brazil, which we ultimately lost badly, after more than an hour of even play. Our true dream was to beat Brazil too and fly home with the Rimet Cup on the plane. Then, yes, it would have been a great celebration.” And instead? “And instead, on the way back to Rome there were beatings.” The beatings?

"Find out if you don't remember. They attacked the management van. I don't know if they were just angry about the six minutes given to Rivera, after the result was in the bag. I know we were criticized and that everything ended in a mess. The legend of Italy-Germany 4-3, the plaque at the Azteca as an everlasting reminder, the film and the reenactments came much later. Nothing new under the sun. When Italy doesn't win, there's always a scandal."

Today, the national team seems like a burden or a matter to be rushed through. It seems like a minor pain is enough to avoid a call-up or go home... "These are things I don't follow much, and above all, I'm not involved in them. What I can tell you is that we in the national team gave our all, but what do you expect? Football as a whole has changed. Few teams still play man-to-man, and the game is highly organized, even when the right players are lacking." You were criticized for losing the final against Pelé's Brazil. Today, Italy risks missing out on their third consecutive World Cup... “In football, results count, there's no point in crying.” Are the samples missing? “Ours is a strange country. When Roberto Mancini won the European Championship in 2020, his first since mine, it was all praise, kisses, and hugs. And of course, they were all phenomenal. Today, results aren't what counts, and they've all become duds. The truth is, results make champions.” Are you still dreaming of Angelo Domenghini? I often relive the best moments: the goals, the victories, the roar that echoes from the stands. As for dreams, they've always been projected toward the future. And at 84, the future is my grandchildren growing up. There are so many, you know, I can't even count them. They're the ones who still make me dream.

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