Berlusconi’s winning rugby and the end of the Milan Amateurs

Ghe think of me. And he took over the oldest and most famous team in Milan. Ghe think of me. And he will weave some of the best Italian players. What do you think me. And he signed some of the best international players. Ghe think of me. And in about ten years he won four championships. Ghe think of me. And when he was convinced that it wasn’t worth it, the investment, the money, he gave up everything. Ghe think of me. And since then, in the Italy of rugby, nothing would ever be the same again.

Berlusconi and rugby. The last discipline to enter his sports club project, the last to leave it – in pieces -, football excluded. The beginning in the late eighties. Sponsor Mediolanum, white jersey with horizontal red and black bands, but the field, always the same, the old Giuriati, old compared to the new one near the platforms of the Lambrate station, old as a grandstand, as a track (for athletics), as a ground, grassy only in August, then ruminated by formations, studs, training sessions, matches, with an area that became muddy with the first rains of September and marshy with the winter rains at least until late May, as old as changing rooms equipped with showers, but quickly without of hot water.

Rugby was not (and is not), as Berlusconi thought, the sum of fifteen players (on the field), plus two (on the bench, at that time), plus one (the traveling reserve, in the grandstand, at that time), plus others (diverted to the formation entered in the reserves tournament, at that time). Rugby was (and is) fifteen men (and fifteen women, now) close and united, cohesive and coherent, linked and mixed, sustainable and supported, fifteen together on the field plus seven on the bench plus others in the stands. A team. Team sport. Which is not measured on the strongest, but on the weakest. Who plays on technique as much as on feelings, on strategy as much as on spirit, on the strength of legs and arms as much as on that of the soul, which is always ready and mutual aid. Fourteen men (and women) who push, jump, fight, run, help each other to give the fifteenth a metre, half a metre, a span or a draft of advantage. And then see what effect it has.

Indeed. The first two years Berlusconi’s army stopped at the semifinals. The situation recalled one of the stories of Angelo Massimino, president of Catania football. What is missing from this team? asked the boss after an expensive transfer campaign. The amalgam, replied the technician. So let’s buy it!, thundered Massimino, thinking that it was (Lamalgama…) a South American playmaker. Until, by dint of purchases, the first championship arrived. Not for Catania football, but for the ancient Amatori rugby, in the 1990-1991 championship, the fifteenth Italian title in its history 45 years after the previous one, 37-18 over Treviso’s Benetton at the Tardini in Parma. Remo Musumeci, in L’Unità, would have written about what “seemed like a game of chess”, “with Benetton clinging to the score until then (18-18)”, then “disappeared from the field tried by a terrible scrum battle ”, as well as “one of those things you almost never see”, the Australian David Campese of Mediolanum who “picked up a ball” and “ran a slalom, in a corridor no more than 50 centimeters wide, for 70 meters”. That Campese, a phenomenon. For about ten years, double seasons, in Australia and in Italy, first in Petrarca of Padua, then in Milan. And his famous goose step, an irresistible feint and a relentless run.

Among the spectators of that first championship final there was also Fabio Capello, whom Berlusconi had wanted at the head of the sports club. Again in Musumeci, the Fininvest man “recounted having lived an experience that has greatly enriched him and that will be very useful to him in his commitment as coach of Milan”, “In the turmoil of the first half I said to myself ‘now the’ referee, to appease spirits, chases away a couple on each side’. Instead, nothing happened. It would be nice if in football there were less blatant displays after goals and a few more rudeness. I understood that in rugby you remain friends even after a few punches”.

The domination of Berlusconi’s army continued with another four finals (again against Benetton) and four championships, but also with a fifth final (against L’Aquila) and a defeat. And this defeat was historic: 23 April 1994, at the Plebiscite of Padua. David (L’Aquila) against Goliath (Milan). The team of a city, a civilization, an oval culture (L’Aquila) against the team of a project, a Fininvestment, an all-round industry (Milan). The ignorant rugby of the districts (L’Aquila) against the glittering one of the condominiums and residences (Milan). The amateurs (L’Aquila) against the professionals (Milan, even if professionalism was officially admitted only a year later). AND ringworm was right about elegance. Final: 23-14 for the neroverdi from L’Aquila. And also for all those who supported the idea of ​​a team game, village, country, province, community. Where it is essential to be hungry, desire, fire. Inside.

At the end of the 1997-1998 championship, Berlusconi took Milan away from the Amatori. And Amatori, also troubled by tax investigations, first joined Calvisano, then broke up. Why in those ten years he had invested only in the first team and not in the youth sector, in league titles and not in coaches and fields, in the top and not in the base. Of course, those who were involved in the winning formation recount the adventure with nostalgia and proudly claim the successes. Diego Dominguez, to Ansa, declared that “Berlusconi had a huge impact on Italian rugby, always winning with many other things”, explained that “we always went on television, we always had different cars or took pictures with people” and recalled that “I went on TV to a morning show, he, Berlusconi, and Bruno Vespa were there too”. But those years of spectacular professionalism and – to put it to Dominguez – hadn’t brought grass to Giuriati or a nursery to the Milanese, who in fact had rooted themselves even more in the other local clubs. It had been a gold rush. And when the vein ran out, the mud of that damned puddle remained in the middle of the old Giuriati.