Italian Football’s Deja Vu: Malagò’s ‘Election’ Rings Familiar Chimes for Beleaguered FIGC
POLICY WIRE — Rome, Italy — Another World Cup without Italy. It’s a particularly bitter pill for a nation that breathes football, a global superpower on the pitch now routinely tripping over...
POLICY WIRE — Rome, Italy — Another World Cup without Italy. It’s a particularly bitter pill for a nation that breathes football, a global superpower on the pitch now routinely tripping over its own shoelaces. And in the wake of such a spectacular, frankly embarrassing, failure—missing two consecutive World Cups is hardly a stumble, it’s a full-blown existential crisis for the Azzurri—comes the predictable scramble for power. Enter Giovanni Malagò, former chief of Italy’s Olympic Committee, CONI, now poised to sweep into the presidency of the Italian Football Federation (FIGC).
It’s not so much a campaign as a meticulously orchestrated coronation. Malagò’s ‘announcement’ on Tuesday night, relayed with much fanfare from a charity dinner in Cortina d’Ampezzo (because where else would you declare your intent to save a collapsing football empire?), merely formalized what most in Rome’s political and sporting circles had known for weeks. He’s been holding court, gathering endorsements, kissing hands. The man met with everyone: Serie A, Serie B, Serie C, the Amateur Leagues (LND), players, coaches—the whole cabal. But wait, there’s a dramatic pause, then the big reveal, almost as if anyone doubted he’d throw his hat in the ring. He won’t just run; he’s practically already seated in the presidential chair. What suspense, eh?
“I can confirm that tomorrow morning, I will file my candidacy for the presidency of the football federation,” Malagò told a captive audience, per La Gazzetta dello Sport. No theatrics, just a matter-of-fact declaration, much like confirming tomorrow’s sunrise. He doesn’t even need to campaign, not really. The machinery has already moved. With the crucial nod from Lega Serie B secured, adding to his existing backing from Lega Serie A, the players’ association, and the coaches’ union, Malagò reportedly has a ‘clear majority’ of the electoral votes locked down. It’s a lock. You could set your watch by it. They call it an election; I’d call it a referendum with only one name that matters on the ballot.
And what of Giancarlo Abete, the other, shall we say, contender? Abete, a seasoned figure who’s held the FIGC reins before, represents continuity for some, stagnation for others. One source close to his camp (who requested anonymity due to the delicate power balance) suggested Abete feels Malagò’s path is less about genuine change and more about consolidating existing power blocs. “Our football needs genuine introspection, not just a reshuffling of the deck chairs,” Abete said recently in a thinly veiled jab at his rival, speaking to a small group of reporters after a private meeting. He isn’t wrong; it’s a sentiment many fans across Europe, from Liverpool to Lahore, likely share when they look at sports governance.
The numbers don’t lie about the system’s peculiar structure, either. The Lega Serie A has 20 delegates, giving it an 18% share of votes. Lega Serie B, another 20 delegates, but only a 6% share. Serie C holds 57 delegates for 12%. But it’s the LND, the vast amateur leagues, that truly flexes muscle. They command a formidable 34% of the total electoral votes, according to FIGC statutes, giving regional grassroots powerbrokers a disproportionate — some would say baffling — sway over the national sport’s direction. It’s a setup that ensures broad regional support is king, regardless of elite-level results.
Because Italy’s football failures, you see, aren’t just an internal squabble. They echo far beyond the Apennine Peninsula. The Serie A, once the envy of the world, now struggles to recapture its old glamour. But it’s still big business, a cultural touchstone whose ripples spread globally. Think of the massive fanbases across the Muslim world and South Asia; they track European leagues, and Italy’s dip tarnishes the sport’s broader appeal, making it harder for these leagues to expand their global footprint, forge new sponsorships, or even inspire young talent in places like Pakistan, where cricket reigns supreme but football retains a strong, passionate niche following. Strong governance here affects everything, even how keenly a teenager in Karachi watches AC Milan or Inter.
What This Means
Malagò’s ascent, effectively rubber-stamped before the formal vote, isn’t just about one man. It signals a continuity of the existing political frameworks within Italian football. Expect a more centralized, potentially rigid, approach to governance—a system designed to appease the various power blocs rather than ignite radical, disruptive change. For a sport in crisis, missing out on back-to-back World Cups for the first time in history, one might hope for a volcanic eruption of fresh ideas. Instead, what we’re getting feels more like a controlled burn, designed to minimize disruption to the established order.
Economically, this stasis has implications. Italy’s struggle to reclaim its top-tier status directly impacts television rights, sponsorship deals, and the ability of clubs to compete financially with their English, Spanish, and German counterparts. A leader installed by consensus rather than a hard-fought battle may lack the political capital—or the audacity—to implement the deep structural reforms needed to truly modernize the game, from youth academies to league structure. There’s a soft power angle here, too. Italy, through its culture — and sports, projects an image to the world. A struggling national team, a bureaucratic federation, this diminishes its global appeal. Just as tennis star Jannik Sinner’s victories have been celebrated as a sign of Italy’s renewed vigor in another sport (a kind of ‘red reign’), football’s woes weigh heavily on that narrative. It suggests that despite new faces, the old challenges, particularly in decision-making velocity and courage, will likely persist. We’ll be watching to see if Malagò’s surefooted climb to power translates into a much-needed revitalized pace for the Azzurri. Or if, like Sisyphus, Italian football is just pushing the same old stone up the same old hill, again.
