For years, Italian soccer fans have watched skeptically as Juventus collected scudetto after scudetto, winning nearly twice as many Serie A championships than its closest rival, AC Milan. But spectator cynicism grew with each last-minute penalty gifted to the team from Turin whenever a goal was needed to avert an unexpected defeat – I myself watched in disbelief when Juve, maintaining a narrow one-game advantage over the surging rossoneri with two games left in the season, scored three goals in the first eight minutes against a Siena team that had only given up 24 in 17 previous games.
The fact that eight of Siena's players, plus their assistant manager and another assistant coach, were all on loan from Juve was merely a coincidence, fans were assured by the Italian sports media, which often complains about the public's tendency to see conspiracies everywhere.
But, as it turns out, even the most paranoid fan's suspicions proved to be far too conservative compared to what was really going on behind the scenes. Over the last two weeks, Italian front-page headlines more commonly associated with wars have been announcing astounding revelations in what may prove to be one of the biggest sporting scandals in history.
Imagine if it was learned that Patriots coach Bill Belicheck had engineered New England's recent run at dynasty status by suborning the head of NFL officiating through bribes and threats. Imagine that in the place of solitary hit ref Dick Bavetta, David Stern was found to have 25 made men dressed as referees fixing the results of 82 games over the course of two seasons.
That's the American equivalent of what Juve's general manager, Luciano Moggi, is now known to have done. Magistrates in four cities are investigating further shenanigans even as transcripts of Moggi's cell-phone conversations are being published daily in the newspapers. Here's an excerpt from one of his discussions with Paolo Bergamo, the man responsible for referee assignments in Serie A:
Moggi: Bertini, Paparesta, Trefoloni, Ragalbuto, I had put in Tombolini, but before he screwed up with Lazio (a Roman team), I don't know about him here, he messed up, he gave a penalty ...
Bergamo: ... uh ...
Moggi: So those were the referees I put the heat on!
Bergamo: Rodomonti in the place of Tombolini, OK?
Moggi: Or Rodomonti in Tombolini's place, that's all right.
Bergamo: However it's done, it's the same, you see ... And honestly, I wanted to hold Tombolini out for a turn because he messed up. If we don't do it this way, wouldn't you punish him?
Moggi: Yes ... yes ...
The repercussions have already been impressive. Juve's entire board has resigned, its publicly traded shares are down 50 percent and the club that Fortune Magazine rated No. 6 in the world is now worth $350 million less than it was two weeks ago.
So, why is any of this of interest to Americans, who care little about Italy and even less about Serie A soccer? I believe there is a lesson to be learned here, in the way the scandal offers a momentary glimpse behind the veil of the world according to the mainstream media – a glimpse into the way in which the real power and money games are played around the world.
Conspiracy theorists are accustomed to being scoffed at, even as their paranoid predictions prove to be more reliable than the sober analyses of mainstream experts. To be sure, not all of them can be true – I'm particularly skeptical of those involving UFOs and aliens myself. But before you scoff at the next wild assertion you encounter, remember that only two weeks ago, all the experts were insisting that the game of calcio was clean, too.