The countdown to the World Cup has begun! While some argue that the magic has waned, it remains an undeniable truth that this grand spectacle is still the largest and most anticipated event on the planet.
Before we immerse ourselves in the forthcoming non-stop footballing feast, we wanted to revisit some stories from the World Cup’s past.
It seems only fitting to begin this journey with Italy, a nation currently reeling from the immense heartbreak of failing to qualify for a third consecutive World Cup. The Italian camp had celebrated prematurely when drawn against Bosnia-Herzegovina in the play-offs; the players even cheered the result of the draw. However, things did not go as planned. The Azzurri suffered a humiliating capitulation in the play-off final.
Is the gloom descending upon Italian football merely a string of unfortunate coincidences? Or is this the brutal reckoning for a nation that has stubbornly defied the shifting paradigms of the modern game? Having led through Moise Kean, only to be rattled by Bastoni’s red card and ultimately waving the white flag with a 4-1 penalty shootout defeat, Italy has lost more than just a ticket to the tournament it has lost its stature. The subsequent resignations of FIGC President Gravina, head coach Gennaro Gattuso, and the legendary Gigi Buffon confirm the sheer scale of the wreckage.
The financial toll is heavy, with losses estimated at €90 million. Yet, the true deficit lies in human capital. The fact that only 33% of players in Serie A are eligible for national selection highlights that Italian football has become an “imported storefront.” As Jürgen Klinsmann pointedly remarked: had Lamine Yamal been Italian, he would likely be out on loan in Serie B right now “to gain experience.”
Roberto Baggio’s 900-page reform manifesto, submitted in 2011 and left to gather dust on a shelf, was perhaps the last exit Italy failed to take. Let us take a journey through time and examine Italy’s World Cup odyssey.
THE CONSTRUCTION OF A NEW NATION
As a giant with four World Cup titles (1934, 1938, 1982, 2006), where did Italy go wrong on the eve of 2026? To understand this decline, one must look at how Italian football was transformed into a tool for ‘nation-building’ and the motivations of those formative years.
THE PITCH AS A STAGE
As Simon Martin notes in Football and Fascism, football became an institutionalised part of the Fascist regime from 1926 onwards. Mussolini utilised the sport both to forge a national identity domestically and to project the regime’s power internationally. Under Vittorio Pozzo, the Squadra Azzurra lifted back-to-back trophies in 1934 and 1938; these triumphs were symbols of the regime’s “new Italian” profile as much as they were of tactical discipline.
The 1938 World Cup final: Referee Georges Capdeville with Italian captain Giuseppe Meazza and Hungarian captain György Sarosi.
THE BLACK SHIRTS
To comprehend today’s soulless defeats, we must return to 1938 the dark, majestic history that Italy once held so dear. The World Cup held in France that year was the clearest example of how football was ‘weaponised’ as a tool of diplomacy and propaganda. Facing the hosts in the quarter-final, Italy took to the pitch not in their traditional Azure, but in the “Maglia Nera” (Black Shirt) the symbol of Fascism by Mussolini’s direct decree.
As Pozzo’s men stepped out, they were met with jeers from thousands of Italian anti-fascist refugees. In defiance, Pozzo ordered his players to perform the Fascist salute in the centre circle. When the whistling continued, he made them repeat it; this was not merely a game, but a show of strength for the regime.
This photograph captures the Italy national football team on May 29, 1927.
It was taken at the Stadio Littoriale in Bologna before a friendly match against Spain, which Italy won 2-0. This era is historically significant as it marked the rise of Italian football leading up to their World Cup successes in the 1930s.
THE WEIGHT OF A TELEGRAM
The legendary telegram allegedly delivered to the dressing room before the final against Hungary cemented the ‘all-or-nothing’ DNA of Italian football. Three words, reportedly penned by Mussolini: “Vincere o Morire!” (Win or Die!).
While the physical existence of this telegram remains a point of debate among historians, it became ingrained in the soul of Italian football as a slogan. When the match ended in a 4-2 victory, the champions hailed themselves as the greatest in the world. The words attributed to the Hungarian goalkeeper, Antal Szabó, perfectly summarise the gravity of the era:
I may have let in four goals, but today I saved the lives of eleven men.
Antal Szabó
THE SILENT ERASURE
The root cause of Italian football’s collapse perhaps lies in the balance between domestic and foreign talent. In the past, players carried the weight of a regime’s survival or the responsibility felt towards a wounded nation (as seen after the scandals of 1982 and 2006). Today, a structure that has surrendered 67% of Serie A to foreign players, sacrificed creativity at the altar of tactical discipline, and views the necessity of winning as a mere professional requirement, has perhaps buried the pure spirit of the ‘street’ game.
Italy no longer possesses that chilling discipline, nor the pure predatory instinct of a Paolo Rossi. If Mussolini’s dark telegram were to arrive today, for most players, it would likely be nothing more than a social media post. We are witnessing the silent erasure of a giant; for there is no longer a story of ‘redemption’ to inspire them, nor a threat of ‘death’ to fear. Only a profound, echoing void