by Ancient Alexander
LIVORNO
When he arrived here he was Sciu Aldo, in strong Genoese. Then in Livorno, where names (and sometimes more) last as long as a cat on the Aurelia, he became the Giallone because of his cadmium raincoat that he wore for good luck during the matches. He went on for approximately twenty years – every reference is purely coincidental – and his relationship with the Amaranth people progressively deteriorated. The ‘credits’ with which he showed up in the city of the Four Moors were not bad, to be honest. With the Genoa of Aguilera, Skuravy, Ruotolo and Torrente, coached by Osvaldo Bagnoli, he reached the final of the UEFA Cup. Then a less than idyllic exit and, after some time, landing in Livorno.
Yes, I’m disembarking. Because Spinelli was a football president out of passion, so to speak, since his main activity was that of a port entrepreneur: Spinelli Group, cargo handling. What better asset than another port to restore your virginity and extend the life of your business?
But the embrace of the red city was not always the most affectionate, especially while walking. Like those loves that start with a great infatuation and then end more or less with the throwing of the dishes.
Of course, Aldo Spinelli saved Livorno from another failure and lifted it from the anonymity of Serie C (it is now in D), bringing it back to Serie A after more than fifty years. He did it by collecting blow after blow, consolidating the position of an Igor Protti who was no longer very young but capable of leading the team with goals up to the second division.
Then it was one dream after another: the true Livorno brothers Cristiano and Alessandro Lucarelli, convinced to wear the amaranth shirt also thanks to Galante’s good offices. And the coach Donadoni, the discovery of Chiellini and many other young people, even the UEFA Cup which in these latitudes had only been seen on TV. The friendship with Luciano Moggi, with Moratti, with Berlusconi and Galliani, who sent players on loan to Livorno, was decisive. He even managed to convince the then President of the Republic, Carlo Azeglio Ciampi, who was very much from Livorno even if he didn’t seem to, to attend a match at the stadium.
But Spinelli was interested in the port. That was the real cake he craved. It was there, between cranes and container carriers, that the family’s million-dollar business revolved. For him, football was a little game in which, however, you no longer earn as much as the presidents of the past did. And times, as we know, when they change and you don’t keep up, they overwhelm you.
Lamberti, Cosimi, Nogarin, finally Salvetti, four mayors always heard the same thing asked with great insistence: “I invest in football, but in exchange give me more space in the port”, so to speak. On the other hand, as emerged from the interceptions of this investigation, “we need to work on big things”, he would have said. Bottom line: it’s not exactly what you’d call a healthy principle of love.
No one picked up (or took the bait). The passion between him and the city went towards the closing credits. No one ever pushed for him to actually put his hands on the platforms as he would have wanted, who isn’t even left-wing. Or perhaps he never did enough to fully deserve the trust of the people of Livorno. Who know how to love. But also sending you to hell with the force of a south-westerly blow.
