In 2006, evidence came to light to show that the referee-selection process was fixed. Phone taps of a bewildering nature and variety revealed a dark world of deception, fraud and moral and political pressure. At the centre of this corrupt system stood Luciano Moggi, sporting director of Juventus (where he had been appointed in 1994). Moggi was in close contact with the two designators Pairetto and Bergamo throughout the 2004–5 season (when some of his many mobile phones were tapped) and – presumably – at other times as well. It became clear that Moggi could ‘choose’ certain referees for his team, and for other matches he was interested in. The public sorteggio was a farce, carried out every week in front of gullible (or cynical) journalists and officials. Most of this ‘helped’ Juventus, who had a number of referees ‘on their books’, but other clubs were not outside the system. Psychological slavery was not just psychological, it seems. Referees would help the big clubs for many reasons: their career (including international football), prestige, power and ‘gifts’ of various kinds. Those who resisted were punished – by being sent to Serie B, criticized on television (where Moggi influenced journalists) and even physically. In November 2004 referee Paparesta dared not give a clear penalty to Juventus, who lost the game 2–1. He was threatened and locked in his own dressing room for his pains, an act which led to Moggi being charged, rather theatrically, with ‘kidnapping’.
Pierluigi Pairetto held the post of ‘co-designator’ up until 2005. An international referee in his youth (he refereed the final of Euro ’96, giving the Czech Republic a dubious penalty) and full-time vet, Pairetto has the most difficult job in the Italian football world. The youngest referee to officiate in Serie A, he was only 29 when he took control of his first game in 1981. Pairetto, when he was still refereeing matches, took his job extremely seriously. He trained every day, re-viewed previous games, and was in bed by ten every night. His mother ironed his kit for him. In 2000 he was at the centre of an embarrassing incident.
Watchgate
In January 2000, a strange item of news started to break in the press and sports media. The president of Roma, Franco Sensi, had given the two most important and powerful figures in the referees’ association – the designators – a nice Christmas present. Each had received a gold Rolex. Sensi’s defence was that he had ‘only spent’ 120 million lire (about £40,000). Moreover, he had ‘always’ (at least over the last five or six years) given presents to the ‘designators’. The year before, it had been champagne – six bottles at £70 a bottle. ‘It was an act of courtesy,’ he continued, ‘Roma wants nothing from the referees. If they want to give the presents back, that is their problem. They are free to receive presents if they want. All the costs were declared and are included in Roma’s budget. Everything has taken place in the open.’
After the storm broke, it turned out that a total of 41 Rolexes had been passed to many of the top referees, who were ordered to give them back. Only two of these were solid gold – worth £8,000 each on the street – whilst the lesser models were valued at a mere £1,800 each. Other presents turned up: Inter had given 36 electro-stimulators worth £700 each, while 74 linesmen had received Phillips watches worth £180 each. Some of the Rolexes could not be recovered. One referee had already sold his on. Nobody resigned. A judicial inquiry was opened, and closed, and the tax police also became interested for a while. Meanwhile, unlike the lowly referees, the ‘designators’ kept their gold Rolexes. The justification? ‘If we had given the gifts back it would have led to more embarrassment and debate.’ ‘Watchgate’ only underlined the contempt with which most Italians regard their referees. Nobody was particularly surprised, or even outraged. The case merely confirmed their suspicions. During the 2006 calciopoli scandals, some accused Pairetto of deliberately leaking the ‘Watchgate’ story so as to damage Roma. One thing was certain, no scandal was ever as simple as it seemed.
Bribing Referees. Cheques and more watches
‘Only the referee can send a player off’
Football Federation Rule Book, 2002–2003
Given the widespread view that all referees are corrupt, unless proven otherwise, you would expect the history of Italian football to be packed with cases of corruption involving match officials. In fact, quite the opposite is the case. There have been many more cases of corruption, match-fixing and illegal betting involving players, managers and presidents than there have been involving referees. In 120 years of calcio history, very few referees have been caught in the act of taking bribes or fixing games. In a corrupt world, Italian referees have been paragons of legality. This could be seen as proof, if more proof were needed, of their heroic, virtuous minority status. The average Italian fan has an easy reply to this point. You do not need to bribe referees. They naturally favour certain teams at certain times. They are simply pawns in much wider power games. They become successful by helping the powerful, and following orders.
Nonetheless, there have been cases of referee corruption in the Italian game. In the early 1950s a group of referees were banned for life after it was revealed that they had been fixing results over a number of years. Later, one of the best-documented scandals involved referee Ugo Scaramella and Catania football club, at that time (1955 – a terrible year for the game in Italy, with at least three scandals) fighting against relegation to Serie B. This was not a simple story of corruption, and doubts remain about the real motives of the people involved. The whistle was blown by a journalist – Giulio Sterlini – who had also worked for the club in the past. According to Sterlini, he had personally given three cheques to Scaramella on three separate occasions, and had also bribed the referee’s cousin to find out which games he would be officiating. Some claimed that Sterlini was trying to blackmail Catania with this information. The club filled the papers with dirt on the journalist – he had, for example, been banned from every school in Italy when he was a student – and argued that the stories were revenge for his sacking by Catania. Yet, Sterlini’s story checked out – especially the money part. The club was sent down to Serie B; Scaramella received a life ban.
Other scandals have arisen which have placed referees in a good light – such as in 1974 when controversial referee Gino Menicucci was offered a watch (by a Foggia official) in his dressing room before a game with Milan. The watch was refused, and Menicucci mentioned the ‘bribe’ to the Milan president. After a 0–0 draw (which sent Foggia down), the gift was put on the table once more, and turned down again. Since Foggia were already down, they were punished with a deduction of six points in Serie B while Menicucci emerged with his reputation intact. In more than one hundred years of football history, in a country where scandals have been the norm, not the exception, the number of cases involving referees could be counted on the fingers of one hand. This had not helped their reputation. Venduto! – crook – was still the most common insult hurled at the men and women in black every Sunday afternoon.
At the sharp end. Violence against referees
In the early 1990s, I went to a boys’ football game near Florence with my ex-professor. His son was playing in goal. The vehemence and anger of the parents and relatives – the only real ‘crowd’ – were shocking. Some spent the whole game insulting the referee, and even threatening him. Others were happy merely to attack their own team, with particular focus on their own children. What was particularly disturbing was that the referee was also a boy, a little bit older than the players. The position of referees at the sharp end of the fragile legality of the