Roberto Baggio. The Divine Ponytail. Ice in his veins, angels singing in his legs, a complicated legacy that is an allegory for the beauty and brutality of Italian football, and goals. Lots of goals. Over the coming weeks, MUNDIAL will be bringing you the Baggio Chronicles—the definitive tale of Il Divin Codino, told by those who understand him best. We’ve already covered his meandering club days, including a complex origin story and his spells in Florence, Turin, Milan and Bologna. This week we’re delving right into the soul of Baggio’s Italy career…
One of my first memories is being five years old watching Baggio miss that penalty in that final against Brazil. I was in the living room at home in Los Angeles with my family and friends, and our bags were packed to go to Italy for the remainder of summer. My mother’s Italian, so with the World Cup in town, we’d hosted family and friends throughout the whole month watching the games religiously. As you can imagine, it was wonderfully exciting for a five-year-old, but as that awkward silence of defeat fell across the room, my world began to crumble.
“What do you mean we are going to the place that just lost?”
