The return of Lazio as an Italian force is clouded by fans
FOR Roman viewers, the sight of Sven-Goran Eriksson inspiring a powerful performance from a side clad in pale blue and white at Upton Park on Saturday must have offered a piquant stab of nostalgia. The Swede's tenure at Lazio at the end of the 1990s had coincided with one of the club's periodic upswings in fortune.
By the time Eriksson had moved to England, the glory days had turned particularly sour. Just four years ago, thanks largely to the dodgy dealings of former president Sergio Cragnotti, Lazio owed £150million and could easily have become the Italian version of Leeds United. The expensively acquired squad - £40million for Hernan Crespo? - was put up for sale at knock-down prices, and obscurity beckoned. In the same way a visitor to northern Italy failing to wear designer threads is treated with amused disdain, an impoverished club in Serie A is regarded with contempt.
Now there are tentative signs of a revival at Lazio, with a return to Champions League football this week, and the club has achieved it by going against the grain of Serie A culture. Three years ago, they were rescued from imminent closure by the stern-minded and prudent Claudio Lotito, who made a fortune from a cleaning and security company (it is a gloriously Italian idea to combine the roles of cleaning offices and making sure they don't get robbed).
Lotito is a Latin Alan Sugar without the bludgeoning ego. He has challenged the Italian consensus about the flamboyant way football clubs are run. Serie A clubs have always been about acquiring the best global players and paying them immense salaries, and Lazio had been no exception - ask Paul Gascoigne. Making a virtue out of necessity, Lotito ended this approach.
He did so with that controversial innovation, the salary cap, set at 750,000 a year. To put that into some kind of obscene context, the maximum annual salary at Lazio is equivalent to what John Terry makes in a month. This summer Lazio needed a new goalkeeper to replace Angelo Peruzzi. They tried to sign the promising Marco Amelia from Livorno, but Amelia laughed at their wage package. Lotito shrugged and looked elsewhere. Such pragmatism is thoroughly un-Italian, but refreshing.
The frugality has had obvious repercussions on the team. The present side finished third last season, despite a three-point deduction for their involvement in the match-fixing scandal, but is substantially home-grown. Coach Delio Rossi, denied the opportunity to shop in the designer outlets, has made a virtue out of the domestic strain of footballer. Sebastiano Siviglia and Luciano Zauri are key players at the back, Massimo Mutarelli and Stefano Mauri run midfield and Tommaso Rocchi, is the reliable, if unflashy, goalscorer.
Neutrals will watch tomorrow's match against Dinamo Bucharest with a certain ambivalence. On the one hand, there is a willingness to see prudence rewarded, on the other, there is the background rumble of Lazio's notorious fascist cadre among their fans.
Racism remains a serious concern in Italian football, with Lazio one of the country's most consistent offenders. It hardly helped when Paolo Di Canio made a habit of greeting his beloved Lazio fans with a fascist salute, and expressed his admiration for Mussolini.
A more demagogical president than Lotito might have tolerated this element to further his own popularity. The hard right has long been a part of Lazio's 'tradition' and the president did not need to jeopardise his own position by confronting it (if he needed any lessons in turning a blind eye to bigotry, he could have studied the 20th century history of the Old Firm). In fact, he tackled it directly. He sold Di Canio last summer, a practical alternative to the tempting notion of stringing the player up by the heels in a garage like Benito. The fans hated the president for it, and for his determination to stamp out the racist element in the stands. Their grumbles have only been temporarily stifled by the team's success.
Morality aside, Lotito's campaign is astute, and anticipates UEFA's belated crackdown on racism in football. Michel Platini, that old Juventus hand, has promised to expel clubs who fail to expunge racism either on the field or in the stands. Platini will realise punishing a few minor Eastern European clubs would cause a few ripples, but to produce proper waves he needs to pick on a club like Lazio. The question at the Stadio Olimpico is can the impressively focused new-look team persuade the poisonous element in their fan-base to applaud them for football alone?
by TOM LAPPIN