On February 6th, the Opening Ceremony of the Winter Games will also mark the farewell of major events at La Scala del Calcio, practically a hundred years after its inauguration. The stadium is named after Giuseppe "Peppin" Meazza, who provided us with a journalistic scoop in 1979. How could we forget him?
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August 1979: yes, more than 46 years ago than this January 2026.
Having arrived in Via Solferino, Milan, the headquarters of the Gazzetta dello Sport, just three months ago, I was summoned by the editor-in-chief Gino Palumbo to his office, which was as tiny as he was. It was on the second floor, above the Corriere della Sera: to the right of the "Divine" Bruno Raschi and to the left the Editorial Office.
At that time I crowded into the kitchen of the Football Editorial Staff because "everyone must immerse themselves in the football pool".
Palumbo has different ways of “calling” its collaborators.
In my case, the declensions are: “Angelino,” affectionate; “Angelo,” confidential; “Zom,” canonical; “Zomegnan” … so dry and formal as to appear threatening.
Calcio is headed by Lodovico Maradei: organizer of services, layouts, and high-class cuisine. The architect of a Ptolemaic-style management: the editorial staff's sun and its emanations.
Maradei takes me to Palumbo, who says, “Giuseppe Meazza is dead. I don't know where. I don't know when. But he's definitely dead. Let's find him… It's your turn,” and he looks at me, tapping his middle finger on my chin. His, of course.
An invitation? No: an assignment, which amounts to a supreme challenge because that information—as we later learned—had reached not only Palumbo, but also other newspaper editors.
Minimum information.
Fierce competition.
Challenge sum.
Maradei urges: “Forget everything else, focus on Meazza.”
Meazza is dead. Palumbo too. Maradei is alive and can testify with the same superior impartiality he did when he compiled the report cards for the Italian national team, which at the time consisted of players like Zenga, Bergomi, Maldini, Baresi, Ferri, Ancelotti, Donadoni, De Napoli, De Agostini, Vialli, Altobelli, Giannini, Mancini... If we had them in 2026, we wouldn't be facing a Ringhio Gattuso so eager to earn his way to the new World Cup of the Americas.
Let's go back to Meazza.
You can't count on smartphones and Wikipedia, for starters.
A dive into the archives to visit the award-winning duo Motta & Bertoni is a must.
You rummage around here and give.
The globetrotting Meazza was born in Lissone (then in the province of Milan, which became Monza and Brianza in 2004). He grew up in the very Milanese neighborhood of Porta Vittoria with his mother Ersilia, originally from Mediglia. He lives in Monza. In the summer, he spends long periods at his vacation home on the Riviera (the eastern one, not the western one where the Milan-Sanremo race and the Festival are held).
His CV says it all. Meazza is the number one in Italian football, a sort of Maradona for Argentina or Pelé for Brazil.
Given his activism, resulting friendships, and connections abroad (for example, Türkiye), death could have struck anywhere. Most likely, Liguria. That's right.
…but his body is already in Monza, a stone's throw from the Royal Villa!
The family is silent. Friends too.
The home phone numbers… (but what cell phones in the late 1970s???) are silent.
Let's take a look at his career. He began with Gloria FC. Then: Inter, Milan, Juventus, Varese, Atalanta, and Inter again, concluding his Serie A playing career, which spanned from 1927 to 1947.
"Balilla," standing 169 centimeters tall and reflecting the era he lived through, holds a place in everyone's hearts thanks to the 270 goals he scored in 463 Italian league matches and 53 international matches, netting 33 goals. If you count friendlies, he scores 552 goals. And yet, AC Milan rejected him at 14 for being too small. This was around 1924.
Let's go back to August 22, 1970. "Peppino" passed away the day before. And the next day marks his 69th birthday.
He cannot be buried before dawn or after sunset. If he lives in Monza, on a side street off Viale Cesare Battisti, which leads from the Rondò to the Villa Reale, his farewell can be said—what do I know?—in the Sanctuary of the Carmelite Monastery of Santa Teresa di Gesù Bambino or in the parish churches of San Lorenzo or San Biagio.
Excluding the Sanctuary due to the proven secrecy surrounding death, we must concentrate on Via Prina.
We hired a renowned and high-quality photographer and went back and forth between the house and the Church of San Biagio. A legend of that caliber couldn't escape our notice.
In fact, there's no escape. At midmorning, we intercept a short, mournful funeral caravan. The funeral wagon. Two cars, and the third is my white Golf: me driving, the photographer half-leaning out the window to capture every moment of interest. Seat belts aren't mandatory yet. And even if they were...
The procession heads toward Milan's Viale Fulvio Testi and takes the outer ring road. Respect all road signs and traffic lights. Enter the capital. It turns toward the Sempione Pass and reaches the Cimitero Maggiore, passing near the home of Antonio Maspes, another legend of Milanese, Italian, and world sports!
Scoop successful.
Gazzetta ahead of all other newspapers with exclusive article and photos.
Palumbo's delivery satisfied and honored.
Competition annihilated.
Even then there were keyboard lions (usually on Olivetti Lettera 22): that time, shut up!
Pride and presumption.
A curiosity: It's not true that Meazza's first burial is located in the Monumental Cemetery... he arrived there a quarter of a century later, to enter the Famedio alongside Tullo Morgagni (organizer of the Lombardia, Sanremo, and the Giro d'Italia), the aforementioned Palumbo Maspes, and Edoardo Bianchi, who inspired generations of cyclists and car enthusiasts like Giardiniera, Bianchina, A111, A112, Primula...
Why does Meazza come to mind?
Simply because the San Siro Stadium is named after him and is about to become a major news story for the news and for the Opening Ceremony of the Milan Cortina 2026 Olympics, adding something new and unacceptable to the criticism already recorded for weeks about the march of the Olympic Torch from Athens to Rome and then carried through practically every region of Italy until – precisely – Milan.
Those in the know say that the so-called antagonistic fringes are working to organize a boycott of the Games, focusing their attention precisely on the last torchbearers, who will carry the torch to the main cauldron of the Olympics in the midst of the first widespread ceremony organized by the brilliant, expert, and innovative Marco Balich.
And then what?
Then the Olympic Stadium, the largest in Italy with its 85.000 seats and which was sold to the Milanese clubs Inter and AC Milan for 195 million excluding ancillary costs, will be practically destroyed and with it the image of Giuseppe Meazza will also be scarred to make way for a new Scala del Calcio in five years.
A little bit of my Meazza will also go away, along with that adventure that led us to break some of his family's privacy.
They will forgive us.
Now we're eagerly awaiting Mariah Carey and Andrea Bocelli. A little less so Ghali: sorry, but he's not my cup of tea.
The appointment is for Friday, February 6th.
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