Rogue Football: Libya and Juventus

As Libya descends into civil war, the trail of the Gaddafi family through the highest echelons of international government and sport becomes thicker by the day. In 2002, Al-Saadi Gaddafi, son of beleaguered ‘mad dog’ Muammar, joined the board of Italian Serie A giants Juventus. Earlier that year, the Libyan Arab Foreign Investment Company (Lafico), purchased a 7.5 percent stake in Juventus.

The Italian-Libyan relationship is not merely sporting, let alone cultural – the North African state was, at one point, part of Italy’s colonial project. Italy itself was, along with various Western powers, instrumental in bringing Libya back into the fold after years of isolation. From bombing planes and assassinating external enemies, the Tripoli government decided to turn its interest to more ‘constructive’ projects. The treaty of friendship duly provided Libya not merely with an apology for colonial misdeeds, but financial compensation.

Over time, Tripoli’s relationship with Rome, in the economic sense, has grown deep. (Consider, for instance, Gaddafi’s stake in Il Corriere della Sera, or the Milan stock exchange.) But however deep it was, Silvio Berlusconi would have been perplexed by the Libyan leader’s gifts on the occasion of his visit last year: a Koran, a book of Gaddafi’s sayings, and a 50 euro note.

It is questionable whether the Gaddafi family should ever have been allowed near weapons. Bullets tend to fly all too readily with a Gaddafi behind the trigger. It is even more questionable whether Saadi should ever have been allowed near a football. In true prima donna fashion, he selected himself the captain of Libya’s football side, not to mention assuming the mantle as head of Libya’s Football Federation.

Delusions of grandeur dominated – Saadi openly professed to modelling himself on striker Michael Owen, though he ultimately only ever became a model of foot balling incompetence. His prowess lay elsewhere. The then coach of the Libyan side, Franco Scoglio, was less than impressed by the megalomaniacal designs of the young Gaddafi, either on or off the pitch. ‘I would never have let him play, even for a minute. As a footballer he’s worthless’ (Scotsman, Oct 29, 2002). Scoglio was duly sacked, an unfortunate state of affairs given his work in lifting the country 16 places in the FIFA rankings.

Confirming Scoglio’s razor sharp judgment Saadi duly signed up for Serie A team Perugia in 2003, only to find himself playing one match and failing a drug test. He may well go down in history, not merely as one of Gaddafi’s more unstable offspring, but one of Italian football’s worst players.

Certainly, Gaddafi junior was worth his price (a Wikileaks cable disclosed from US diplomatic sources describes him as ‘notoriously ill-behaved’), less on the football market than on the market of quotes and theatrical folly. In putting Libya’s credentials forth for hosting the World Cup, he was less than flattering to his African compatriots. ‘We do not have any diseases here, unlike in other African states, and security is of the highest level.’

At one point, Saadi was even thinking of muscling into the British market. But that mountain was seemingly beyond reach. Purchasing Manchester United, he is reported to have said, would have been like buying the Church of England. Both Man U, and the Church, will be relieved about that impossibility as the conflagration in North Africa gathers pace. Juventus, with its Libyan connections, will be feeling otherwise.

Binoy Kampmark was a Commonwealth Scholar at Selwyn College, Cambridge. He lectures at RMIT University, Melbourne. Email: bkampmark@gmail.com

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