Original article from France Football, published in 2021.

A barley coffee instead of a black one—because at nearly 78, one must look after the heart. Gianni Rivera sips it on the terrace of the tennis club bar at the Foro Italico, Rome’s famous sports complex adjacent to the Stadio Olimpico. “Tennis is my second sport. Tomorrow, I’m playing for half an hour with my coach,” he remarks. His slender physique confirms this activity; Rivera maintains the footballer’s silhouette and the perpetually impeccable hair that made him one of the most elegant players in football history—carrying that air of aristocracy and dilettantism that followed him even onto the pitch.

He brought along his autobiography, a 500-page volume filled with countless personal archive images and press clippings. “My father kept every newspaper under the stairs at home in Milan. He organized them in shirt boxes and wrote the year on the lid. When he passed away and we cleared the house, I wanted to throw it all away. My wife told me: ‘You’re crazy!’ We saved everything and made this book.”

Rivera flips through it until he reaches a double-page spread featuring four photos of the 1969 Ballon d’Or presentation and an article from Corriere della Sera. He points to the pull quote with his middle finger: “This is what I’m proud of.” Without being asked twice, he begins an immodest reading of the piece: “In a parched, even mean football world, with too many suspicions of doping and high bonuses distorting the truth, Rivera is the only one who gives a poetic meaning to this sport.”

A Victory Learned from the Papers

He is suddenly catapulted back fifty-one years, to when he wore the Milan crest on his chest, the number 10 on his back, and the captain's armband. “It was after Christmas, and I learned about it through the newspapers... Everything was much simpler then. I knew I was among the favorites because we had won the European Cup against Ajax (4-1), then the Intercontinental Cup against Estudiantes (3-0, 1-2). But I didn't harbor any particular illusions. If I won individual prizes, I was happy; if not, I waited for the following year,” Rivera recalls. His first reaction upon discovering his success was characteristically ironic: “Clearly, French newspapers don’t read the Italian press!”

He elaborates on this acidic remark: “Some found me unpleasant because if there was something to be said, I said it. Well, they’re all dead now, but it was also sometimes a ‘calculated’ dislike because the director of La Gazzetta dello Sport was a friend of Angelo Moratti, the president of Inter in the 1960s. Whenever he could, he denigrated me, the captain of Milan.”

While his talent was indisputable, the man himself never reached a consensus across the Alps, and Rivera is perfectly aware of it—even if it means adjusting reality: “I learned later that the Italian juror (Aldo Bardelli) hadn't initially voted for me. The organizers then told him: ‘Act like nothing happened, say you messed up, vote for Rivera too. It won’t change the ranking anyway, and it looks bad to give him the Ballon d’Or with your opposing vote.’” It’s a bold (and unverifiable) claim that reveals his long-standing feuds.

Close to the Ballon d’Or Six Years Earlier

1969 was a tight duel with his compatriot Gigi Riva. This is also why the trophy was only presented four months later by Max Urbini, editor-in-chief of France Football, during a Milan-Cagliari match—the penultimate day of the season with the Sardinians recently crowned champions of Italy. “Gigi came second by four points. It meant Italian football was at a high level. He’s in many photos of the trophy presentation. We didn't need to exchange words; we were just there, close to each other... We took the photo, looked at each other, and went to play. Simply. I look impassive in the shots, but I always celebrated my successes that way, even goals. At most, I’d raise my arms.”

A reward that, according to the Alessandria native, could have arrived six years earlier. “I learned much later that I finished second in 1963 because, at the time, we only knew the winner's name. Apparently, I was leading the standings, but ‘they’ wanted to give it to Lev Yashin for his overall career,” he claims, “even though he hadn't won anything special that year. But I completely understood that choice, no problem.”

Today, as then, Rivera views the matter with detachment: “If they chose me, it’s because I was the one who stood out most; I had the inventiveness, the technique, the sense of organization. I was also the captain; I helped my teammates a lot. In fact, if I could have, I would have cut the trophy into pieces to give a bit to each of them.”

The Italian Most Frequently in the Top 10

Rivera was 26 in 1969 and at his peak. “At that moment, I imagined I could win others,” he admits. “It closed the first part of my career, but the second was more complicated. Things didn't always go well at Milan. We were ‘robbed’ of a few titles; everyone knows it.”

This famous plain-speaking earned him enemies, but not among his teammates: “The relationship never changed, and that depended on me. If I had played the hero, if I had made it felt like a weight, yes, it could have caused jealousy, they would have told me to get lost, but I kept my feet on the ground.” He doesn't minimize the impact of the Ballon d’Or, but he feels it didn't upend his status or daily life. It was a different era. Above all, it was awarded to a player who had already been in the spotlight for a decade. “I reached the top level very young, debuting in Serie A at 15. At 17, I was at Milan and immediately a starter. At 18, I was an Italian champion, and at 19, a European champion. So no, it changed nothing. For me, football was always about going on the pitch to have fun, even if I obviously wanted to win.”

He holds a significant record: he is the Italian player most frequently ranked in the Top 10 (1962, 1963, 1964, 1965, 1968, 1969, and 1973). “Ah yes, that’s a significant statistic. It’s the result of a career that saw me at the forefront for twenty years. I don’t know if that makes me the best Italian of all time—that’s for others to say—but Paolo Rossi won his in fifteen days in 1982; Fabio Cannavaro’s was to reward a team triumph in 2006. Then there’s Roberto Baggio.” And Omar Sivori (1961), but he was born Argentinian, which perhaps makes Rivera the first truly great homegrown Italian player of the post-war era. “Yes, that we can say.”

The Real Trophy in a Safe, the Replica in the Museum

Today, there are two Gianni Rivera Ballons d’Or. The real one is well-hidden at home: “For a while, I displayed it on a shelf, I didn't even pay attention to it anymore, but a thief entered through the window one day. We decided it was better not to leave it in evidence. Today, it’s in a safe—which, incidentally, allowed it to survive a fire.”

The "fake" is a replica in the AC Milan museum: “Except it’s the new version, whereas mine is the single, more compact block, which I like very much. I told the directors: ‘I’ve never seen this one!’ We are actually in a legal dispute because they use my name, my image, and a Ballon d’Or that isn't mine, and they charge visitors for entry without giving me anything. If the museum tour were free, I’d be perfectly fine with it.”

This dispute reflects his current relationship with the club. After retiring in 1979, he became vice-president until Silvio Berlusconi arrived seven years later: “If you don’t always agree with him, he can’t stand you. He created the conditions for me to leave because he didn't have the courage to fire me.”

A Coaching License at 75!

After football came a successful political career: four terms as an Italian Deputy and one as an MEP. His photo with the Ballon d’Or even appeared on his election leaflets: “Because my playing career will always be more important than the rest.”

He finds it hard to judge his successors: “I didn't know them well, especially the most recent ones like Messi and Ronaldo. Right after me, there was Gerd Müller, Johan Cruyff, and Franz Beckenbauer—the best of the 70s, not bad, right? Who’s missing? Among my teammates, I’d say Dino Zoff, who deserved it for his career, like Yashin. And since we’re talking about goalkeepers, I’d also mention Enrico Albertosi.” Michel Platini is a name that moves him: “In 2012, he gave me the UEFA President’s Award. He was unlucky with Blatter—not stupid, but probably a bit naive... It hurt me for him; it’s a real shame.”

In 2010, the Italian Federation called upon its legends to relaunch a struggling national team. Rivera was appointed head of the youth section, and in 2013, the technical section at Coverciano. “While following the activities, I felt like getting my coaching licenses. I got them all, the last one two years ago. I’m ready to work. If a club wants a white-haired coach, I’m the one!”

While waiting for a global context more favorable to travel, he enjoys the Roman lifestyle where he has lived since his parliamentary days. And he looks after his son, whom he had the audacity to name Gianni: “I used to go with him when he played football; I never said a word. After a while, he got tired of it and turned to music. He plays percussion and piano.”

An artist, just like his father.