Luciano Spalletti: the samurai who gave up everything, knows no joy

The portrait of the Tuscan coach according to Giancarlo Dotto: a solitary warrior, incapable of enjoying victory but ready to find meaning in pain. “His atonement must be total.”

Not just a coach, but a man in perpetual struggle. With himself, with his idea of football, with a world that doesn’t always understand him. His head “is already a helmet on its own,” writes Dotto in his portrait published in Corriere dello Sport. And every time he faces a challenge, he does so as if it were a battle from which to return with a wounded soul, but never defeated.

Spalletti does not know the lightness of joy. When he wins, he cannot enjoy it. When he loses, instead, he surrenders to pain with an almost mystical dedication. He doesn’t just lick his wounds: he reopens them, digs into them, seeks new ones. It’s his way of atoning, of staying alive, of feeling the weight of the responsibility he carries like a second skin.

A warrior even in daily life

Even away from the field, Spalletti maintains that fighter’s tension. “He goes to war even when he enters a bar in Montaione and insists on paying for everyone,” writes Dotto, describing the coach as a man who knows no half measures: he either embraces you or puts you against the wall, literally.

In his countryside estate near Florence, he finds refuge only among his animals, in that microcosm where he can “accept himself, if not love himself.” It is there that he lives the days of atonement, when defeat devours him and silence becomes the only possible companion.

The deepest wound

Dotto recounts that Spalletti’s true wound was not defeat, nor dismissal, nor criticism. It was the act of naive trust towards a group that had meanwhile changed: boys who had grown up, become “cunning, rich, and spoiled,” no longer willing to be swept away by his charismatic charm.

“Spalletti truly believed in it. He unsheathed and shouted his hyperbole,” writes Dotto. But when he looked back, he didn’t find an army of faithful followers. Only Marco Domenichini, his longtime assistant, “his ever-present Sancho Panza.” A powerful and melancholic image: the leader who discovers he is alone on the battlefield.

“He showed himself naked, and it was only grotesque”

The author describes the most human and disarming moment of the coach: “He showed himself naked and in the end, it was only grotesque.” A symbolic image: Spalletti exposed himself completely, believed in the purity of his role, but the world of football – ruthless and media-driven – returned him to reality, where feelings are worth less than results.

Yet, even in his vulnerability, he remains a consistent man. His atonement must be total, writes Dotto, because only through suffering can Spalletti continue to be himself. “Woe to anyone who tries to distract him with smiles or invitations to lightheartedness: you make an enemy of him. And it takes little for him to make you an enemy.”

Kenan Yildiz as the new Totti

In closing, Dotto suggests a fascinating parallel: in his new adventure, Kenan Yildiz could become for Spalletti what Francesco Totti was during his time at Roma. “He will be his Totti of today and tomorrow, in the best possible version.” A promise and a challenge together: the idea that Spalletti, even after so much pain, can still seek a new symbol to believe in.

A man who lives in extremes

Luciano Spalletti remains an enigma of Italian football: a philosopher warrior, a restless perfectionist, a samurai who fights not to win, but to feel alive. He does not know the superficial joy of success, but the deep tension of one who seeks meaning in every battle. And perhaps this is precisely what makes him unique: a man who strips himself of everything, even happiness, in order to remain authentic.

This article was translated into English by Artificial Intelligence. You can read the original version in 🇮🇹 here.