The Football Tragic

Nando Martellini was, of course, most famous as a football commentator. He provided commentary for other sports as well, notably cycling, and in his early days he reported on politics too. But why does he have a moderately substantial entry on IMDB?

With his unmistakable voice and his popularity in the football world and beyond, Martellini was a very frequent cameo guest in films, even early in his career. His deadpan delivery often proved a good fit for comedy; one of his earliest and most lengthy film appearances was in the typically Italian screwball comedy The Twelve-Handed Men of Mars, in which a penalty for Santos in an exhibition game against Lazio turns to farce thanks to the Martian in the crowd. On a less frivolous note, he also lent his voice to the Italian version of the excellent film of the 1966 World Cup, bringing to Italian ears the stylish narration penned by his friend Brian Glanville.

In 1984, he appeared in what one might call the "calciosploitation" film The Coach in a Muddle, which features a clueless journeyman coach suddenly catapulted into Serie A. The film was designed to capitalise on the enormous popularity of the game in Italy following the 1982 World Cup triumph, and featured cameos from a number of players past and present, including Carlo Ancelotti, Francisco Graziani and the venerable Nils Liedholm. But there was a lovely tribute paid to Martellini just after his brief on-screen appearance: the hapless coach's team has just conceded their third goal, and he complains to his assistant, "And it's three! And it's three!" - Martellini's well-known call on the occasion of Italy's third goal, and imminent third world title, in the 1982 World Cup final.

Perhaps the most delightful Martellini cameo of all was in the Italian version of the French animated series Zoo Olympics, which was released to coincide with the Olympic Games in Barcelona in 1992. Martellini played the role of the snake commentator, named Nando Serpentini (of course), giving the viewers a play-by-play account of the animals' various maladroit athletic contests. What could be more Martellini-esque than keeping a straight voice while introducing the Italian pig fencing champion Prosciutto Parmigiano?

Martellini gradually wound down his broadcasting commitments following his health scare in Mexico in 1986, but remained a popular guest on football talk shows. He was happy to spend most of his declining days in the company of his beloved wife Gianna - formerly the secretary of his first radio boss, Vittorio Veltroni - and his children and grandchildren. His daughter Simonetta proved a chip off the old block, becoming a respected volleyball commentator on Italian radio.

Nando Martellini passed away in 2004, aged 82. His funeral was attended by a who's who of not just Italian sport, but Italian politics and entertainment as well. If you visit the Terme di Caracalla region of Rome today, you can find an athletics track which was originally used as a training ground during the 1960 Rome Olympics. It is known as the Nando Martellini Stadium.

# posted by Mike Salter @ 9:52 AM 0 comments

In the wake of the 1970 World Cup, Nando Martellini succeeded his much-admired colleague Nicolò Carosio as the undisputed voice of Italian football. His was the commentary that accompanied the azzurri's fortunes from then on, from the promise of the early seventies through the lean period in the middle of that decade, as the generation of Riva, Rivera, Mazzola and Facchetti came to a close. Then into the Enzo Bearzot era, with a new crop of young players promising much but falling at the penultimate hurdle in 1978, and disappointing their home fans in the 1980 Nations Cup.

Martellini's bread and butter, of course, was the domestic game and the Italian clubs' forays into Europe, and his commentary in these matches was just as steady, informed, witty and memorable.

Before we get to the triumph of the 1982 World Cup, it's worth quoting a few of the dry witticisms for which Martellini was so well-known. Delivered with barely a quiver in the voice to distinguish the remarks from the ongoing, unfailingly accurate play-by-play, they must have made the viewers doubt their own ears at times. But, as a colleague put it, Martellini always knew what he was doing.

In 1973, in a friendly against Brazil in Rome, Fabio Capello scored the second goal in a 2-0 win for the Italians. The replay showed, however, that the ball had struck the bar and landed well over a foot outside the goalmouth. Martellini: "As you can see from the replay, the goal was not an entirely obvious one."

1978. A Coppa Italia match between Inter and Monza, in which the Inter midfielder Giuseppe Pavone (the surname means "peacock") was replaced by the veteran Claudio Merlo (whose surname means "blackbird"). Martellini: "And Pavone goes off, Merlo comes on. Inter's ornithological situation remains unchanged."

Also 1978. Juventus are struggling to overcome the naggingly effective offside trap of the Belgian side Bruges in the European Cup semi-final. The bianconeri have already been caught offside countless times, and when the Belgians surge forward again and the whistle goes, Martellini has his comment ready. "Offside. Just for a change."

It was the 1982 World Cup, and the final in particular, that turned Martellini from a beloved figure into something of an icon. He had called Italy's games in the first round of the tournament with gently veiled frustration, declaring after the plodding draw with Cameroon that the Italian performances in the second half of the games had been "questionable". It was a regular gripe of Martellini's; after their loss in a Nations Cup qualifier to Holland in late 1974, Martellini pointedly remarked that Italy had only shown "45 minutes' worth of heart and legs".

That was all to change in the second half of the tournament, when Italy suddenly came to life. Beating first Argentina, Maradona and all, then the dazzling Brazilian side, then a surprisingly listless Poland in the semi-final, Italy reached the final against West Germany in Madrid against all predictions.

Martellini began his call of the final by acknowledging that he was in a state of "great emotion", and his commentary was certainly a little more charged than usual. The play-by-play was as accurate and comprehensive as ever. But the pain was quite evident in his voice when Antonio Cabrini sent Italy's first-half penalty wide of the post. 

This time, ironically, it was in the second half that Italy took hold of the game. Paolo Rossi scored another of his poacher's goals; Marco Tardelli lunged to whack a cross-shot past Toni Schumacher, before wheeling away in a famous celebration. And Sandro Altobelli scored on a breakaway to make it...three. More on that in a moment.

At the conclusion of the game, Martellini simply cried "World Champions!" three times. But, as always, he knew what he was doing. It was Italy's third conquest of the World Cup (as he reminded the viewers straight afterwards). Three times World Champions.

Personally, I think that there was even more to it than that. When Altobelli slotted the ball past Schumacher on 81 minutes, the game was clearly beyond the Germans. Martellini could have commemorated the goal in many ways, but he chose to exclaim, "And it's three! And it's three!" Three goals...or three World Cups? I believe the ambiguity was quite deliberate.

What followed his initial celebratory proclamation of Italy's third world crown was pure Martellini. In perfectly rounded phrases, he praised the qualities of every Italian player, explaining why they were worthy of being a world champion. He even included the bit-part players, noting their achievements. He saved his best for the 40-year-old keeper, Dino Zoff; "I don't know whether we should admire him more as a champion or as a man."

It was a long-awaited triumph for Italian football, and the culmination of a wonderful career behind the microphone for Martellini. Perhaps fittingly, it was his last World Cup. At 64, he was all set for duty in Mexico in 1986, but he fell very ill with altitude sickness just prior to the event, and had to head home. He stuck to the domestic scene from then on. But his place in the hearts of Italian fans was never lost.

And that same popularity had an interesting side-effect. More in Part 4.

# posted by Mike Salter @ 9:08 AM 0 comments

For Italians, it is still the partita del secolo. The Germans call it the Jahrhundertspiel. In the Azteca Stadium in Mexico City, where the game was played, there is a plaque commemorating the partido del siglo. All of these phrases mean the same thing: Match of the Century. The semi-final of the 1970 World Cup, between Italy and West Germany. A game whose frantic, incident-packed extra time period provided one of the most memorable periods of footballing drama ever seen.

It was a match which certainly demanded grace under pressure from the commentators. And Nando Martellini, who wasn't even supposed to be calling the Italy matches at the 1970 tournament, offered that...and then some.

The legendary status of the game somewhat obscures the fact that, for long periods, the football wasn't all that great. After Roberto Boninsegna's early (and somewhat fortunate) goal, Italy fell back in typical catenaccio style, seeking to wait out the ninety minutes. Dangerous indulgence against a German side with many fine attackers. But for a long time the strategy appeared to be working. The tight marking of the veteran defender Tarcisio Burgnich was keeping the prolific Gerd Muller quiet, and the other Italian defenders were at their best as well; Roberto Rosato's magnificent acrobatic clearance from the goal-line in the second half was indicative of the Italian determination to keep the sheet clean.

And Martellini? Apart from his usual crystal-clear, deadpan play-by-play commentary, he was anxiously counting down the minutes, as much for his own benefit as the viewers', in the second half. Not 70 minutes gone: 20 minutes to go. Never hiding his partiality despite his (relative) objectivity, Martellini trod the fine line between commentator and fan expertly.

Martellini's countdown began to consist of smaller units of time ("53 seconds until the end!"). Italy were still 1-0 ahead. But then the clock ticked over to 90 minutes...and the game went on. Added time in those days was a rarity. Now slipping gently over the line into fandom, Martellini reminded viewers regularly of the amount of time that had been added. Amazingly, however, he continued to narrate the play-by-play impeccably.

When nearly two minutes of added time had elapsed, the veteran German defender Karlheinz Schnellinger popped up in the Italian box to drive home the equaliser.

A moment of fury for Italian fans everywhere...and for Martellini. Despite his continued calm delivery, his anger was well and truly manifest in the lead-up to extra time. He harped on the theme of the added time, he insinuated injustice, he subtly excoriated the Mexican referee Arturo Yamasaki (who had in fact refereed appallingly). But extra time it was to be.

Despite his evident cold fury and the waves of drama over the next 30 minutes, Martellini kept his nerve. "Muller has scored. Germany ahead." "Equaliser from Burgnich! A payback for Schnellinger's goal (i.e. coming from a defender)." "Riva! 3-2! A dramatic and unbelievable match." "Seeler has equalised. 3-3." (Actually it was Muller - but his small deflection from Uwe Seeler's magnificent header was difficult to spot in real time.) "Rivera - 4-3! Goal from Rivera! What a marvellous game, Italian viewers." And then, a phrase which became legendary: "We will never be able to give sufficient thanks to our players for the emotions they are providing us with."

When the final whistle sounded, Martellini again had just the right summary, after twenty years of Italian frustration in football's showpiece tournament. "Italian viewers, after two hours of suffering and joy, we can finally announce to you: Italy is in the final of the World Cup."

Martellini, of course, called the final as well, which ended in a heavy defeat for the azzurri. But as he was quick to point out in his astute, reasoned summary at the end, they had resisted well until twenty minutes into the second half. Brazil, he said, had certainly deserved it - but he pointed out that some of their players were not able to frolic as they had in previous rounds, until the Italians ran out of steam in the second half. I think he was quite right.

Italy would have to wait twelve years before another appearance in the final - one which would exorcise all the demons of the past, and provide Martellini with his most iconic moment of all behind the microphone. More in Part 3.

# posted by Mike Salter @ 9:06 AM 0 comments

The English-speaking world has been blessed with some splendid television commentators over the years, and some less-than-splendid ones in more recent times. The voices of John Motson, Brian Moore, Barry Davies and others still conjure up plenty of memories for those of us who grew up watching English football in the 1980s; the polished BBC voice of Kenneth Wolstenholme does the same for those whose football journey started somewhat earlier. But none of these really became a national icon as a result of their off-the-cuff chronicling of the fortunes of their national team. Unlike probably the finest TV football commentator of them all: Nando Martellini. (Absurdly, he isn't accorded a Wikipedia entry in English, and perhaps this series of posts might encourage someone to remedy that defect).

I have been known to joke to football friends that it is worth learning Italian if only to enjoy Martellini's legendary commentary on memorable football matches of days past. At once warm and level-headed, dignified and witty, shrewd and modest, Martellini set a standard which has, in my view, never been reached since.

Although his coverage of everything, and I mean everything, that was happening on the field was admirably comprehensive, he never appeared either rushed or fussy. He could produce several minutes of steady, utterly factual and objective commentary before coming out with one of the countless tongue-in-cheek bons mots with which he sprinkled his calls. Not that these were delivered with any smugness or pride; Martellini, like Richie Benaud, raised deadpan to an art form.

And although his beautifully-phrased delivery (my Italian is far from excellent, but I never have any trouble understanding Martellini) bore the stamp of an old-style education, he never affected the slight schoolmasterish pomposity of a Kenneth Wolstenholme. Martellini always treated his viewers as equals, not students.

Fernando Martellini was born in the village of Priverno, an hour's drive south-east of Rome, in 1921. Coming of age in Italian football's pre-war glory days, his lifelong love of the game was assured. Although he originally studied to be an agronomist at Perugia University, becoming a lifelong Perugia fan in the process, he switched to journalism towards the end of the war, and was taken on by the Italian public radio broadcaster (later RAI) in 1944. He was initially assigned to foreign affairs, and rose quickly through the ranks. But he eventually became involved with his beloved calcio.

He was first assigned to football commentary by the director of radio, Vittorio Veltroni, in the late 1950s. By the mid-1960s, as Italian club football reached its apogee, he was a seasoned radio commentator and was gaining experience in television as well. Commentary was only one of his roles; a regular presenter, he once had the rare opportunity to interview a frail but still forthright Vittorio Pozzo, the architect of Italy's two pre-war World Cup victories.

Although he later owed much of his fame to his commentary on Italy's most memorable World Cup matches - much more on that later - Martellini's first major "international" assignment was Italy's somewhat laboured victory in the 1968 Nations Cup. Come the 1970 World Cup, however, the commentary was once again entrusted to the legendary Nicolò Carosio, whose career in broadcasting stretched back to those glory days of the 1930s. The donnish Carosio was the undisputed, and much-respected, father figure of Italian football commentary. But an obscure incident gave Martellini the chance to call perhaps the most unforgettable match that the azzurri ever played.

In Italy's frustrating 0-0 draw against Israel from the first round of the 1970 World Cup, Carosio opined forcefully (and rightly) that Luigi Riva had been denied a clear goal by a poor call from the Ethiopian linesman, Sajum Tarekegn. Unfortunately, Carosio was later accused of having used a racially-loaded epithet to describe Tarekegn in a conversation the next day, and a diplomatic row ensued. Later, it was determined that Carosio was quite innocent of this "charge", but the damage had been done, and Martellini was behind the microphone as Italy faced West Germany in the semi-final at the Azteca Stadium.

It was to be quite an afternoon. More in Part 2.

# posted by Mike Salter @ 2:36 PM 0 comments