Friday, January 09, 2026
And It's Three, Part 1
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, his future father-in-law 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.
