Professional footballers are often derided for a whole host of sins: they’re overpaid, selfish, and disloyal. They’re cynical and often accused of play-acting. And, often, these criticisms may have some truth to them. But there are so many positive attributes footballers possess and exhibit. They can be loyal, passionate, single-minded, determined, hardworking, and competitive in the most positive way imaginable. They can show true grit.
If there was ever a footballer who personified these positive qualities, it must be ‘Super Pippo’—Pippo Inzaghi. The cliché is that he was poor and perpetually offside. But a World Cup, three Serie A titles, two Champions League trophies, and 288 career goals suggest he had a lot more to his game than the often-British stereotypes that were used to deride him.
Pippo was a player totally absorbed in goal-scoring. I can’t think of another player more synonymous with goals and celebrations than the lithe Piacenzan. He was a player of his era, a now-extinct breed. He was a fully-fledged No. 9—nothing false about it. He didn’t drop deep, link play, or drift wide. Perhaps his technique was lacking at times, but it didn’t matter. He was there to score—and score he did. Scuffs, headers, ricochets, free-kicks, tap-ins, deflections—they all counted, for him and the teams he played for.
It’s rare that a player’s career, or their entire way of being on the pitch, can be encapsulated in one goal. But for Inzaghi, it came in the 2007 Champions League final against Liverpool. Pippo scored twice that game, and the second—Kaka threading a ball through to Pippo to slot home—was very much Pippo. The perfect run at the perfect time. But the first goal? That was Pippo distilled into a single moment. You can probably picture it: Andrea Pirlo, the antithesis of Inzaghi as a player, laser-focused on the ball prior to a free-kick. He strikes it, it seems to hit the wall, but it ends up in the net with Inzaghi wheeling away in delight. Did it hit his hand? His hip? Was it a set move or even intentional? As Inzaghi celebrated ecstatically under the Athenian night sky, it didn’t matter. 2-1 to AC Milan, and they were European champions. It was the Inzaghi final.
Those goals were also the highlight of a long, loving, and productive relationship with AC Milan. But it’s easy to forget that Filippo wasn’t always synonymous with the Rossoneri. After an unproductive spell at Parma, he exploded into life during one season at Atalanta before moving to Juventus. Del Piero, Zidane, and Inzaghi formed a great front three initially, but by 2001, the goals weren’t flowing as freely for Inzaghi. His move to Milan wasn’t guaranteed to be a success.
Berlusconi’s Milan was always packed with stars, particularly in attack. They were often flashy, technical, and skillful—names like Rui Costa, Rivaldo, Kaka, Shevchenko, Ronaldinho, Crespo, Ronaldo. But while these players were admired (and, in Kaka and Sheva’s case, loved), Inzaghi was always the most adored by the San Siro crowd. He benefited hugely from Milan playing with two strikers: Sheva and Kaka were hard to stop, and Inzaghi, full of industry, enthusiasm, and commitment, could always feed off the errors and space that defenders afforded him.
This adoration was fully evident in his last ever professional goal, scored against Novara in 2012. It marked the end of Milan’s golden age, with so many of the old stars bowing out at once—Nesta, Gattuso, and Seedorf moving on, while Kaka and Sheva had already left. Yet Pippo, often a super-sub in his final years, was the emotional fulcrum. Chesting down a typically precise and elegant lofted pass from Seedorf, he swivelled and took the shot. It was a fluid, deadly movement, showcasing how he came alive close to goal. As the San Siro erupted with joy as the ball hit the net, Inzaghi reacted in typical Inzaghi fashion—wild, happy, and excited. And then it seemed to hit him—and everyone else. This was the last goal, the last celebration.
So, the next time modern football leaves you or others in despair, think back to the unlikely figure who reflected everything that can really be beautiful about the game.
Beautifully written and so absolutely true.
Pippo is a role model, wish players nowadays had his heart and passion for the game. Yes, he lacked the flashy skills but he more than made up for it with placement, movement off the ball and sheer love for scoring goals.
Anyone who goes with the clichés about him doesn’t understand the game of football.