The Decibel - Pitch and Power: Italian agony, psychology of the penalty kick

Episode Date: July 12, 2026

In the heat of USA ’94, Roberto Baggio carried the nation of Italy on his shoulders— and then saw it all slip away from twelve yards. This episode explores one of soccer’s most spellbinding talents and the penalty kick that turned his decorated legacy into a lingering question mark. But this isn’t only about one miss.  Host Eoin O’Callaghan and guests John Foot, Ben Lyttleton and Kevin Kilbane explore the strange hold penalty kicks have, and why that ritual reveals so much about pressure, identity, and the human condition. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Hey, it's Cheryl. The World Cup is heading into its final stages and what a tournament it's been. If you're anything like me, you've caught football or soccer fever. From the great run Canada had, making it to a knockout round for the first time in history, to all the drama playing out on the pitch. I can't get enough of the amazing goals and legacies being written right now. I wanted to highlight one of the Globe and Mail's new podcasts. Pitch and Power, how soccer shapes everything. Every Thursday, this podcast dies into what the sport means in politics, culture, and history. Owen O'Callaghan interviews writers, players, and witnesses to the World Cup, about the triumph, joy,

and sometimes devastation of the beautiful game. This episode today is about the pressure cooker of penalty kicks, how 12 simple yards can be the most daunting reality for the greatest soccer players in the world. Catch Pitch and Power, how soccer shapes everything. Every Thursday on the Globe and Mail and wherever you listen to podcasts. Hope you enjoy it. In the sizzling California heat, it's past 3pm local time, the most intense, unrelenting and unforgiving environment.

Our warrior in a blue shirt and white shorts walk slowly to the far end. of the colossal roseball amphitheater. In his right hand, he carries a ball. Dotted around him, 94,000 fans wait in anticipation. As he walks, his mind drifts. Back to Vicenza and the third division in Italy. Of that day, 10 years earlier, when he was 16 and scored his first ever professional goal, a penalty.

Then to Fiorentina and the adoration the adulation that turns sour. Then that World Cup summer that brought joy but ended in bitter defeat. But this one would be different. The man is at his peak. He has carried his team on his back, dragging them to the cusp of greatness.

Despite the heavy black strapping on his right leg, he is unafraid. He is ready. He reaches the spot and crouches down to place the ball meticulously, adjusting its lie until he's satisfied. It's been 12 long years since an Italian World Cup trophy. Disappointment, disaster and tragedy in between.

But this time, this time would be different. The man stands, glances towards the goal in front of him and then takes 12 small steps backwards until he's just outside the penalty area. The referee's whistle blows, and he begins his run. The pressure is on him. He has to make it. I'm Owen O'Kalahan, and this is pitch and power, how soccer shapes everything from the Globe and Mail. Today we're telling the story of Roberto Baggio and a missed penalty in the 1994 World Cup final.

The miss he has never escaped from the miss that has defined his entire life. Despite a successful career in his status as a genuine soccer legend, it's the miss that saw him described as the man who died standing. But this story goes beyond Baggio too, as we try to understand the perverse fascination with penalty kicks, the psychology of that high-pressure moment when everyone is watching. This is about mentality, fragility, vulnerability, and how World Cup penalties explain the human condition.

That's coming up after the break. Defender 110, one vehicle, every possibility, with a rugged body design ready for your next journey and purposeful durable materials throughout. Defender 110 is built to handle it all without compromise. From weekday streets to weekend escapes, it's built to do it all. Defender 110, Embrace the Impossible. Learn more at landrover.com.

When you close your eyes and think of Italy, what do you see? Is it the Venetian gondolans, the Amalfi Coast, maybe the decadence and designer stores of Milan? Or maybe it's tossing a coin and making a wish at the Trevi Fountain? For me, I see two things. Soccer and opera. There's the famous story by Claudio Monteverdi about Orpheus, the great, musician. Our protagonist is newly married and filled with the joys of life, until he suffers heartbreak when his wife, Eurydice, suddenly dies. He travels to the underworld to persuade its

ruler Hades to bring her back to life. Armed with his trusty liar, a stringed instrument, everyone he meets is spellbound by his mercurial musical talent, and Hades agrees to help, arranging for Euridacy to follow behind him on their journey back home. But Hades, forbids Orpheus from turning around. If he does, the deal is over. So Orpheus leads the way, but just as the couple are about to leave the underworld, just as the happy ending is upon us, he can't hear her voice anymore. Anxious, stressed and overwhelmed, Orpheus turns, and Eurydice is lost to the underworld forever. So a nice and uplifting start to this podcast episode. But stay with me.

If Orpheus captivated everyone with his music, Roberto Baggio did likewise with a ball. And their respective stories both carry a tragic finale. In fact, the Baggio tale could be a compelling opera of its own. After all, with its drama, plot points and conveyor belt of crazy and colorful characters, Italian soccer is pretty much a daytime soap opera at the best of times. And you know, that's why Italian sport and... football provides so much extraordinary material. That melodrama, I think, is the best way of describing it. It's really a good way of understanding a lot of what's going on.

This is John Foote, author of the definitive book, Calcio, which explores the history of Italian soccer. At the start of John's book, he makes a big and bold statement. You can't understand Italy without football, and you can't understand football without understanding Italy. It's important to the culture, to the identity of Italians, so the everyday discussions and language is so central that I think it kind of, all historians need to kind of confront it. Now, with four World Cup triumphs under their belts, Italy is one behind Brazil in the role of honour.

But it should really be Italy out in front, because in 1994, they should have been crowned champions. But then, in true opera style, there was no happy ending. So the scene is said, it's Italy against Argentina, the World Cup semifinal, the first semi-final of Italia 90. To fully understand the heartbreak of 1994, we need to go back four years to Italia 90, a World Cup played on home soil that transformed Italy from contenders into beloved romantics of the game. There, amid roaring stadiums and feverish expectation, the Azuri showcased the class of Franco Borresi,

the youth of Paola Maldini, the artful creativity of Giuseppe Giannini, and the potential of Roberto Baggio. Then just 23 years old, Baggio had spent the previous five seasons at Sidiya A Club Fiorentina. Throughout his tenure in Florence, he became infamous for his gliding, slalom runs through the midfield and free kids. that bent like calligraphy, usually to the top corner. He scored in bursts and had dragged a good viola side to big stages, like the 1990 Uafer Cup, where they lost in the final to league heavyweights, Juventus. Fulentina is a big squad, but it's not one of the top ones,

and he's the star of Feroentina. I mean, that fans absolutely love him. So, it seemed especially cruel when on the eve of Italian 90, it was announced that Baggio would leave Fiorantina for Juve on a world record transfer. Which is the strongest, biggest, super team, most loved, most hated. And that's a very controversial moment. Of course, riots in the streets, literally a big betrayal. And I think he found that difficult.

For all the hype, Italian 90 was relatively underwhelming by Baggio's standards. He started the tournament on the bench, never fully became. the team's focal point and finished with just two goals in a home tournament built for a coronation. Instead, it's a complete unknown who overshadows him. The romantic nature of the Italian team at that tournament is exemplified by the story of Salvatore Toto Skilachi. Coming off the bench in scoring in the first game, Skilachi ended up as the player of the tournament and golden boot winner for most goals.

Don't wake me up, he told reporters. Let me enjoy the dream. So as Skilachi owns the spotlight, Baggio is in the team sometimes and out of the team sometimes, but does conjure a spectacular World Cup goal along the way. If you had two memories about that World Cup, one would be Skilachi and one would be Badgio's goal

against Czechos of Akia. And, you know, you could watch it 100 times and still not get tired of it. And again, it's a very unusual goal. I think it's, no one seems to just, he kind of like drifts through, like he's got some sort of force field amongst, no one seems to tackle him. And I think everyone goes mad in Italy. This is the first home tournament since 1934.

You know, it's the first non-fascist World Cup home tournament for Italy. They built the stadiums. Italy is booming. The economy is doing very well. That's important. It's kind of very sure of itself, Italy, in that point. It's huge. You know, that someone doesn't end well for Italy.

It's not bad Joe's fault. Played in Naples at the Stadio San Paulo, the 1990 World Cup semi-final tugged at local loyalties. It was Italy's national team on one side and on the other, the cities adopted idol Diego Maradonna, who had begged Neapolitans to back him and his team instead. Skilachi put Italy ahead in the first half, but Argentina equalized in the second.

Extra time brought tension and a red card for the Argentines, but no winner. And so, to penalties. Baggio shot second for Italy and converted his kick to the bottom left corner. But from that point, things turned Argentina's way. And they advanced four three in the shootout. It's not fury or tomatoes being thrown, which is a classic of Italian World Cup defeat. It's sort of sadness. And there is a kind of up as well

because the tournament's gone well. You know, it's been a success in terms of projecting Italy onto the world. For all its weight in Naples, the finish of the 1990 semi-final was a young ritual. The shootout felt ancient, but really it was barely out of adolescence. Penalties as tiebreakers only entered the game in 1970. So to see a nation's fate decided from 12 yards,

was a relatively new invention. In fact, the first ever shootout at the World Cup had taken place only eight years earlier in Spain. It was West Germany against France, and a place in the final was at stake. It was, as you can probably expect, immensely captivating in many ways. This is the origin story of the shootout

and a key explainer for why we love this stuff so much. And the first player to miss a penalty in this format was a German player called Uli Stilika. This is Ben Littleton, a journalist who has covered soccer for a long time. He's also the author of 12 yards, the art and psychology of the perfect penalty. And Stilker took his penalty and it was saved. And his response to that was quite astonishing

because he fell to the ground, put his hands around his knees and curled up into a ball. almost like a fetal position. So he was reduced to this elemental, sort of babyish, infantile state because of the drama of seeing a penalty saved. So as a watching audience, we're totally hooked. We want more of this. You know who doesn't want more of it?

The players, particularly those who still carry the torturous pain of a missed penalty. What does it feel like, the moment itself? You gather in the center circle with your teammates, arms draped around each other in a show of solidarity. And then it's time. You begin that seemingly endless walk to the penalty spot. What goes through your head? Just how different is it this time? Well, I think the one thing that sticks out in my mind from my own penalty shootout was how confident I was.

Right from the start of camp, more or less every day, we as a group always practice their penalties. That's Kevin Kilban, legendary Republic of Ireland player and Premier League star with the likes of Everton and Sunderland. Since moving to Canada, he's been a soccer analyst with TSM. But once I'd step forward and I'd gone beyond the centre circle, I don't think I ever felt or had a feeling of being alone like that. I did feel a little isolated, I have to say that, I felt a little bit vulnerable. Kevin played at the 2002 World Cup and in a tense knockout round clash with Spain, that went all the way to a shootout saw his effort saved

by legendary keeper Iker Kisius. Spain won and Ireland were out. And I just didn't catch the ball. I didn't catch it the way that I would want it. I didn't catch it clean. It was a fairly tame effort. I had a great height for goalkeeper

just to, or for Kassius, just to dive to his left and make a comfortable save. Pulley struck, not in keeping with everything that I'd done in the buildup to it. And it was probably the pressure from that last 30 or 40-yard walk from outside the center circle to the penalty spot or picking the ball up at the edge of the penalty area that really probably hindered me in the undertaking of that penalty. You can hear in Kevin's voice just how much the experience lingers. I have to admit, yeah, I was free. I was upset. I was in tears after that penalty shoot out. I felt as though I'd let everybody down. It didn't do what I was expected.

to do, but I didn't do what I expected of myself more so, and that was the gut-wrenching thing, I think, from that penalty shootout. But then, as much as it's such a monumental, personal loss to grieve, the moment is not really ever yours. The public takes ownership of your trauma, which makes it so much harder to navigate. And I think over time, yes, of course, you learn to get over it from the emotional aspect, but people never forget. And I think people never forget. And I think people never forget a penalty shootout loss, whereas I think people do forget the penalty shootout wins. It's just a win at the end of it, but a loss is way more painful for the team, manager, coaches, as I was saying, but most of the supporters. And I'm frequently reminded of that penalty

miss. It was something that's affected people's mindset probably of me post-playing. It's something that's always been there. Some people are always drawn to the macabra. You will watch the exorcist at Halloween, usually alone and with all the lights turned off. Why? Because there's that feeling in the pit of your stomach

that brings a rush of excitement. There is a danger, an edge. One guy lives to fight another day. The other one dies. A bit like penalties. It's like a duel, a shootout in a Western movie or something, But there has to be a winner and a loser.

It's a zero-sum game. And often, there has to be a villain as well. It's set a standard of drama and trauma as well, I guess you can say, that has lasted to this day. Drama and trauma. A perfect segue to Roberto Baggio and 1994. It's coming up right after the break. Adventure is better when everyone comes along. Defender 130 is designed for bigger journeys,

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Learn more at least. Land Rover.ca. If penalties are fascinating, so too is the man they called the Divine Ponytail. You can imagine this story as a classic piece of Italian cinema. Maybe it's Federico Fellini who is directing. And just like the character of Guido Anselmi in Eight and a Half, our protagonist is so beloved and misunderstood. Striving for creative perfection, he's an outsider, an individual.

But he is special. When he takes to the stage, when everything works, it's captivating. It's like a different language. But there's also a vulnerability, a brittle nature. And that means there are moments of difficulty. He's very small and slight. He had a lot of terrible injuries when he started, I think, two or three knee operations. He could drift out of games.

He could not be seen for a bit. And then let's not forget the kind of cultural aspect to him. He was a Buddhist in a Catholic country. He had a kind of ponytail. He was often called the divine ponytail. He didn't really look like your classic Italian footballer at all. I mean, a kind of free spirit. Free spirit can also mean tough to manage.

And plenty of managers found Baggio hard to handle. They didn't really not to do with him. And he fell out with quite a lot of managers because he wanted to play where he wanted to play. He didn't really fit into any catacal scheme. So incredibly good technically. A brilliant dribbler had an incredible shot. Free kicks were just extraordinary. I would encourage anyone to go and look at some of his free kicks.

You could put it in the corner like postage stamp it. Brilliant penalty taker as well, and that's ironic. We'll come back to that. Scored an extraordinary amount of goals, over 200 goals in Celia. It's one of the top scorers ever. So from not being a striker, I think, think pretty incredible. In 1994, Italy fancied their chances of lifting the World Cup trophy, and they had good reason

to be confident. Syria A was the best and richest league in the world attracting the best players. Italian teams were incredibly dominant on the continental stage. From the 12 Champions League in UEFA Cup finals since 1989, an Italian club had won eight of them. And overseeing the Italian national team for the upcoming tournament was a regal. Saki, a revolutionary coach who had performed miracles in the lower leagues and was brought to Milan in 1987. With much suspicion owing to the fact that he'd never played professionally, Saki won the league at his first time of asking. And just to rub salt in the wounds of the media, he followed that

up with back-to-back Champions League titles too. That 88, 89-90 Milan team is the best team I've ever seen play football, best football ever seen. But with the national team, Saki fan things a little bit tougher to navigate. And he's taken of a national team. He's trying to, he's very rigid, tactically speaking. You know, he plays a very specific way, which he doesn't change. But he can't make the national team play like that. He really struggles. And that team, you know, was not good to watch. You know that Italian confidence I mentioned earlier?

Well, it evaporated a little bit. at Giant Stadium in New York on June 18, 1994. As O.J. Simpson decided to take his white for Bronco for a little drive across Southern California, there was another event playing out in the US that day, perhaps not as culturally relevant as OJ, but important to our story, because Italy were humiliated in their opening World Cup game. They lost to the Republic of Arnick. And out with a shot, and it's there!

And if we come to the 1994 tournament, you can see that the way the game's played out, it's not Saki and pressing super football that's getting them through, but all kinds of other things. You know, the football is pretty bad. Baggio was famously shackled that afternoon by Paul McGrath, the gifted Aston Villa Centre back, and one of the finest ever Irish players. But if Baggio cheerily thought that it was all uphill from here, he was sadly mistaken. In Italy's second game against Norway,

something strange happens midway through the first half. The Italian goalkeeper, Jan Luca Paluca, is sent off for handling the ball outside of his penalty area. Now that means Arrigo Saki needs to bring on a replacement goalkeeper and has to substitute one of his outfield players. In what can only be described as a jaw-dropping plot twist, in keeping with Italian soccer's soap opera melodrama,

Saki decides the sacrificial lamb will be Roberto Baccio, the best player in the world. And it looks as though Roberto Baggio is the player taken off. What an extraordinary decision to bring on the substitute. Can you imagine a moment

where Pique Lienel Messi would be replaced in a crucial World Cup game after 22 minutes for tactical reasons? And nobody watching, either at the stadium or on their TVs, could quite believe what was happening. Neither could Badgio himself.

After all, this was a public humiliation. And he gets substituted and he takes a drink of water and he spits out a whole load of water onto the side and says an Italian, Saki is mad or this guy is mad. And then this, of course, the Italian press loves this kind of thing. So you've got down a week of what's going on with Saki, what's going on with Badjo in the Italian press. It must be said for those first few games, Badgeo is not good.

The whole team is pretty terrible, to be honest. In opera, someone will usually die at the end. But at the 1994 World Cup, Italy were about to croak it before they even reached the intermission. A 1-1 draw in their final group game against Mexico meant they suffered the ignominy of finishing third, only making it to the knockout round because they'd scored one more goal than Norway. who were eliminated. Drawn to face the energetic and vibrant Nigeria in the round of 16, Manny feared the fat lady was beginning to clear her throat.

And going by the first 89 minutes of the game, the Italian team felt that way too. And it's going to be tomatoes, you know, at the airport, if they're lucky. And I remember that game because I loved Badger's so much. And I really wanted to do well. And I'm thinking, I was sitting there with my friend Roberto, and we're just watching this game.

This is it. This is so bad. This is the worst I've ever seen. Another insipid display, the Nigerian's leading 1-0, only a few minutes left. Then, our complicated protagonist, on the periphery for so long, finally stepped out of the shadows. And what followed was spelled by name. This goal comes from nowhere and everything changes. in that World Cup, that goal that Badgeau scores, which is a little scuffed shot that barely makes it over the line. It's equalising and that's it.

Then Badger just is transformed from that point. And it must have been a confidence thing, but he becomes just the best player in the tournament. Badgeo's first goal of the World Cup is followed by his second in extra time. And Italy, somehow, are into the quarterfinals. There against the tough and uncompromising Spain, the game is heading for extra time once again, only for Baggio to conjure another magic trick, this time in the 88th minute. Nonchalantly, rounding the Spanish goalkeeper Andoni Zubisretta, he tucks the ball to the net,

before blowing kisses to the crowd. Two-one to Italy, and now they're into the final four, with our protagonist admired and adorned, just the way it's supposed to be. Some could argue that the real tragedy for Roberto Baggio in 1994 wasn't the missed penalty in the final, but a seemingly innocuous moment after 67 minutes of the semi-final against Bulgaria. Badgeau had scored twice in the first 25 minutes, five World Cup goals in just three games.

But as he looked to turn sharply in the penalty area, he pulled up in obvious discomfort. Clutching his hamstring, he grimaced. and gritted his teeth. With echoes of that earlier humiliation against Norway, he was immediately substituted, but this time, warmly embraced by a concerned Saki on the touchline,

how the tide had turned. Bajou was now Saki's golden ticket having pulled Italy from the brink of national disaster. Italy held on to book their place in the final with a two-one win. It would be Brazil in the big showdown at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, but as full-time euphoria erupted, Baggio began to cry. Embraced by the coaching staff,

everyone presumed it was happy tears. But with the benefit of hindsight, maybe he knew his World Cup dream was in jeopardy. Here's a weird one, and I tell it because Baggio is the only World Cup player this kind of thing could ever happen to. In 1993, he'd been visited by a group of Buddhist monks. He ended up donating money to the renovation of their local temple in Cox's Bazaar in Bangladesh.

As news began to filter out that Bajio was 50-50 to start the World Cup final because of his hamstring strain, there was hysteria amongst his Bangladeshi brethren. Ahead of the decider, hundreds gathered at the temple to pray for him. We're trying to evoke divine blessings so he can play, said one worshipper. Divine blessings for the divine ponytail. forever different than the rest. To a certain degree, the prayers worked. Baggio did play, but his right leg was heavily strapped

and clearly he was not fit. This was a lesser version, but 50% of Roberto Baggio is 100% of the vast majority, and maybe just maybe, he could conjure something special yet again. A crowd of over 94,000 at the Rose Bowl in Pass. It was a 1994 World Cup final

between Italy and Brazil. It was a poor World Cup final. But of course it was. It was played in searing Pasadena heat at the hottest time of the day. The players were drained. There were some half chances.

Brazil hit the post after a speculative shot was fumbled by Palyuka. Italy occasionally threatened. Baggio's dipping strike from distance was easily tipped over by Claudio Taffarell. but everyone seemed off. Even the gifted Brazilian striker Romario missed an easy chance.

Inevitably, the clock ran down, and it was time after a nil-nill-draw for the dreaded penalty shootout. Italy's shootout started badly and never really improved. You get five kicks, and a good start is imperative. Penalty data tells us that the team kicking first has a 60% win rate. Why? Because if they score, the opponent is constantly chasing them, which increases the pressure. Italy took the first kick, and it was their heroic Captain Franco Berese who stepped up. His performance in the final is often regarded as one of the finest defensive displays in World Cup history.

And then, piercing the romance as usual, so experienced. Oh, and so wasteful, high over the bar from Beresey. He missed his penalty, driving it over the crossbar. Brazil failed to capitalize on Borezi's miss, and they missed their first kick too. So the teams go toe-to-to-toe for a little while. Italy's score, Brazil equalize. Italy score, Brazil equalize. And then Daniela Massaro misses for Italy.

The Brazil captain Dunga scores his kick to put his team in front. And now it's Roberto Bajaro. who's up next. He has to score to keep Italy in this shootout. Here's Ben Littleton again with some incredible insight on why this detail in particular is so crucial in the moment. If you are taking a penalty to avoid defeat, your chances of scoring are much lower. And the reason for that is something called negative valence. There's added pressure on that penalty because you're trying to avoid defeat. So when you step up for it, you're thinking, I mustn't miss this because we're going to lose. So 78% is the average benchmark for converted penalty. It goes up to 92% in a

World Cup if you're taking that penalty to win it. And it drops to 62% if you're taking it to avoid defeat. So that was one factor that Baja had against him. And we see it time and again. It is very stressful if you are taking that penalty to avoid defeat. So that was one factor that Baja had against him. And we see it. And we see it time and again. It is very stressful if you are taking that penalty to avoid defeat. And now huge pressure on the next Italy penalty. And it's Italy's talisman, Roberto Baggio, who must score. But he blazes over the bar. And Brazil sit on top of the world again.

Their fourth World Cup title as they won. He was a goal keeper. Bajio didn't just miss. Just like Borezi, he failed to hit the target, blazing his shot way over the crossbar. But Borezzi was a defender, not used to taking penalties. For a specialist like Baggio, this was a wild attempt, lacking the poise and composure that usually accompanied everything he did. And then there was the shock of it all.

Bajio remained at the penalty spot, put his hands on his hips, and bowed his head. Like Orpheus, turning back to check on his wife, the mistake now lingered in the air, and the magnitude of everything slowly began to take hold. As the Brazilians celebrated around him inside this gargantuan, sprawling behemoth of an arena, Baggio was the loneliest person in the world. This is the moment he died standing. I mean, the image itself is iconic, his hands on his hips,

looking down at the ground while Taffarel is on the edge of the six-yard box, on his knees with his hands, arms up to the sky, celebrating. In Baggio's case, it's not hero and villain. Taffarel didn't make a save to win a World Cup for Brazil. Bajio missed. It's not a shared moment of success and shortcoming. It's entirely Baggio's experience to live. Now, it's worth remembering the kick was just to keep in.

Italy alive in the shootout. In many ways, the Massaro miss is where everything changes direction. But nobody remembers Massaro. Missing a penalty is very different to having a penalty saved. I think in a way, it adds to Baggio's iconography. You know, he's one of the best players that ever played as an Italian, but he didn't win that many trophies. He scored in three World Cups, but Italy lost in penalties in all of them.

I mean, it's an amazing part of his narrative. With the benefit of hindsight, given Bajos injury, the unrelenting nature of the game, the temperature, maybe Saki shouldn't have selected him to take that penalty. Easy to say now,

Bajou had a fantastic penalty record. He was a penalty specialist. He had an 88% conversion record for his penalties in Italian football. So are you really going to not let him take that penalty? Badgio's teammates didn't seem to blame him. They commiserated as a group.

There seemed an understanding that it was a small miracle owing to Baggio's genius that they had even made it that far. Without him, they wouldn't have even been in the final. So this idea that he was the villain of the piece in itself is very nuanced because he wasn't blamed, or criticise so much

and you could see how much it hurt him individually as well so it's a beautiful, complicated, dramatic, poetic penalty that I think sums up everything about the penalty kick and the drama of the shootout

with so many different layers. We're all thinking it, so I had to ask it. What happens if Baggio scores? What happens to Italian soccer and what happens to Baggio himself? I put it to John Foote. Yeah, I mean, how different is Italian football? How different is, yeah, it's completely different.

And I don't remember him ever missing a penalty, missing the goal completely. I mean, you'd have to go and look back at the 60 off penalties he scored. But I remember some get saved, but I think it might be one of the very few. that he actually. So it's so unusual. I thought I was really devastated because I loved him as a player. I thought he'd been brilliantly and he'd been a mate. He'd really carried Italy to that thing and it really wasn't fair that he then becomes the image of defeat at that moment. It was really, you know, the football gods were being very mean at that moment. After losing his wife to the underworld forever, Orpheus is.

the victim of a vicious and fatal attack by a rabid mob who are baying for blood. But Baggio escapes that treatment, sort of. A devout disciple of Buddhism, Baggio's chosen fate believes death is merely the end of the body we inhabit in this life, that the spirit remains and can be reborn. Still, those football gods, as John Foote alluded to earlier, while they hung around a little longer with Roberto Baggio, and he was forced to wait for his rebirth. Just like porcel in China, Baggio was beautiful but delicate,

and when the fall came, the damage was usually quite brutal. After the World Cup, his return to Juventus saw him work with a new coach, Marcelo Lippi, and there was a 19-year-old heir apparent, who everyone was raving about. His name was Alessandro del Piero. So there was pressure, and in a league game against Paddava,

Baggio displayed both his genius, a magnificent free kick to give his team the lead, and his frailty, breaking down with another knee injury in the second half. In the summer of 1995, Baggio was sold to arch-rivals A.C. Milan. Meanwhile, Arrigo Saki banished him from the Italian national team. Baggio returned to where he was strongest,

the edge, the periphery, He signed for lowly Bologna. He cut off his ponytail, and it was a symbolic rebirth. He was immense, scoring 22 goals and earning a recall to the Italy side for the 1998 World Cup. In the opening game against Chile, he rescued his team by equalizing with a penalty. But Italy were eliminated in the quarterfinals, losing to France in yet another shootout. Baggio scored his penalty. but in a remarkable twist of fate, a teammate with practically the same name, Luigi Di Biagio,

missed the crucial kick this time, but nobody remembers him. There is much more pressure on those players that are expected to score goals because they're so brilliant. We've seen Ronaldo miss a shootout in the Euros. We've seen Messi miss a shootout in the Coppa America. We've seen Mbapé miss a penalty for France. in the euros. It can happen. In 2018, Bajio spoke to Soccer magazine 442, and it's fascinating to see how much he discusses his penalty miss, considering the limited format. It's one of those interviews where

the guest finishes a sentence in rapid fire style. So, for example, Baggio has asked three words that sum me up, and he answers, simple, humble and happy. Here are some of his other answers. I was happiest when I took my team to the World Cup final. The day football broke my heart was the World Cup final. I've never told anyone this before, but I still feel bad about that penalty. If I could change one thing about the game, I would get rid of penalty kicks for sure. My one regret is the 70th of July 1994. The missed penalty forever lingers and forever defines the moment so simple and so traumatic. So one of the reason why I love the penalty shootout and the penalty kick is because

it's football reduced to its most basic elemental sense of a ball and a goal and a shooter and a kicker. It's just like we played football when we were kids in the garden or in the park or in the playgrounds. That's all it is. Just the only thing that's changed is the pressure. pressure is ramped up. So it does become a mental battle between the player and the goalkeeper, the kicker and the goalkeeper, but also between the player and himself.

When anyone attends an opera, they don't go to watch the harrowing ending. They go because there's a magnetic story unfolding. There's seduction, there's romance, there's joy, there's brutality, there's ugliness, there's sadness. Ultimately, opera is life. And so is soccer. Baggio's story has several happy endings and several unhappy endings. After the penalty, he continued in much the same way. More deaths, but more rebirths too. Buddhist to the core.

In many ways, penalties explain the human condition. Think of the big decisions in your life. You have this one moment that carries so much significance. Everything around it is temporarily suspended. It comes down to risk versus reward, open versus closed, conservatism versus creativity. Depending on your choice, there are repercussions. And they can hang around for a while.

But does possible success define you? Does the possible setback define you? If Baggio scores that penalty, does it change him? And maybe that's such an inherently flawed way of packaging the legacy of a penalty kick, that there's an eternal winner and loser. Did missing it make Baggio better or worse? Well, look at what came after.

He doesn't crumble, he continues. He challenges himself in new ways. He does great things. Thankfully, humans are a lot more than one moment. There are complexities and impediments and a relentless myriad of decisions to be made every single day. and maybe our fascination of the penalty kick is linked to that. Strip everything away and it's pretty simple.

We're all 12 yards from immortality. But getting that ball in the net is a lot more complicated than it looks. On the next episode of Pitch and Power, a French revolution for the modern soccer age, we delve into Plare Mutiny at the 2010 World Cup and what it said about France's complicated relationship with race. Thanks for listening to Pitchin Power how soccer shapes everything. This show is produced by Jay Coburn and me, Owen O'Kalann.

Our senior producer is Kyle Fulton. Thank you to John Foote, Ben Littleton and Kevin Kilban for their contributions to this episode. If you like the show, please follow us and share it with a soccer fan in your life. This is Defender, push to its most extreme. Introducing Defender Octa, powered by a twin turbo V8 engine, delivering immediate response and extraordinary performance, it's built for those who demand more from every drive.

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