One was a goalkeeper for a winning AC Milan team. The son, formerly in the same role, for one day wore the shirt that made him famous and earned him the nickname Black Spider. “Dad was a gentleman”
Diving. In grip. Flying from one goal post to another on the lawn of the Arena Civica, a temple of Milanese football in the 1940s located right in the center of the city. Dressed in black, all in black, like his father Fabio, who due to the color of his uniform, and after a match against United in Manchester in which he had taken everything and more, had been renamed the Black Spider. On Monday 20th Fabio Cudicini – AC Milan goalkeeper between ’67 and ’72, Scudetto, 2 Italian Cups and all the international trophies won with the Rossoneri – would have turned 90. However, he passed away on January 8th, and Milan wanted to pay homage to his memory by dressing his son Carlo, himself a former goalkeeper, for one day with a replica of the shirt that contributed to his father’s entry into history. That shirt will be on sale in the stores and on the club’s website, available to nostalgic fans and those who were not lucky enough to witness, live or on television, the exploits of that number one (at the time the goalkeeper wore nothing else on his back) who was so tall – 191 centimeters – for his time.
Carlo, what was your first thought when wearing that shirt?
“The first thought obviously went to my father. Immediately afterwards I mentally thanked a club, Milan, which has given so much to my family, because I too grew up with the Rossoneri and all the Cudicini fans support Milan. My father stopped playing a year before I was born, in ’73, so, from a footballing point of view, I only know him from having seen him in old films. But, if I missed his successes footballer, I was able to live and be proud of those who, as a person, he had off the pitch, where he was always considered a gentleman.”
“Because in the eyes of others he was humble, respectful, calm, available. And then he was very tall, elegant in an impeccable way… He seemed surrounded by an aura, by a sort of energy… He exuded a kind of quiet authority. This is what he transmitted to those around him and what the others witnessed to me as a child. He was considered a legend by Milan fans, and it’s not a term I use just to say.”
Did holding the hand of such a large man make her feel protected?
“Yes, but I was also a little intimidated by it. We’re talking about times in which the traditional family was made up of a working father – mine, after football, had opened a carpet and floor covering company – and a mother who took care of the house and the children. In short, I didn’t have my father with me very much, but today I understand how much time he actually dedicated to me. For example, every weekend, when he accompanied me to the match I would play on the football fields lost in the Milanese hinterland. I remember the car journeys, the opinions and emotions we exchanged before and after. It was a time all for us. My father was always there, but he never entered into the relationship between me and my coaches, even though he had the qualifications to do so.”
What advice did you repeat most often?
“That of listening to the coach, precisely, and working hard, always. He was right: it was precisely thanks to work that I was able to go beyond my technical limits. It is a lesson that I pass on today to the young people at Chelsea, where I manage the department that ‘designs’ the path of the Academy kids, both those within the club and those on loan.”
Instead, the praise and reproach that dad gave her most often?
“It’s difficult for me to talk about praise because we’re not a very outgoing family, let’s say. He certainly appreciated my desire to never give up, to get up despite the many serious injuries that have plagued my career. As for reproaches, I would rather say it was advice, even in this case, expressed however with more firmness than usual. It was ’93, Milan had given me on loan to Como. Things had started quite well, then a a wrist injury had started an ordeal that lasted a year and a half between one surgery and another. I had played 5-6 games in precarious conditions and my performances had suffered as a result. The fact is that one Sunday, as I was walking out of the stadium, the fans started insulting me. My father was with me. I wanted to stop and reply, he took me by the arm and said forcefully: ‘Keep walking, don’t turn around, go. That day I learned that it’s best to count to ten before responding or reacting. More than a reproach, I would therefore speak of a life lesson.”
When he was a child, did Fabio tell you about his football exploits, or did she ask him to do it?
“I didn’t insist enough. I started asking questions later, it’s a bit of my remorse, and they were questions relating above all to the difficult moments of his career, because when you win it’s easier to talk. So I learned about the problems he had had in Brescia, in Udine, even in Rome, where once he had even been half arrested…”.
Incredible. With a father like that, was his destiny as a goalkeeper already written?
“No, not at all. It happened in the fifth grade. I organized a 7-a-side tournament together with others and on the day of the first match, while everyone was choosing the shirts, I remained busy until the end with, let’s say, bureaucratic issues. When I looked out of the basket to take a shirt, I saw that only the goalkeeper’s one was left. I don’t remember if some classmates or parents said to me: ‘Okay, with the last name you have, if at least you have something taken from your father, you must not be so bad’. I said, ‘Okay, no problem.’ It ended in disaster, in the sense that we finished last. Yet, the team that had won the tournament contacted my father to come and play, I don’t know if because all in all I had achieved my goal or because the coach had thought the same way as the others about the surname. It was the San Giuseppe, Oratorian squad: I start at 7, move on to 11, and at that point legend has it that, still my father, he received a phone call from Inter, inviting me to an audition”.
“In the family we only see Rossoneri, so Milan called: ‘Look, I should bring my son to do a trial with Inter…’ and on the other end they replied: ‘No, no, bring him here first’. My adventure in great football started like this.”
Reviewing the videotapes with Cudicini senior’s saves, did it come naturally to you to make comparisons between your respective styles?
“Physically we were two different goalkeepers because dad was much taller than me, so maybe reactivity wasn’t really his strong point, but obviously he ‘covered’ the goal and the high balls were his. I, being shorter, was more agile.”
Despite the fact that we are talking about eras that are very distant from each other, is there a goalkeeper today who remembers him in some way?
“It’s difficult to say. In my time, at Milan there was Sebastiano Rossi who reminded me a lot of dad, tall and thin as he was.”
Who are the three best around now?
“I’ll definitely put Donnarumma on it, and not just because he’s Italian. Alisson is certainly another goalkeeper who has shown consistency over the years and, for a goalkeeper, consistency is fundamental. And then Maignan, and not for anything of the heart: last year he went through a couple of months of crisis, but you always know what he guarantees you, and reliability is a fundamental requirement.”
Why is the Italian goalkeeping school considered the best in Europe?
“We were the first to have great goalkeeping coaches. We understood the importance of the role and consequently we were 5 years ahead of everyone, then someone started to come after us, see Spain. The English, on the other hand, have always lagged behind. After 26 years of living here, I’m still amazed by the fact that they can’t produce a top three goalkeeper in the world.”
In football, however, they are ahead of us in everything else: is it just a matter of money?
“The basis is the work of the last ten years that the federation has done on the youth sectors. This is certified by the results achieved by the Under 18s and Under 21s. Our youth teams also achieve good results, but then too often many of our boys are not allowed the passage into high-level football. I don’t know if it’s a lack of courage, but it is a fact that we are unable to produce creative players like Del Piero and Totti were. Returning to the English, what they have to work on are the coaches: in the Premier League there are still few indigenous coaches. Do we play with more pace and intensity here? True, but each country has its own culture and footballing style. We pay more attention to tactics and it would be wrong, perhaps dangerous, to want to imitate the English at all costs.”
Would you return to work in Italy?
“I have an 11-year-old daughter who lives in London, for me the most important thing is to stay close to her. And I’m lucky enough to work in one of the most important clubs in the world and in the most beautiful league. But if Milan called me it would be difficult to say no.”
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