Moreno Torricelli, once a stalwart of Juventus and the Italian national team, has shared a deeply personal and moving account of his life in a recent interview with Gazzetta. His words paint a vivid picture of love, loss, resilience, and the enduring power of family.
Life After Football
When asked if he misses football, Torricelli is candid:
“Playing it, yes. Watching it on TV, less so. Every day there’s a match… it’s become nauseating.”
A New Chapter
During the pandemic, Torricelli found solace in simple, honest work:
“During Covid, I went back to treating wooden balconies. When I needed machines, I’d ask Carlo, a craftsman in Lillianes, the small village of 400 people in Valle d’Aosta where I moved. After the pandemic, he asked me, ‘Look, I’m alone and have a lot of work. Why don’t you come and give me a hand?’ If there’s a window to be installed, I go.”
The Humble Beginnings
Torricelli’s rise from amateur football to the heights of Serie A is the stuff of dreams:
“I got noticed among the amateurs and a manager recommended me to Furino, who was then in charge of Juventus’ youth sector. I was called up for a friendly. I remember nothing except a huge thunderstorm. After the match, Trapattoni stopped me: ‘We have three tests in a week, take some time off work and come to Turin.’ He liked me, I went on tour in Japan, came back, and signed the contract on the hood of a car. I went from earning two million lire to eighty.”
Friendship with Del Piero
Reflecting on his early days at Juventus, Torricelli recalls his bond with Alessandro Del Piero:
“He arrived in Turin a year after me. I’d already read so much about him; he was the new phenomenon of Italian football. We spent a lot of time together, we were the youngest. He’d come to my house to eat, and my wife, a hairdresser, would cut his hair.”
Love and Loss: The Story of Barbara
The heart of Torricelli’s story is his love for his late wife, Barbara:
“I met her when I was 15. She worked with my cousin, and one day they decided to have lunch together. While I was making coffee at my parents’ bar, my uncle came in. ‘Run home, trust me.’ I got on my bike, saw her, and fell in love.”
Barbara’s illness struck suddenly:
“It started just before Christmas. She was always tired, had a persistent low fever. I’d tell her, ‘Soon we’ll go on vacation in the mountains and you’ll feel better.’ But she didn’t improve. We went home, she had blood tests, and was hospitalized immediately. After three weeks of tests, the doctors told me, ‘There’s only a 2% chance of recovery for each year after the bone marrow transplant.’ I didn’t say anything, not to her, not to her family, not even to our three children. I didn’t want them to lose hope.”
He carried the burden alone for almost ten months:
“Managing my emotions while pretending everything was fine was the hardest part of a ten-month ordeal. I told the truth to everyone only in the final days, and it was a relief. I cried only then.”
The Children and the Truth
Torricelli’s children were young when their mother passed away:
“They were 10, 11, and 16. They never knew the truth; I didn’t have the strength to tell them, not even after. They will read it for the first time here.”
Leaving Football Behind
The loss of Barbara changed everything:
“I was coaching Figline. During her illness, spending two hours at the field was a relief; there, I could be myself. But then everything changed. I got an offer from Crotone in Serie B, but I turned it down. I couldn’t force my children to leave home at that moment. Losing their mother was a devastating blow. Family is woman; the attention and patience mothers have is completely different from men. Life can give you everything and take everything away. You choose your path, try to be the best person you can be at home and at work. But then there are illnesses, and you can’t do anything about them. With Barbara, I had twenty beautiful years, we had three wonderful children, two of whom have made me a grandfather. Could it have lasted longer? Certainly. But the journey was beautiful.”
Hopes and Dreams
Looking to the future, Torricelli’s dreams are simple and heartfelt:
“That my children and grandchildren can be well and find fulfillment in life. And to finish the mountain hut that belongs to Lucia. I’ve been fixing it up for three years—laid the parquet, done the bathroom walls and the kitchen. If I don’t hurry, she’ll throw me out of the house.”
