Zenga: "Sonetti came to my house. And I hid... my girlfriend. Inter, I'd go back in a heartbeat."

A life as a goalkeeper and a coach, a life worthy of a novel. An interview with Walter Zenga is a journey through half a century of football, from the 1960s to today. It's impossible to tell everything, but it's possible to remember enough.

Zenga, let's start from the beginning, from Viale Ungheria, the suburb of Milan where you grew up. What was Italy like from there?

I often return to Viale Ungheria. My brother Alberto lives there, and out of gratitude, I granted the use of my name to Macallesi, my first team. For me, it wasn't the outskirts, but the center of the world, with Viale Forlanini and the Ortomercato as its borders. My kingdom was the courtyard at number 21, block 4. The geography of the courtyards was important; it wasn't as if one could enter a space that wasn't theirs. It was just kids' stuff. We all met at the oratory.

Why did you choose Inter as a child?

My father was a Juventus fan, but he took me to see Inter Milan, I don't know why, and I became an Inter fan out of spite for him. My first time at San Siro was for an Inter-Brescia match, and I was captivated more by the huge V on the black jersey of Brescia goalkeeper Luigi Brotto (who passed away in 2024, ed.) than by Inter. My dad had been the goalkeeper for Pro Lissone, then he broke his knee and ended his career. In my first match as coach of Brera, in 2000, I faced Pro Lissone: one of those coincidences that makes you think it was a sign.

His first idol as an Inter fan?

Silvano Martina, the former goalkeeper. He played only one Serie A match for Inter, against Palermo in 1973, and I was there. He was the third goalkeeper, after Lido Vieri and Bordon. A few days later, he came to the Richard Ginori pitch, where we in the youth team trained, and I was thrilled.

He developed in the Inter youth academy. Then he traveled around Italy to gain experience. First stop, Salernitana.

And the first lesson, a crucial learning experience. Serie C1. We play against Paganese on neutral ground in Avellino. I save a penalty despite a dislocated finger, and we win. I spend the week feeling cool and invincible. The following Sunday, against league leaders Pisa, I concede two goals from my first two shots and leave in tears. That's when I realized that what matters isn't what you've done, but what you do and what you'll do.

Second stop, Savona.

I was in the military, going back and forth to the CAR (Recruit Training Center) in Bologna. At Savona, in Serie C2, my teammate was Pierino Prati, a legend, the left winger of AC Milan, who won the European Championship in 1969, in the final against Ajax. He had a unique play: a long ball to Prati and he took care of it. Pierino knows how to talk to young players: he never says 'what the f... you're doing,' but 'if you do this, it'll be better.'"

Third stage, Sambenedettese. The most important.

Because there I had Nedo Sonetti, the coach who raised me, and because I experienced the Italian Heysel. No one remembers it, I do it here. It's June 7, 1981, Samb-Matera, the match that got us promoted to Serie B, at the Fratelli Ballarin stadium in San Benedetto del Tronto. There's a photo where I'm facing our stand, which is catching fire. In the blaze (the fire started from strips of paper cut to celebrate, ed.) two girls die and there are many seriously burned, but we don't know it and we play anyway, amidst the ambulance sirens and the firefighters' work. Crazy, but communication is slow, the news is sketchy. At least we don't celebrate, because something gets out."

September 1981, first matchday of Serie B, Samb-Lazio. On Thursday, as always, my girlfriend comes from Milan and, as always, she'll be staying with me until Sunday. On Thursday, Sonetti says to me: 'Walter, your girlfriend isn't coming today, is she? We have a very important match.' I say: 'No, mister, don't worry.' She was already on the train. But Sonetti senses something and that evening shows up for an inspection in the building where I live, behind the stadium stands. I hide her on the balcony of an office, along with her suitcase.

It looks like a scene from an Italian sexy comedy, starring Edwige Fenech and Renzo Montagnani.

"Sonetti, a Tuscan, came into my house and said, 'Listen to me, Walter. There are two things you can't fool me about: football and women, and it smells like women here.' We laughed about it for years. Sonetti was a great coach; at Samb we did things that are now passed off as new, like kicking the ball forward in attack to pressure the opponents on throw-ins. Sonetti was a futurist: I'm surprised he never coached a big club."

Then he returned to Inter, his parent club. Twelve seasons, between 1982 and 1994. The best moment?

“The last match, the second leg of the UEFA Cup final against Salzburg. I know I'll be leaving, even though the management hasn't told me anything. I know because Roberto Mancini told me that Pagliuca will be leaving Sampdoria for Inter. And I know that the new coach, Ottavio Bianchi, doesn't want me. San Siro is packed, I save everything, we win the match and the trophy. It's the last of my 473 appearances for Inter. To the Canale 5 journalist who asks me if that's true, if it's true that I'm leaving, I immediately reply with a 'who cares'. With the UEFA Cup I'll settle my accounts; it's the perfect farewell.”

The best save for Inter?

"Against Torino at San Siro, in September 1983, the year Gigi Radice was Nerazzurri coach. I flew to deflect a shot from Domenico Caso, with the ball heading straight for the top corner. And then the saves against Salzburg—my entire repertoire was there."

Which Inter coach did you bond with the most?

I should say Giovanni Trapattoni, five fantastic years, with a record-breaking Scudetto, but I'd go with Osvaldo Bagnoli. The 1992-93 season, I was dropped from the national team and Inter missed out on European competition. Translation: I have to train every week at Appiano, I'm no longer used to it and I'm nervous. One day I have a disagreement with Bagnoli and leave the pitch. I take a shower and realize I have to go to the coach and apologize. I knock on his closet door and on the other side I hear Bagnoli say, 'Come on, Walter, come in.' I open the door and ask, 'Excuse me, coach, but how did you know it was me?' He replies, 'Walter, you're a good person and I knew you'd come to apologize. Go home, there's no problem, it's all over here.' This episode has stayed with me and taught me a lot.

His strongest teammate in his 12 years at Inter?

"It's impossible to answer, I've had too many. Uncle Bergomi and Riccardo Ferri remain my best friends, then all the guys who won the record-breaking Scudetto: Serena, Alessandro Banchi, Matteoli. In the national team, I shared everything with Luca Vialli, and I have Sinisa Mihajlovic with me."

"Me and the goalkeepers of my generation played against Maradona, Platini, Zico, Van Basten, Careca, Vialli. Luckily, Rummenigge was at Inter. Conceding goals from champions like that was acceptable. I was annoyed by the Sunday shot, the classic lucky shot, sometimes from a rookie."

At Inter, he had two presidents, Ivanoe Fraizzoli and Ernesto Pellegrini.

"I'm sticking to my guns: presidents listen to each other and don't comment. Not in public. Maybe in private."

"The first, Hang Gliding, was invented by Gianni Brera, and I'm proud of it. We had direct contact with journalists; we'd meet outside the locker rooms, arguing face to face. Not like today, in cages and pens. If I wanted to clarify something with Brera, I'd just go to the tavern he frequented in the Sempione area; I almost always ran into him there for lunch."

“Spider-Man: I basically gave it to myself. It was 1992, the year 883's song boomed. Sacchi cut me from the national team. In Appiano, a reporter asked me: 'Walter, what do you think of this exclusion?'. I zipped up my black tracksuit and replied, humming: 'They killed Spider-Man, no one knows who did it, maybe Sacchi, Matarrese, Carmignani, who knows (Matarrese was the president of the Italian Football Federation; Carmignani, a former goalkeeper, was Sacchi's assistant, ed.)'. The next day, a full-page spread about this came out, and I became Spider-Man. I had a request for Max Pezzali (the leader of 883, now a soloist, ed.): Max, invite me on stage sometime to sing 'Hanno ucciso l'Uomo Ragno' with you, you're also an Inter Milan fan!”

National Chapter. For Italy, Zenga reached the semi-finals twice, at the 1988 European Championship and the 1990 World Cup. A sore point was his poor exit in Naples in 1990, which cost him a 1-1 draw against Argentina.

The historical lie is that we lost the World Cup because of that episode. I say this to the keyboard warriors who bother me with this. There were more than 20 minutes left in the 90th minute, and then there were extra time and penalties. Like those who blame Robi Baggio for the penalty miss at USA '94. And it's not just those who don't do things that make mistakes. At Italia '90, we played a nearly perfect World Cup, six wins and a draw in 120 minutes, and yet we finished third.

Care to analyze that exit? Maradona's throw, Zenga's miss, Caniggia's goal.

In that situation, the goalkeeper who comes off is screwed nine times out of ten. Why did I come off? I don't know, it's just a matter of moments, and I decided that way. If you can't anticipate the attacker, you have to stay in goal and try to save. I made the most awkward choice, in a hundredth of a second, and I paid for it. To the 1988 and 1990 semi-finals, I add the 1984 Los Angeles Games and the Under-21 European Championship finals against Spain—all results we dream of today. Life isn't just about raising trophies to the sky. Paolo Maldini said he lost more finals than he won.

Was his best quality his courage?

"No, personality. And positional awareness, because if you don't have that quality, it's better not to be a goalkeeper."

His CV includes a season at Padova, with Allegri as his teammate.

“In 1996-97, in Serie B. Bergodi, Lantignotti, and Cristiano Lucarelli were also there. In theory, we were a great team, but in practice, things went badly (11th place, ed.). Allegri was a strong midfielder. He always wanted the ball. 'Give it to me,' he used to say.”

Zenga, a courageous and pioneering coach, traveling around the world.

"I started in America, in Boston, as a player-coach, with Nanu Galderisi as my assistant. I went to Romania to play for Progresul, a small club. We played in the UEFA Cup, and something strange happened there. An hour and a half before the match against PSG in Bucharest, the news came that the father of Dani Prodan, one of our players, had died in a car accident on the way to the stadium. These are moments you have to deal with alone; no one teaches you how."

I've been to Turkey, but not Istanbul. I've been to Gaziantep, near the Syrian border. I won the league with Steaua Bucharest in Romania and with Red Star Belgrade in Serbia. I spent five months at Wolverhampton Wanderers in the Championship, England's second division, just before Jorge Mendes emerged with his talented Portuguese players, and there I realized that football in England is on a different level. I went to Saudi Arabia, to Al Nassr, now Ronaldo's team, but I did it in 2010, when Saudi football wasn't what it is today. I've always signed annual contracts; I've never wanted the comfort zone of a multi-year deal. I've only accepted it once, at Palermo.

“As presidents, I had Ferrero at Sampdoria and Tacopina at Venezia, I didn't deny myself anything. I had wonderful experiences in Sicily, between Catania and Palermo. Catania was the best, we survived with six games to go. In Palermo, I had Cavani, Pastore, and Balzaretti. There, I launched Sirigu as goalkeeper and Miccoli was captain. Fabrizio was caught in the middle of a nasty situation, but he paid his dues and for me, he remains a kind person. I landed in Cagliari just before the lockdown, we played 13 games in 40 days between June and July and survived. Not at Crotone, but we played good football. I was almost never sacked for results. They often kicked me out with the team in a safe position. In 2023, I was technical director in Indonesia, at Persita Tangerang. The Indonesians are wonderful, welcoming, and polite. They open the door to their homes for you, no one commits crimes. The only place they get angry is in the stadium (laughter, ed.)”.

A thousand experiences, but one is missing. A return to Ithaca, which would be Inter. Haven't they ever looked for it?

“Once, I don't remember if it was the moment they brought in Stramaccioni or Mazzarri.”

I haven't been to San Siro in a year and a half, but if I were to return, I'd end up surrounded by our fans, as always. For them, it's as if I stopped playing two days ago, and that's enough for me. Inter fans are my people. Like everyone else, I would have liked and would love to return home. Let's say there's plenty of time between now and a hundred years, but no, I'm no longer hoping for it because I don't see a position for myself. Although, if they wanted, they could find a job.

What's it like living in Dubai? She's lived there since 2010.

"Good. I live six months in Dubai and six in Italy. My two youngest children are studying in Dubai, but they're quite grown up now: Walter Junior—he was born in Dubai, and I named him that because in the future there'll still be a Walter Zenga to bother us—and Samira. I'm not in Dubai for the taxes, but for the security: you can leave your front door unlocked and your keys in the ignition, you can forget your wallet on the restaurant table and find it there, untouched, hours later. If Samira goes out at night, there's no need to worry."

He collaborates with Sky, which has its studios in Rogoredo, near Viale Ungheria. After all, he's returned to his roots.

"It's true. The only place I can't go back to is Inter."