The Power Struggle in Italian Football: Lega Serie A Faces Off Against CONI Ahead of the Ruling

On October 6, in Rome, the CONI National Council will meet. On the table is a proposal that could place the Italian Football Federation (FIGC) under the administrative control of a special commissioner. The night before, Lega Serie A — the body representing clubs in the country's top division — issued a rare and sharp statement, warning that the move would "plunge Italian football into chaos."

I have followed many institutional battles across nearly two decades in this profession. They usually begin with dry wording in press releases, then end with very concrete consequences on the pitch: a postponed fixture calendar, a suspended club licence, a frozen transfer decision. Outsiders look at the scoreboard; I look at the pulse in the tunnel. And in the tunnel of Italian football right now, the pulse is beating faster than in any derby.

This is not a story about a player, a coach or a tactic. It is a story about who controls Italian football — and whether football organisations are allowed to govern themselves. A pure power struggle, but its consequences will flow down to every club, every sponsorship contract, every European cup place.

CONTEXT: WHO IS WHO IN ITALIAN FOOTBALL

To understand why an administrative meeting carries such weight, one must redraw the power map of Italian football.

At the top sits CONI — the Italian National Olympic Committee. This is the country's highest sports oversight body, with formal authority over sports federations, including the FIGC. CONI does not organise football, but it can intervene in how football organises itself. That is precisely the crux of this story.

Below CONI is the FIGC — the Italian Football Federation, the national governing body responsible for competitions, the national team and the club licensing system. At its head currently is Giovanni Malagò, who was just elected president. An important detail: Malagò was previously president of CONI. The move of a former CONI leader to take charge at the FIGC is a notable institutional event, and may itself be the seed of the current dispute.

Below the FIGC is Lega Serie A — the body representing clubs in the top division. Lega Serie A was the driving force behind Malagò's election campaign and elected him by an overwhelming margin. In other words, Lega Serie A has staked its political credibility on Malagò. When his credibility is challenged, the league's own credibility is also on the line.

And finally, behind it all, is football as a field with "autonomy" — a principle recognised in Italian sports law and in European principles on the "specificity of sport". That principle is the heart of the entire dispute.

At the core of the matter is a proposal: CONI intends to appoint a special commissioner to administer the FIGC. The proposal rests on an allegation that Malagò is "ineligible" (ineleggibilità) to have been elected FIGC president. If the allegation holds, his election could be annulled, and the FIGC would fall into external administrative control.

Lega Serie A fiercely opposes this. In its statement, the body said it "does not understand the legal basis" of the proposal, that the move is "inappropriate", and that it violates "the autonomy of football". That language is openly confrontational, and it was issued on the very eve of the CONI Council meeting.

That is the context. Now comes the more interesting part: what is really happening beneath the surface of legal wording.

ANALYSIS: TWO LEGAL AXES AND A POWER MAP

Two legal axes intertwine in this case, and separating them is essential to understanding the true nature of the fight.

The first axis is the legitimacy of the election. The entire proposal to appoint a commissioner rests on the assumption that Malagò was ineligible to be elected. If the election was legitimate, the proposal collapses. If not, the FIGC could lose the leader it just chose. This is a purely internal CONI/FIGC law axis — about conditions, procedures and candidacy standards. Notably, the published information does not specify which particular provision was breached. No criminal allegation appears in the picture. This is a dispute about status, not about ethics or crime.

The second axis is the authority to intervene. Even if the election were problematic, the next question is: does CONI have the right to impose a commissioner on the FIGC without breaching football's autonomy? This is precisely the point Lega Serie A exploits. The body does not necessarily deny CONI's oversight authority on paper — it questions whether the use of that authority in this specific case is reasonable and lawful.

The power map can be redrawn as follows. The state and sports law create the framework. CONI sits within that framework as the oversight body. The FIGC sits under CONI's oversight but is expected to have self-governance. Lega Serie A sits under the FIGC administratively but wields enormous political and financial power thanks to Serie A's commercial scale. When CONI proposes imposing a commissioner, it touches the most sensitive point: the boundary between oversight and control.

What strikes me most in this structure is the asymmetry of power types. CONI has formal power — the power to rule, to appoint, to impose. Lega Serie A has political and media power — the ability to mobilise public opinion, to shape a narrative, to apply pressure. In a head-on confrontation, formal power usually wins in the short term. But in the long term, a federation under administrative control without the backing of its clubs will struggle to operate. This is why this fight is unlikely to end with a mere ruling.

THE TIMING FACTOR: WHY OCTOBER IS THE WORST POSSIBLE MOMENT

A detail that Lega Serie A's statement called "an extremely delicate time" deserves separate analysis.

October is mid-season for Serie A. Competitions are under way, teams are in the grind of three matches a week across multiple fronts. More importantly, this is also the period when key administrative decisions are typically made: budget approvals, licensing matters, preparations for transfer windows and European competitions.

If the FIGC falls under administrative control, Italian football's decision-making machinery could be paralysed for weeks, even months. A commissioner imposed from outside would have less legitimacy than an elected president, and that directly affects the ability to persuade stakeholders — from clubs to commercial partners to international football bodies.

I have witnessed a similar dynamic in the Asian football context. When a federation's leadership changes mid-season, the consequences are not just arguments in the press. They are postponed meetings, suspended decisions, clubs unsure whether they will be licensed, sponsorship contracts left in doubt. Data tells the story of what has passed. The dressing room tells the story of what is coming. And in this case, the dressing room of Italian football is whispering about uncertainty.

The key point is: in modern football, governance is not merely an administrative function. It is part of the operating infrastructure. A federation paralysed in governance is like a team that has lost its playmaking midfielder: there are still players on the pitch, but no one connecting the lines.

THE BLIND SPOT: WHAT THE NEWS DOES NOT SAY

This is the part I want to give special attention to, because it concerns how we read the news.

Lega Serie A's statement is the only voice fully quoted in this picture. There is no response from CONI. No response from Malagò. No response from the camp that raised the ineligibility allegation. This is a clear information asymmetry.

When a story has only one side speaking, readers need to ask about the other side. The camp alleging Malagò is ineligible almost certainly has its own arguments. It could be a specific rule on term limits, on incompatibility between positions, or on election procedure. Those arguments do not appear in the picture Lega Serie A paints. And because they do not appear, readers easily get the impression that CONI's proposal is baseless — when in reality, we are only looking at half the story.

There is something interesting about the language. Lega Serie A says it "does not understand the legal basis". This is a striking way of putting it. Instead of attacking the rightness or wrongness of the proposal directly, it questions its own ability to understand it. This is a subtle delegitimisation tactic: if the legal basis is so unclear that a major organisation cannot understand it, then perhaps it is not solid enough. But that is an argument about perception, not about law.

I do not write based on emotion. I write based on what can be verified. And what can be verified here is: we are missing information from the other side. That does not make Lega Serie A's position wrong. It simply means we cannot yet fully assess the matter.

CONTRARIAN ANGLE: THIS IS NOT A FIGHT BETWEEN RIGHT AND WRONG

Most of the commentary I have read on this case frames it as a fight between those defending football and those interfering from outside. Lega Serie A stands on the side of light, CONI on the side of darkness. It is an emotionally appealing reading, but it ignores a simple reality: organisations do not act out of pure principle. They act out of interest.

Lega Serie A is not only defending "the autonomy of football" as an abstract concept. It is defending a governance order it has invested in. It led Malagò's campaign. It elected him by an overwhelming margin. If he is removed, that is not just a personal defeat for Malagò. It is a defeat for Lega Serie A itself, a decline in the organisation's political influence within the power structure of Italian football.

So when Lega Serie A talks about "autonomy", it is talking about a real principle, but also about its own interests. The two are not mutually exclusive. And recognising this does not make its position wrong. It only makes the picture more complex.

Conversely, CONI does not act out of malice. A national oversight body has a duty to ensure sports federations comply with the rules. If there is a serious allegation of ineligibility, investigating and addressing it is part of its remit. The question is not whether CONI has the right to ask. The question is whether the way it asks — and the solution it proposes — is proportionate to the problem.

This is the point I think many readers miss. This fight is not between good and evil. It is between two types of power, two conceptions of how football should be run, and two sets of interests. Choosing a side in such a fight is often an emotional act rather than an analytical judgment.

There is another aspect I want to raise. Appointing a special commissioner is not something unusual in sports governance. Many sports federations worldwide have gone through this phase, and in some cases it has helped resolve deep-rooted governance problems. But in other cases, it has created prolonged legitimacy crises and paralysed the federation's operations for months. The difference lies in context, in the legitimacy of the original allegation, and in the parties' ability to find a broadly accepted solution.

I was once pushed to the margins, so I understand the value of a seat in the corner. And from this seat in the corner, I see that both sides are playing a long game, not just a move before the October 6 meeting.

RIPPLE EFFECTS: FROM ROME TO EUROPE'S PITCHES

What would happen if CONI actually imposed a commissioner on the FIGC?

The worst case is administrative paralysis. Decisions on club licensing, on the fixture calendar, on regulatory matters could stall. Serie A clubs — operating with complex financial plans and long-term commercial contracts — could face regulatory uncertainty mid-season.

But the consequences could reach beyond Italy's borders. The principle of sports autonomy is a live debate at European level. How Italy resolves the CONI-FIGC tension could be seen as a precedent for the balance between public authorities and football self-governance. Bodies such as UEFA and FIFA monitor such developments closely, because the principle of non-interference in member associations' governance is core to them.

If external interference is perceived to be occurring in Italy, it could create tensions in relations between Italian football and European football bodies. This could affect the position of Italian clubs in negotiations over competition formats, revenue distribution, and broader European governance matters.

At national-team level, the FIGC's focus on a legitimacy crisis could divert attention from football development, youth training and preparation for international tournaments. In football, leadership attention is a finite resource. When it is consumed by internal fights, other areas suffer.

I taught myself through video in Busan, and now I read a match like the palm of my hand. And one of the things I learned is: in football, the most important matches sometimes take place where there is no ball. They take place in meeting rooms, in corridors, in phone calls no one records. The CONI Council meeting on October 6 is such a match. No spectators, no commentators, but its result will be felt on Serie A pitches for months to come.

POSSIBLE SCENARIOS

There are three main scenarios worth considering.

The first, worst scenario: CONI decides to impose a commissioner. Malagò is sidelined. The FIGC operates under a commissioner with limited legitimacy. Decision-making stalls. The dispute escalates into a legal case over sports autonomy, potentially lasting months. In this scenario, Lega Serie A suffers a loss of political influence, and Italian football as a whole suffers a loss of credibility and operating capacity.

The second, central scenario: CONI issues a conditional ruling — either confirming or rejecting the commissioner proposal, but with accompanying conditions. Political tension continues, but there is no administrative paralysis. This is perhaps the most likely scenario, because it allows both sides to save face without escalating to extremes.

The third, most optimistic scenario: the ineligibility allegation is dismissed, Malagò's election is confirmed, and the commissioner proposal is withdrawn. Lega Serie A's position is vindicated. In this scenario, the credibility of Malagò and Lega Serie A is strengthened, and the principle of football's autonomy is reaffirmed. But even in this scenario, the tensions exposed may still leave cracks in relations between the organisations.

The important thing to remember is: the outcome of the October 6 meeting is not the end of the story. It is just a marker in a longer process. Battles over sports governance are rarely resolved by a single ruling. They are resolved through a series of negotiations, compromises, and sometimes generational changes in leadership.

WHAT TO WATCH NEXT

If you follow this story, these are the internal signals I will be watching.

First, CONI's response. If CONI issues a conditional ruling and is open to dialogue, that is a sign it is seeking a compromise. If it imposes a commissioner rigidly, that is a sign it is willing to accept escalation.

Second, the clubs' response. Lega Serie A has spoken, but that is the organisation's voice. The voice of individual clubs — especially the big ones — may differ. If leading clubs begin to question Lega Serie A's strategy, that will be a sign of cracks in the bloc.

Third, Malagò's voice. So far he has been relatively quiet in reports. But he is a veteran sports administrator, and how he responds — publicly or quietly, confrontationally or conciliatorily — will shape the dynamics of the dispute in the coming weeks.

Fourth, reactions from outside Italy. If UEFA or FIFA give any signal that they are monitoring the situation, that will be a sign that this dispute is being viewed as a matter beyond Italy's borders.

A substitute player knows more than five journalists combined. In this case, the "substitutes" — lower-level officials, federation staff, those who work daily in the machinery — may already know the outcome of the meeting before it happens. Because in sports politics, as in football, important decisions are often shaped long before they are announced.

CONCLUSION: WHAT IS REALLY AT STAKE

When I look at this fight, I do not see a fight between right and wrong. I see a negotiation over the boundary of power taking place in the form of a legal dispute.

Italian football faces a question that many sports systems worldwide also face: how to balance a sports field's self-governance with the oversight duty of public authorities? There is no easy answer. Too much self-governance can lead to a lack of accountability. Too much oversight can stifle flexibility and innovation.

What is happening in Italy is not an exception. It is an expression of a structural tension in modern sport. And how Italy resolves this tension will be watched not only by Italian football fans, but by all who care about how sport is governed in the twenty-first century.

The analysis that was mocked in 2026 is now a lesson plan. I do not need them to remember my name. What I need is for my readers to understand that behind every official statement, behind every closed meeting, behind every headline, there is always another match taking place — a match over power, over interests, and over the future of the sport we love.

And in that match, the winner is not always the one who scores the most goals. Sometimes the winner is the one who best understands the rules of the game — and knows when to change them.

On October 6, when the CONI Council meets in Rome, a new chapter of this story will begin. The question is not only whether Malagò keeps his seat. The bigger question is: who will control Italian football, and under what rules? The answer to that question will shape not only this season, but the decade to come.

Outsiders look at the scoreboard; I look at the pulse in the tunnel. And that pulse, right now, is saying that the real match has not yet begun.