There is one image that, more than any other, captures the euphoria of a July afternoon. It’s the face of Jannik Sinner as he lifts the most coveted trophy in tennis to the sky. He has just won Wimbledon, the first Italian man ever to do so, and he did it against his lifelong rival, Carlos Alcaraz. In that moment, an emotional shockwave shot through all of Italy, a collective thrill that made us all feel part of something big, something special.
We are very fond of the heroic narrative, especially in sports: the slow and indomitable work of a single person toward the light of victory. The journey fraught with difficulties and unfavorable environments (something we know a thing or two about in Italy) which, in the often distorted narrative that is told, are supposedly the miraculous recipe that explains these champions’ success.
Perhaps we’ve seen Star Wars too many times and have internalized Luke Skywalker’s journey as the only way to forge champions, but it’s clear that isn’t the case. The exceptional results of Italian athletes are certainly a credit to them personally, but they are also a credit to a structure that we will try to investigate in this series of articles. To better understand how a sports system (made up of more vertical and specific subsystems) works and how important it is for the growth and victory of its athletes.
An Extraordinary Moment
It’s true: this is an extraordinary moment, as many have called it. Around the same time, and starting with the 2024 Paris Olympics, Nadia Battocletti continues to shatter record after record, running with a lightness that conceals a will of steel. And it’s not just track and field: we won’t even mention (because it would take too long) the triumphs in women’s volleyball, in swimming, and in so many other sports.
Italy is winning, and winning a lot. Winning in different disciplines, with different athletes, in different contexts. And every time, we feel proud, united. Yet, a moment after the celebration, when the adrenaline subsides, we start to wonder how it’s possible. A country that seems to invest only in soccer manages to excel in so many other sports. Despite its structural and economic limitations.
The Shadow Behind the Light
How do we do it? How can a hyper-bureaucratic nation that struggles with long-term planning, that often leaves its facilities to age under the sun and weather—how can it produce world-class champions with such consistency? How can such pure talents blossom in soil that, looking at it up close, often seems barren and neglected?
It’s an uncomfortable question because it forces us to look beyond the podium, behind the scenes of the great spectacle of victory. It forces us to ask whether ours is a well-oiled medal machine or an incredible balancing act that, for some strange reason, always succeeds. And here, the narrative of the hero and heroine returns.
The answer we give ourselves, almost instinctively, is in fact the most romantic one. It’s the simplest one. It’s the narrative of the miracle.
The “Miracle” Narrative
When an Italian athlete wins something historic, we almost always tell ourselves the same story: that of individual genius, of pure talent that blossomed almost by chance, of the lone hero who made it against all odds. It’s a beautiful and gratifying narrative, but it’s also a dangerous simplification.
Presenting every success as a miraculous exception serves, perhaps unintentionally, to hide the reality. It serves to avoid talking about the “all” that our athletes had to fight against. Celebrating the individual or the team that triumphs ends up absolving the system, removing responsibility from those who should be creating an environment where sports are an accessible right for everyone, not an obstacle course for a select few. We are all fascinated by stories, but often, stories tell only part of the truth, or they simplify it greatly.
Think about it: it’s as if we were enjoying the fruits of a wonderful tree without ever bothering to water its roots. In fact, we almost boast that the tree manages to grow lushly in dry soil.
This narrative is not harmless. It places the entire weight of success, and therefore also of failure, on the shoulders of the individual athlete and their family. Sports become a private matter, a personal gamble. If you make it, you’re a national hero. If you don’t, the problem is yours alone.
The Open Questions
Perhaps, then, the time has come to ask ourselves a different question. No longer “how is it possible?” but “what’s really behind it?”. It’s time to look beyond the fairy tale of the miracle and try to understand.
What does it mean for a young person to try to become a champion in Italy? What is the real state of the gyms, tracks, and pools where those who dream of the Olympics train? And how does the machine that produces success—the one we don’t see on television—really work?
Because the truth is that a model, however strange and full of contradictions, does exist. And understanding how it works is the only way to make it fairer, stronger, and to ensure that this “extraordinary moment” is not just a beautiful memory, but the beginning of an even brighter future. A future built on planning, not just on passion. On care, not just on resilience.