The effort will extend from national teams to flag football for youth, women and girls. And, the initiative aims to spread recognition of the Browns brand through FIDAF-led activities, including camps, clinics, tournaments and emerging programming.

The announcement comes as the Browns hire new head coach Todd Monken and break ground on a new $2.6 billion enclosed stadium set to open in the summer of 2029 — all in a bid to literally rebuild the once-dominant, yet still beloved, team from the ground up.

The news comes as another American football league in Italy, the ILF (Italian Football League), continues to elevate the sport with several branded teams, playoffs and an “Italian Bowl,” which was hosted in Ohio the past two years and will be held at Paolo Mazza Stadium in Ferrara, Italy, on July 4, 2026.

The ILF, which is affiliated with FIDAF, has been around for almost 50 years, and was even the subject of a John Grisham novel, Playing for Pizza, and was featured in The New York Times last fall.

Despite still being in the shadow of European football, the American version’s popularity is emerging and the gridiron’s footprint in Italy traces back to WWII when American soldiers would hold pickup games — like the famed Spaghetti Bowl.

Get a history of the game in Italy here: 

In 1930, immigrant families banded together to create the Italian Sons and Daughters of America (ISDA), now one of the most prominent and financially successful Italian American organizations in the nation. In the last decade, we built a 730,000-strong social media community, grew our not-for-profit fraternal association, ISDA Financial Life, to nearly a half billion dollars in member assets, co-founded the Russo Brothers Italian American Filmmaker Forum (RBIAFF), and launched the fastest-growing Italian American publication (La Nostra Voce). 

The post American Football in Italy? Cleveland Browns Ink Partnership to Spread Game Throughout the Boot appeared first on Italian Sons and Daughters of America.

I’m 54 and I still play soccer once or twice a week without fail. Not because I think I’m a star, but because that ball (made of hard leather back then) has never left my side since I was a young kid in Rome, in Monteverde, when we used to play in the street until dark.

No coaches, no set plays, no one yelling at you what to do every second, except for my mom. At 8 o’clock sharp, from the balcony of my apartment, she would scream, “Marco, stop playing, it’s dinner time!” Great times. That was free, instinctive, sometimes chaotic soccer, but it built character like nothing else. That’s where you truly learned: you’d try a dribble 10 times and fail eight, but those two successful ones made you feel alive.

This article first appeared in the May 2026 edition of La Nostra Voce, ISDA’s monthly newspaper that chronicles Italian and Italian American news, history, culture and recipes. Subscribe today!

But it wasn’t just that. You’d try a chip shot for no reason, a backheel just to make your friends laugh and blow them away, or a no-look pass like Francesco Totti: those slightly crazy moves that didn’t always work out. It was soccer made of imagination, instinct, and freedom.

Today I look at Italian soccer, our Serie A, and I struggle to recognize that spirit. And you don’t need to be a player, a coach, or an analyst to notice it. I’m certainly no expert. I don’t have coaching licenses, and I haven’t written books on tactics. I’m simply a passionate fan, a lifelong supporter of my team, AS Roma, someone, like many, who lives and breathes soccer. And maybe it’s precisely from this genuine and simple perspective that the issues stand out even more clearly.

A while ago, I saw a report on Sky Sport that got me thinking. Among all the major leagues in the world, including the European ones, Serie A is near the bottom for both attempted and successful dribbles. Less than the Premier League, less than La Liga, and even less than Major League Soccer.

And so, you ask yourself: how is this even possible?

Because dribbling isn’t just a statistic. It is an important indicator, but it’s also a powerful language. It’s the courage to try something. But along with dribbling, other things are disappearing too: the chip shot when no one expects it, the backheel that opens up the game, the Totti-style no-look pass made up on the spot, the kind of play that makes you jump off the couch. In Spain, you still see players constantly risking the one-on-one. In the Premier League, it’s normal to see wingers take on their man 10 times a game. Even in Major League Soccer, which used to be considered inferior and suffers from many of the same issues as Italian soccer, today you find a bit more rhythm, courage, and individual initiative. In Italy, too often, you see the opposite: control it, lay it off, drop it back. Safety first. Long diagonal balls from one side to the other. But very little creativity.

And this doesn’t start in Serie A. It starts much earlier. It starts on the street and on the youth soccer fields.

Today in Italy, kids play to win at 10 years old. At 11. At 12. And to win, coaches pick the biggest, most developed, and most physically ready kids. The safe and large players. The smaller kid, who might be more technically gifted, gets left behind. Not because he isn’t good, but because at that moment he is less dominant. This is where a globally known phenomenon comes into play, the “relative age effect”: those born in the first months of the year have an advantage because they are bigger than their peers born at the end of the year. And coaches, often without even realizing it, pick them. They play them, help them grow, and let them gain experience. The others, often smaller or younger, stay on the bench. All that matters is winning the local or neighborhood tournament. That way, the parents and the coaches are happy.

So it makes you wonder: if guys like Francesco Totti or Alessandro Del Piero, who were both born toward the end of the year, were growing up in this system today, would they have had the same chances? Or would they have been considered too small, too fragile, and pushed aside? It’s an uncomfortable question, but a necessary one.

On top of all this, there is another element that, in my opinion, is doing massive damage: the obsession with defense and tactics. In Italy, we’ve always been good at defending and tactics; it’s part of our soccer identity. But today, we’ve gone overboard. Tactics have become an obsession that starts as early as 7 or 8 years old. Children who are supposed to be having fun are filled with set plays, positioning, and chores. “Play simple,” “don’t take risks,” “don’t lose the ball.” But also: “no backheels,” “no chip shots,” “no weird moves.” Basically: zero imagination.

This creates a player who is organized and disciplined, but predictable. And when you get to the international level, predictability kills you. Because in the meantime, everyone else has kept nurturing unpredictability too.

Then there’s the system, namely the FIGC (Italian Football Federation). An outdated structure that is still too tied to old ways of thinking. It’s not enough to just change a president or a couple of directors. If you truly want change, you must step in at the key points, with the people who actually make the decisions. It’s not about destroying everything, but about having the courage to profoundly overhaul ideas, methodologies, and priorities.

Another aspect people rarely talk about, but that carries massive weight, is the steady disappearance of Italian players from top teams. Today in Serie A, around 70% of the minutes are played by foreigners, which is among the highest percentages in Europe. In some matches, less than a third of the starters are Italian. This isn’t just a feeling; it’s a fact. And this inevitably shrinks the pool the National Team can draw from.

The reasons are varied. On one hand, there is the global market, which makes it easier and often more cost-effective to buy players from abroad. On the other hand, there’s a system that prefers immediate results over the long term: it’s easier to buy a ready-made player than to wait for an Italian kid and help him grow. And yes, economic interests, commissions, and dynamics between clubs and agents play a role in this mechanism too. But the point isn’t to look for one single scapegoat. The point is that the result is right in front of us: fewer Italians playing at a high level means fewer Italians becoming champions. And in the end, when it is time to step up for the National Team, that is where you pay the price.

Years ago, after Italy was knocked out in the 2010 group stage, Roberto Baggio worked on a massive project to reform Italian youth soccer. A document of a solid 900 pages, full of ideas, concrete proposals, and common sense. The core idea was simple: we need a national plan, a shared vision, that puts talent and player development at the center, not immediate results. That work, however, was largely ignored. Baggio essentially stepped down from his role as an advisor. And that says a lot. The paradox is that talent has never been lacking in Italy. You just must look at our history. We’ve had Andrea Pirlo, Roberto Baggio himself, Francesco Totti, Alessandro Del Piero. Players capable of inventing soccer out of nowhere. An impossible through ball, a backheel that puts a teammate clean through on goal, a no-look assist, or a chip shot that humbles the goalkeeper. Today, you see these plays less and less. Not because they have disappeared, but because fewer and fewer players are encouraged to try them.

And sure enough, the results are there for everyone to see. The struggles of the national team, the disappointments, the eliminations that hurt so much. These aren’t accidents. They are consequences.

But heed my word: it’s not all doom and gloom! Far from it. And this is where I want to talk to those who, like me, have Italian roots but might live in America and to anyone who feels part of this culture even from a distance. Because it is easy to forget where we come from when times get tough.

We come from an incredible history. Italy has won four World Cups: in 1934, 1938, 1982, and 2006. We have won two European Championships, in 1968 and 2021. We are one of the most successful and respected national teams in the history of soccer. That isn’t just a minor detail; it is our identity. It is pure italian pride.

And that Euro 2021 title wasn’t a miracle. It was the result of a group that, for a moment, rediscovered its enthusiasm, quality, and courage. They played without fear. They took risks. At times, they even played with simple imagination.

This means that we can make a comeback. It’s not a genetic problem, and it’s not that “we don’t have it anymore.” It is simply a matter of choices.

We need to bring soccer back to its essence, especially for the youth. Let the kids be free to make mistakes, to try things, and to have fun. Allow them not just to take on defenders, but to attempt a chip shot, a backheel, an imaginative no-look pass, or a move born entirely out of instinct. We need to train coaches who understand this. We need a federation that has the courage to truly change and get more Italians playing in Serie A.

I still play in my friendly matches. And every now and then, I still try to do something different: a dribble, a chip shot, or an imaginative pass that maybe doesn’t work out as well as it used to. But when it does happen, for a split second, I am that young kid from Monteverde again whose mom was yelling from the balcony. And I think that soccer, deep down, should still be exactly that. If we can manage to remember this, and if we have the humility and intelligence to change a few things, then maybe this isn’t an inevitable decline, but just a phase.

Because talent in Italy has never run out. It just needs to be set free to express itself. And maybe, the next time a young kid tries to take a man on or make a risky pass, instead of yelling “stop that and pass the ball!”, the coach from the bench will have the audacity to scream: “Awesome move! Try it again!”

Italian translation: 

Ho 54 anni e continuo imperterrito a giocare a calcio una o due volte a settimana. Non perché pensi di essere un campione, ma perché quel pallone (all’epoca di cuoio duro) non mi ha mai lasciato da quando ero ragazzino a Roma, a Monteverde, quando si giocava per strada fino a sera. Senza allenatori, senza schemi, senza qualcuno che ti urlasse cosa fare ogni secondo, tranne mia mamma. Alle 8 in punto, dal balcone del mio appartamento, urlava “Marco, basta giocare, e’ ora di cena !” Bei tempi. Quello era un calcio libero, istintivo, a volte caotico, ma tremendamente formativo. È lì che imparavi davvero: provavi il dribbling dieci volte, ne riuscivano due, ma quelle due ti facevano sentire vivo. Ma non era solo quello. Provavi il pallonetto senza motivo, il colpo di tacco per far ridere e stupire gli amici, il passaggio no-look alla Francesco Totti, quelle giocate un po’ folli che magari non sempre riuscivano. Era un calcio fatto di fantasia, di istinto, di libertà.

Oggi guardo il calcio italiano, la nostra Serie A, e faccio fatica a riconoscere quello spirito. E non serve essere un calciatore, un allenatore o uno studioso per accorgersene. Io non sono certo un esperto. Non ho patentini, non ho scritto libri di tattica. Sono semplicemente un appassionato, tifoso romanista della mia squadra AS Roma da sempre, uno che il calcio lo vive. E forse proprio da questa posizione genuina e semplice i problemi si vedono ancora più chiaramente.

Qualche tempo fa ho visto un servizio su Sky Sport che mi ha fatto riflettere. Tra tutti i principali campionati del mondo, inclusi quelli europei, la Serie A è tra quelli con meno dribbling tentati e riusciti. Meno della Premier League, meno della La Liga, meno perfino della Major League Soccer. E allora ti chiedi: com’è possibile?

Perché il dribbling non è solo una statistica. È un indice importante ma anche un linguaggio. È il coraggio di provare qualcosa. Ma insieme al dribbling spariscono anche altre cose: il pallonetto quando nessuno se lo aspetta, il colpo di tacco che apre il gioco, il passaggio alla Totti inventato senza guardare, quello che ti fa alzare dal divano. In Spagna vedi ancora giocatori che rischiano costantemente l’uno contro uno. In Premier League è normale vedere esterni che puntano l’uomo dieci volte a partita. Anche nella Major League Soccer, che una volta veniva considerata inferiore, e che soffre di problematiche simili a quelle italiane, oggi trovi un po’ più di ritmo, coraggio, iniziativa individuale. In Italia, troppo spesso, vedi il contrario: controllo, appoggio, scarico. Sicurezza. Passaggi lunghi da una sponda all’altra. Ma poca invenzione.

E questo non nasce in Serie A. Nasce molto prima. Nasce per strada e nei campi dei ragazzini.

Oggi in Italia si gioca per vincere a dieci anni. A undici. A dodici. E per vincere si scelgono i ragazzi più grandi, più sviluppati, più pronti fisicamente. I cosiddetti “cristoni”. Il ragazzino più piccolo, magari tecnicamente più dotato, viene lasciato indietro. Non perché non sia bravo, ma perché in quel momento è meno dominante. Qui entra in gioco un fenomeno conosciuto in tutto il mondo, il “relative age effect”: chi nasce nei primi mesi dell’anno è avvantaggiato, perché è più grande rispetto ai coetanei nati a fine anno. E gli allenatori, spesso senza rendersene conto, scelgono lui. Lo fanno giocare, lo fanno crescere e acquista esperienza. Gli altri, spesso più piccoli o più giovani, restano in panchina. Conta solo vincere il torneo provinciale o di quartiere. Cosi sono contenti i genitori e gli allenatori.

E allora viene da chiedersi: se oggigiorno crescessero in questo sistema ragazzi come Francesco Totti o Alessandro Del Piero, entrambi nati verso la fine dell’anno, avrebbero avuto le stesse possibilità? O sarebbero stati considerati troppo piccoli, troppo fragili, e quindi messi da parte? È una domanda scomoda, ma necessaria.

A tutto questo si aggiunge un altro elemento che, secondo me, sta facendo danni enormi: l’ossessione per la tattica. In Italia siamo sempre stati bravi tatticamente, è parte della nostra identità calcistica. Ma oggi si è andati oltre. La tattica è diventata un’ossessione che parte già dai sette, otto anni. Bambini che dovrebbero divertirsi vengono riempiti di schemi, posizioni, compiti. “Gioca semplice”, “non rischiare”, “non perdere palla”. Ma anche: “niente colpi di tacco”, “niente pallonetti”, “niente giocate strane”. In pratica: niente fantasia.

Così si forma un giocatore ordinato, disciplinato, ma prevedibile. E quando arrivi a livello internazionale, la prevedibilità ti uccide. Perché gli altri, nel frattempo, hanno continuato a coltivare anche l’imprevedibilità.

Poi c’è il sistema, cioè la FIGC Federazione Italiana Gioco Calcio. Una struttura anacronistica e ancora troppo legata a logiche vecchie. Non basta cambiare un presidente o due dirigenti. Se vuoi davvero cambiare, devi intervenire nei punti chiave, nelle persone che prendono decisioni. Non si tratta di distruggere tutto, ma di avere il coraggio di rinnovare profondamente le idee, le metodologie, le priorità. Un altro aspetto di cui si parla poco, ma che pesa tantissimo, è la progressiva scomparsa dei giocatori italiani dalle squadre di vertice. Oggi nella Serie A circa il 70% dei minuti viene giocato da stranieri, una percentuale tra le più alte d’Europa. In alcune partite, meno di un terzo dei titolari è italiano. Non è solo una sensazione: è un dato di fatto.

E questo inevitabilmente riduce il bacino da cui la Nazionale può pescare. Le ragioni sono diverse. Da una parte c’è il mercato globale, che rende più facile e spesso più conveniente comprare giocatori dall’estero. Dall’altra c’è un sistema che preferisce l’immediato al lungo termine: è più semplice prendere un giocatore già pronto che aspettare un ragazzo italiano e farlo crescere. E sì, in questo meccanismo entrano anche interessi economici, commissioni, dinamiche tra club e procuratori. Ma il punto non è cercare un colpevole unico. Il punto è che il risultato finale è sotto gli occhi di tutti: meno italiani giocano ad alto livello, meno italiani diventano campioni. E alla fine, quando arriva il momento della Nazionale, il conto lo paghi.

Anni fa, dopo che l’Italia e’ stata eliminata nel 2010 nella fase a gironi, Roberto Baggio ha lavorato a un progetto enorme per riformare il calcio giovanile italiano. Un documento di ben 900 pagine pieno di idee, di proposte concrete, di buon senso. Il punto centrale era semplice: serve un piano nazionale, una visione condivisa, che metta al centro il talento e la crescita dei giocatori, non il risultato immediato. Quel lavoro, però, è rimasto in gran parte ignorato. Baggio si e’ praticamente dimesso dal ruolo di consigliere. E questo dice molto.

Il paradosso è che il talento in Italia non è mai mancato. Basta guardare la nostra storia. Abbiamo avuto Andrea Pirlo, lo stesso Roberto Baggio, Francesco Totti, Alessandro Del Piero. Giocatori capaci di inventare calcio dal nulla. Un passaggio filtrante impossibile, un colpo di tacco che manda in porta un compagno, un assist senza guardare, un pallonetto che umilia il portiere. Oggi queste giocate si vedono sempre meno. Non perché siano scomparse, ma perché sempre meno giocatori vengono incoraggiati a provarle.

E infatti i risultati si vedono. Le difficoltà della nazionale, le delusioni, le eliminazioni che fanno male. Non sono incidenti. Sono conseguenze.

Ma attenzione: non è tutto da buttare. Anzi. Ed è qui che voglio parlare a chi, come me, ha radici italiane ma vive magari in America, a chi si sente parte di questa cultura anche a distanza. Perché è facile dimenticare, nei momenti difficili, da dove veniamo.

Noi veniamo da una storia pazzesca. L’Italia ha vinto quattro Coppe del Mondo, nel 1934, 1938, 1982 e 2006. Ha vinto due Europei, nel 1968 e nel 2021. Siamo una delle nazionali più vincenti e rispettate della storia del calcio. Non è un dettaglio, è identità. È orgoglio nazionale.

E quell’Europeo del 2021 non è stato un miracolo. È stato il risultato di un gruppo che, per un momento, ha ritrovato entusiasmo, qualità, coraggio. Ha giocato senza paura. Ha rischiato. Ha anche, a tratti, inventato.

Questo vuol dire che si può tornare. Non è un problema genetico, non è che “non siamo più capaci”. È una questione di scelte.

Serve riportare il calcio alla sua essenza, soprattutto nei giovani. Lasciare i bambini liberi di sbagliare, di provare, di divertirsi. Permettere loro non solo di saltare l’uomo, ma di tentare un pallonetto, un colpo di tacco, un passaggio di fantasia senza guardare, una giocata che nasce dall’istinto. Serve formare allenatori che capiscano questo. Serve una federazione che abbia il coraggio di cambiare davvero e far giocare piu’ italiani in serie A.

Io continuo a giocare le mie partite amichevoli. E ogni tanto provo ancora a fare qualcosa di diverso: un dribbling, un pallonetto, un passaggio di fantasia che magari non mi riesce più come una volta. Ma quando succede, per un attimo torno a essere quel ragazzino di Monteverde sgridato dalla mamma. E penso che il calcio, in fondo, dovrebbe essere ancora quello. Se riusciremo a ricordarcelo, se avremo l’umiltà e l’intelligenza di cambiare alcune cose, allora forse questo non è un declino inevitabile, ma solo una fase.

Perché il talento in Italia non è mai finito. Deve solo essere lasciato libero di esprimersi. E magari, la prossima volta che un ragazzino prova a saltare l’uomo o fare un passaggio azzardato… invece di urlargli “smettila o passa!”, l’allenatore dalla panchina invece avrà il coraggio di gridare: ”Bravissimo. Riprovaci!”

The post The Game I Know: The Azzurri and a Call to Set Talent Free appeared first on Italian Sons and Daughters of America.

On behalf of the Italian American community, I extend my heartfelt congratulations to our Vice President John Viola, and his parents, Vincent and Teresa, on winning this year’s Kentucky Derby.

The Viola family’s horse, “Golden Tempo,” a 23-to-1 long shot, stunned the racing world by winning the Derby on Saturday afternoon.

This victory, coupled with the family’s two recent Stanley Cup Finals championships with the Florida Panthers, cements their place among America’s most successful forces in sports.

Watch the incredible photo finish below:

It’s especially meaningful to see the Viola family achieve such success, given their generosity and leadership within the Italian American community.

John has truly become one of the most prominent and influential Italian American figures in the nation. He serves as National Vice President of the Conference of Presidents of Major Italian American Organizations (COPOMIAO), NYC District Vice President of ISDA, founder and host of the Italian American Podcast, and co-founder and Chair of the Italian American Future Leaders (IAFL) program.

Working with John has given me a firsthand appreciation of his passion for our heritage, and of all he does to preserve and promote it.

John’s parents, Vincent and Teresa, have been instrumental in the rise of the Italian American Future Leaders program, generously opening the Amerant Bank Arena in South Florida for IAFL events and providing VIP hospitality and thoughtfully curated event programming for participants.

The Viola family stands as a pillar of excellence in the Italian American community. They set an outstanding example for all of us to follow. We take pride in their accomplishments, and wish them continued success.

Sincerely,

In 1930, immigrant families banded together to create the Italian Sons and Daughters of America (ISDA), now one of the most prominent and financially successful Italian American organizations in the nation. In the last decade, we built a 730,000-strong social media community, grew our not-for-profit fraternal association, ISDA Financial Life, to nearly a half billion dollars in member assets, co-founded the Russo Brothers Italian American Filmmaker Forum (RBIAFF), and launched the fastest-growing Italian American publication (La Nostra Voce). 

The post Viola Family Captures Kentucky Derby in Stunning Long Shot Victory appeared first on Italian Sons and Daughters of America.

In a few short days, the Winter Olympics will arrive in Italy, with events spread across Milan, Cortina d’Ampezzo, (pictured above) and the dramatic sweep of the Italian Alps. For a few weeks, the world’s attention will focus on medals, records, and ceremonies. But long after the final podium is cleared, what will linger is something far more enduring: Italy itself.

Because Italy does not merely host events. It absorbs them, reshapes them, and folds them into its own layered story. The Olympics may come and go, but Italy remains—complex, beautiful, contradictory, and deeply human.

A Landscape Made for Drama

Northern Italy in winter feels almost theatrical. The Dolomites rise like sculpted stone cathedrals, their pale limestone faces catching the low winter sun and glowing pink at dusk, a phenomenon locals call enrosadira. These mountains are not simply a backdrop; they are characters in the story. For centuries, they have shaped how people live, build, eat, and move.

Cortina d’Ampezzo, long known as the “Queen of the Dolomites,” carries a quiet confidence earned over generations. It has hosted royalty, artists, climbers, and skiers long before Olympic planners arrived. There is an elegance here that feels unforced—wooden chalets, iron balconies, and cafés where espresso is taken seriously even in sub-zero temperatures.

Meanwhile, Milan sits at the other end of the spectrum. Fast, modern, design-obsessed, and industrious, it is Italy’s engine room. Snow is rare, but winter sharpens the city’s edges: tailored coats, fog-softened streets, trams slicing through the cold air. Hosting parts of the Olympics here feels symbolic—Italy showing not just its postcard beauty, but its contemporary pulse.

Italy’s Relationship With Time

One of the most fascinating things about Italy is its refusal to rush, even when the world demands speed. Infrastructure projects may move slowly. Bureaucracy can feel eternal. And yet, this relationship with time is part of Italy’s strength.

When the Olympics arrive, they will land in places that already carry centuries of memory. Roman roads still underpin modern highways. Medieval towns sit a short drive from ultramodern stadiums. Churches built before the concept of “nation-states” still ring their bells on schedule.

Italy does not erase the past to make room for the future—it stacks the future on top of it.

This layering will be visible everywhere during the Games. Athletes will compete in cutting-edge venues, then walk out into towns where recipes, dialects, and customs have been passed down through generations. The contrast is not jarring; it is quintessentially Italian.

Food as Cultural Language

Any global event in Italy inevitably becomes a conversation about food—not because Italians are showing off, but because food is how Italy communicates.

In the north, winter cuisine is hearty and rooted in survival as much as pleasure. Polenta, slow-cooked until creamy. Canederli (bread dumplings) floating in broth. Game meats, mountain cheeses, butter replacing olive oil as the fat of choice. These dishes reflect altitude, climate, and history more than trends.

Visitors arriving for the Olympics may expect spectacle, but what they’ll remember is the warmth of a meal after the cold. A bowl of pasta eaten slowly. A glass of local wine poured without ceremony. The realization that in Italy, nourishment is never just physical—it’s social, emotional, and deeply tied to place.

Even Milan, often seen as business-first, reveals itself through food: risotto alla milanese glowing with saffron, ossobuco simmered patiently, aperitivo culture turning early evenings into communal rituals. The Olympics may bring crowds, but Italians will still pause for lunch.

They always do.

Style Without Performance

Italy is famous for style, but what’s often misunderstood is that Italian style is not about spectacle—it’s about instinct. In winter especially, this becomes clear. Wool coats are cut to last decades. Scarves are wrapped, not arranged. Boots are chosen because they work, then happen to look good.

During the Games, cameras will capture crowds bundled against the cold, and Italy’s fashion sensibility will quietly assert itself. Not flashy. Not loud. Just assured.

Beyond the Closing Ceremony

When the Olympic flame is extinguished, Italy will remain much as it was before—because it has endured empires, wars, renaissances, and revolutions. A sporting event, no matter how grand, is simply another chapter.

What the Winter Olympics truly offer is an invitation: to look past the event and into the country hosting it. To see Italy not as a destination, but as a way of living. To understand that beauty can coexist with imperfection, that history can be alive, and that progress doesn’t require forgetting who you are.

On Feb. 6, 2026, the world will come to Italy for sport. It will leave remembering something else entirely.

Read more from Francesca on her travel and blog website: Lazy Italian Culinary Adventures. 

The post When the World Comes to Italy: The 2026 Winter Olympics appeared first on Italian Sons and Daughters of America.

One of the great Italian American success stories in sports — Paul Tagliabue — died this past weekend at the age of 84.

Tagliabue served as NFL commissioner from 1989 to 2006.

Italians are often stereotyped as hot-headed and impulsive, yet Tagliabue was famous for his quiet resolve and control.

In the Arena

Tagliabue was the antithesis of Donald Trump. Where the young developer, now president, was brash, combative and boastful, Tagliabue was reserved, methodical and modest.

The two met in the arena: the winner, Tagliabue.

Trump was one of several team owners to make up the new but promising United States Football League (USFL). His team, the New Jersey Generals, played in Giants Stadium, within the shadow of the New York skyline. Trump was a hands-on owner. He acquired the likes of Heisman Trophy winner Herschel Walker to play for the Generals.

The USFL seemed on the right path to success, a new league to challenge the dominance of the National Football League (NFL).

Yet, after all the hype, work and investment, the USFL sought victory in the courts rather than on the field. The goal: Force the NFL to merge.

In 1984, the USFL filed a $1.3 billion antitrust lawsuit against the NFL. A verdict in the new league’s favor could be the death nell of the NFL.

NFL Elimination?

The USFL, a springtime league founded in 1982, seemed a formidable rival to the NFL. They had lured away college stars such as Doug Flutie and Steve Young, in addition to Herschel Walker.

Trump and other USFL owners dreamed of forcing a merger with the NFL. They decided to switch their season from spring to fall. The USFL wanted to compete for a football audience head-to-head with the established league to make a merger the only future option for the two leagues.

When television networks balked at broadcasting fall games, the USFL accused the NFL of monopolizing the airwaves and filed suit in Manhattan federal court.

At stake: not only billions of dollars, but the NFL, itself.

Team Leader

Tagliabue, then a partner at Covington & Burling, had long served as the NFL’s outside counsel. He was the man chosen by then-NFL Commissioner, Pete Rozelle, to lead the defense.

Where the USFL came armed with celebrity lawyers and television cameras, Tagliabue arrived with a stack of color-coded binders and an unhurried demeanor.

Reporters noted his calm voice, precise diction, and professor-like patience.

Behind the quiet manner was a devastating logic. Tagliabue argued that the USFL’s wounds were self-inflicted: poor management, reckless expansion and a disastrous decision to move from spring to fall play.

His cross-examinations were surgical. He never raised his voice, but by the end of each exchange, witnesses had contradicted themselves. Even Trump’s own testimony, boastful and combative, helped Tagliabue’s point that the lawsuit was a business gambit, not a plea for fairness.

Dollar Defense

After ten weeks of testimony and 30 hours of jury deliberation, the decision came down on July 29, 1986: Yes, the NFL held monopoly power, but, it had not caused the USFL’s collapse.

Damages awarded to the USFL: $1, which was automatically tripled to $3 under the antitrust law.

One juror later explained, “We felt the USFL had a case in theory, but they destroyed themselves. One dollar seemed right.”

That single dollar ended the USFL. Its teams folded within months. Trump’s team, the Generals, was finished. The NFL emerged not only victorious but vindicated, and the quiet lawyer who had saved the league was suddenly the most respected figure in sports.

Tagliabue refused to gloat. Outside the courthouse, he told reporters only:

“We respect the jury’s careful consideration. The NFL will continue to compete vigorously—on the field and in the marketplace.”

He cautioned owners not to celebrate publicly, reminding them that humility protected the league’s credibility. That self-restraint impressed Commissioner Pete Rozelle, who began grooming Tagliabue as a possible successor.

Three years later, the owners elected Tagliabue commissioner of the NFL.

Football Champ

The “one-dollar verdict” became legendary in American sports law, taught in business and antitrust courses as a case study in strategic understatement.

Tagliabue’s method — facts over flash, persuasion over aggression — defined his later tenure as commissioner.

He negotiated peace between owners and players, expanded the league and guided it through two decades of prosperity.

His Italian upbringing, rooted in discipline and modesty, shaped that temperament. He never sought fame; he sought order, balance and fairness.

As one former owner said, remembering that courtroom day:

“The USFL came for blood. Paul Tagliabue gave them logic—and that’s how he won.”

Editor’s Note: Paul Tagliabue earned his BA at Georgetown University in 1962 and his JD from New York University in 1965. He was originally from Jersey City, New Jersey. As NFL commissioner from 1989 to 2006, Tagliabue saw the league grow from 28 to 32 teams, a total valuation from $1.1 billion to over $6 billion, the establishment of free agency, and the player’s salary cap. Afflicted with Parkinson’s Disease, he passed away in his home in Chevy Chase, Maryland. He is survived by his wife Chandler and two children, Andrew and Emily. Tagliabue was inducted into the National Football Hall of Fame in 2020. This article first appeared in PRIMO Magazine.

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In her rookie season with the Indiana Fever, Clark set a WNBA record for most assists in a single season with 337 and she drained 122 three-pointers, narrowly missing the league’s all-time single-season record of 128. She also averaged 25.5 points per game, the highest average ever recorded by a WNBA rookie. These accomplishments earned her the Rookie of the Year award and a spot on the All-WNBA First Team, a rare achievement for a first-year player.

In an appearance at the “2024 Massachusetts Conference for Women” on Dec. 12, Clark said that coming from an Italian family, she had no choice but to toughen up against the older, bigger and better competition: “I always had to find a way to hold my own,” Clark said. “Whether it was older cousins, whether it was the boys I was playing with, whether I was playing other big girls, whatever it was.”

Clark’s dominance began in college basketball, where she became the all-time leading scorer in NCAA women’s basketball, finishing her career with over 4,000 points. She made history by becoming the first player — male or female — to record consecutive 40-point triple-doubles in NCAA tournament play, leading the Iowa Hawkeyes to their first national championship game appearance in 2023. Also while at Iowa, Clark played summer exhibition games in Italy.

Clark’s stats speak to her unparalleled skill and impact on the game. Her records and accolades, coupled with her connection to her Sicilian heritage, make her one of the most compelling athletes of her generation.

The 2025 WNBA season gets underway this May.

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Colavito, a Bronx native and Yankee alum but a Cleveland Indian through and through, was 91 years young when he passed away in his home in Bernville, Pa., on Dec. 10, 2024.

The slugger made the cover of TIME magazine in 1959, he hit 374 home runs in his 14-year career and he was happy to sign autographs. For Italian Americans of his era, Colavito was more than a baseball star — he was a symbol of acceptance in a nation that had long marginalized their heritage.

One of the defining moments of his career — and a pinnacle of cultural pride — came on June 10, 1959, when Colavito hit four consecutive home runs in a single game, leading the Indians to an 11–8 victory over the Orioles in Baltimore.

In what could be described as a hitter’s perfect game, the 4-homer feat is so rare that decades have passed without another player achieving it. At the time, Colavito was only the third in MLB history to do it.

“My grandfather and I listened to Colavito’s historic game on the radio all those years ago,” recalled Basil Russo, a Cleveland native who serves as national president of ISDA. “When he hit that fourth home run, my grandfather and I hugged and I saw tears of joy in his eyes. I was 12 years old, and it was probably the only time I ever saw him cry. I’ll never forget what that moment meant for my ancestors who sacrificed so much to give the next generation opportunities they never had. Through Colavito, and other iconic players like Joe DiMaggio, Italian Americans finally felt a sense of belonging. I’ve made it my life’s mission to honor my parents and grandparents, and that all started while sitting at my grandfather’s feet in June of 1959.”

Colavito’s dominance at the plate was undeniable. He hit 41 home runs in 1958 and 42 in 1959, tying Harmon Killebrew for the American League lead while driving in over 100 runs each season.

A six-time All-Star, Colavito became a folk hero in Cleveland, where his contributions to the game are immortalized in bronze. In 2021, a statue honoring him was unveiled in the heart of Cleveland’s vibrant Little Italy neighborhood — a fitting tribute to a player whose impact went far beyond the diamond.

He attended the ceremony, saying “Cleveland is my favorite city in the world. I am thankful God chose me to play in Cleveland.”

Here’s to you, Rock.

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Art Rooney’s name should ring a bell. He was the man who brought sandlot football to Pittsburgh’s Northside and eventually transformed a semi-professional team into the Pittsburgh Steelers dynasty. Beginning with the Hope Harvey football team in the 1920s, Rooney was a player-coach, serving as quarterback while his brothers Dan and Jim played alongside him. Another brother, Vince, handled the duties of water boy.

The team would change into their homemade uniforms in the N.S. Hope Ward Firehouse. Art’s friend, Dr. Walter Harvey, tended to injured players free of charge. Between the Pittsburgh Pirates professional football team and the Steelers, there was the Rooney Reds squad in the 1930s. My father, John; my uncle, Walt Serbiski; and members of ISDA’s Northside Amity Lodge — Sam Ross, Patsy Massacci, and Jim Rubino — played on that championship team. The Steelers emerged in the 1940s, but Northside sandlot football continued to thrive.

My uncle, Eugene “Onions” Mahofski, led the N.S. Sheffield Apaches to several championships, while my older brother Jack and a few cousins played on the Squawker AC, another Northside champion team.

During my formative years, our Northside neighborhood gathered for pickup games of street football. Everyone knew one another, and boys would show up from nearby city blocks. Players were never in short supply, but footballs often were! A discarded newspaper would become our solution, rolled tightly into a 6- to 8-inch makeshift football and secured with black electrical tape.

Our first-down and endzone markers included car bumpers, telephone poles, sewer lids, fire hydrants, and street corners. The playing field was always the width of the street, and without instant replay, we relied on spirited disputes: “You were out of bounds!” or “You never crossed the goal line!”

The Northside Manchester Rams sandlot team sparked my passion for the game at age 14 in the 1950s. We sold booster cards and passed the hat at games to cover expenses, going undefeated in our first season. That year, we proudly sported white Manchester jackets, with “Manchester” sewn above a large red and white ram head across the back.

Northside sandlot football games continued even into my police career, with teams like the Northside Saints and Northside A.C. I eventually joined the Tri-State All-Stars, a semi-pro independent league. In our last season, we went undefeated, using all gate money to cover team expenses — jackets, equipment, uniforms, and banquets.

We even played long-term prisoners housed at the maximum-security Western Penitentiary and shorter-term inmates at the Allegheny County Workhouse. These convict teams never played away games, for obvious reasons, but both facilities provided lockers, showers, refreshments, and comfortable break areas at halftime. The games were always intense, with inmates rooting for our team as if we were the home team. Cheers for good play were common, and louder cheers erupted when one of their own was injured.

This is just a snapshot of Pittsburgh’s Northside sandlot football history. The competition and camaraderie take me back to The Saltworks Football Field (“Fredricks Field”), once located in Manchester’s Northside.

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It was the first of many on Sunday in Paris for Italy’s women’s volleyball team, as they dominated their way to a historic finish on the final day of the Olympics.

• First-ever Olympic medal (GOLD)
• First-ever Quarter/Semi/Final Olympic Wins
• First in World Rankings

The Italians, who had not lost a single set since the opening round, won Sunday’s gold medal match 3-0 over the U.S.

It was billed as a clash between the world’s top-ranked team (Italy) and the defending gold medalists (the U.S.).

The Italians let their star, Paola Egonu, set the tone with her superior opening play (11 points in the first set alone).

Italian flags waved in the crowd at a packed South Paris Arena.

Prior to this weekend, Italy had never medaled in women’s volleyball at the Olympics. They are far from a traditional power. They had never even won an Olympic quarterfinal, according to Yahoo! Sports. 

Italy ranks ninth in the overall standings, as its’ Olympians have taken home 40 medals (12 gold, 13 silver, 15 bronze).

Watch the highlights here.

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