The confessions of the Olympic silver medalist’s mother: “The most overwhelming emotion in Kitzbühel. The bond with his brother and the coach who changed his life—Lucia Dalmasso’s mother.” Dad Osvaldo: “Humble, respectful, and… vain!”

“When I saw Elena, Lucia Dalmasso’s mom, we couldn’t speak. She was Giovanni’s first coach when I took him to Falcade. We hugged. And we cried.” As the sun sets over the Fan Village in Livigno, Mrs. Irene, Giovanni Franzoni’s mother, still has the silver medal from the Milan-Cortina Olympic downhill race fresh in her mind. Her husband Osvaldo (“but you have to call me Osvi, okay!”), wearing dark glasses “to hide my emotions” and sporting a dashing Gene Hackman-like face, wanders around the area with the family dog. “Of course I’m a skydiver! I was in Livorno!” he says with an innate charm and a slightly theatrical manner that we suspect has opened many doors for him in life. He owns a steel trading company, which he runs together with his other son, Alessandro, Giovanni’s twin. But it’s Irene who has kept Franzoni’s world spinning in the right direction. How did you do it, Irene?

The move—  “I moved to Falcade with Ale and Gio; they were 15 years old. We lived in Manerba; they were in middle school, and at the end of their third year, I asked the principal if there was a sports high school in the area. None. My sons had to study and get good grades in school. Otherwise, no skiing—that was the deal, and it was clear: they had to work hard for it. So, a science-focused high school in Brescia. But do you know what my life was like? I’d take them from Manerba to Brescia, and from there up to the mountains. No, it just wasn’t sustainable. Do you know how many arguments I had with the principal to sort things out? Giovanni had a 7 average, but in his first year of high school they wanted to fail him because of too many absences. Finally, we’d had enough—we took them to Falcade, a sports high school but one that included Latin. Yes, Latin—because my children had to follow a well-rounded curriculum. That’s where things started to change. Elena Valt—Lucia Dalmasso’s mother, in fact—guided him technically.”

The Shin Guards of Destiny—  “My kids used secondhand skis at first, then little by little we were able to buy new ones for races. One year—I don’t remember exactly when—there was an important race in Abetone; I think it was a giant slalom because at that time he wanted to make a name for himself in the technical disciplines. Anyway, when he was there in Abetone, he called me: ‘Mom, I saw a pair of shin guards—they’re beautiful’; ‘How much do they cost?’; ‘Well, 240 euros.’ Look, I just couldn’t spend that kind of money. So I told him: ‘Listen, Giovanni, if you win the race, I’m sure they’ll give you those shin guards for free.’ Oh, he won the race. I’m sure that if I’d given him the go-ahead to buy them, he wouldn’t have won that race. And in the end, they really did give him those shin guards for free! And would you believe it—the company that made those shin guards is still sponsoring Giovanni today.”

“I’m always second, Mom”—  “Before Falcade, he struggled with this a bit. ‘I always come in second,’ ‘I always lose’; even with his brother, Alessandro was always ahead of him. ‘But you have to try harder, Giovanni,’ I’d tell him. That’s why I wanted them to attend a real high school, one that teaches Latin. To instill a sense of sacrifice—I believe many children today are given too much.” Every now and then, Dad Osvi chimes in: “You know what my son’s like? He wants to make others feel good. The people he cares about. He’s good at that—making others feel good. The energy he has inside? Oh, he’s got plenty of it. Just think, we enrolled him in his first ski club when he was four years old because he wouldn’t sleep at night: too much drive, too much energy! But he’s vain, though—oh, he definitely is. Vain about his appearance; he cares about that, you know what I mean? I wonder if he gets that from me?” Dad Osvi turns on his heel and walks away; the question hangs in the air, and Mom gives a smile that looks like a “yes”—but a sweet, knowing one.

Franzoni and the coaches—  “I mean, when we went to the new high school, everything changed; a whole new world opened up. Elena, as I was saying, got him on the right technical track; for two years, she really guided him. Then it was Moritz Micheluzzi who got him hooked on speed. And he kept telling us, ‘Folks, this kid’s got talent…’ I don’t know, he just saw something in Giovanni. In fact, my son didn’t even want to do speed; he wanted to do slalom and giant slalom. But little by little, he was won over. Around age 17, he had a breakthrough: in a single season, he won everything in the world of FIS races—giant slalom, slalom, speed, and the overall standings. So they called him up to Team C, and Max Carca, who coached the 2001 cohort, took him under his wing. You see, even today, Max is like an older brother to Giovanni.”
The Franzoni brothers and the twin—  “Oh yes, yes—as a kid, Alessandro always beat his twin brother. But they grew up together; they’ve always been inseparable—they have a very close bond. Then Gio really took off and started winning himself. Ale became a ski instructor; he works on the weekends because during the week he’s busy with my husband—they run the family business. Ale has a gift: he spots flaws, technical errors, and details that others don’t see. He has a degree in business administration, but Giovanni is constantly asking him to watch the videos and tell him what he thinks. Tweak this, change that—little things Gio needs to run by him. One asks, the other says—but we have a special bond.”
Kitzbühel and Bormio—  “How did I feel when he won silver? Nothing… I mean, I didn’t really realize what he’d actually done. Then I was way up there in the stands—though they put us way too high up, eh…—so I didn’t feel the emotion right away. But I was devastated in Kitzbühel, the day he won the downhill. I saw him from below looking for me with his eyes, so I knew he needed a hug. Because when he was a kid, he’d always tell me, ‘Mom, I want to win in Kitzbühel.’ That day, I really felt overwhelmed by emotion.” His father chimes in, keeping his feelings to himself: “I’ve always told him, ‘Focus on your goals. Be an athlete.’ And he’s good at that. Everyone likes him because he’s humble and respectful—always. He hasn’t changed; he’s always focused on the things that really mattered, always keeping his feet on the ground.”

This is just the beginning for Franzoni—  “Oh, have no doubt. Of course, the silver in Bormio is just the beginning. I know it. Because he’s never been one to settle for less in life; he always wants to give more, to improve—always. Do you know what he tells me sometimes? ‘Mom, I have to win for the sponsors, too; I have to reward them after what they’ve done for me.’ That’s my Giovanni.”