The former Lazio center back is on Inzaghi’s coaching staff at Al-Hilal: “We live in compounds and adapt to their culture; we pray five times a day and train in the afternoon. At Formello, they used to call me a spy at first because I’d been at Roma—it’s just a shame I never played for the national team.”
Sebastiano Siviglia’s story teaches us that if your old life reaches out, you take it, even if it means taking a walk in the desert and changing paths. “‘Seba, what are you doing? Are you coming with me?’ Simone asked me in early June. And I followed him.” The former Lazio center-back has become a technical assistant to his friend Inzaghi at Al-Hilal, starting over in Riyadh after a three-year hiatus.
What’s life like in Saudi Arabia?
“We live in compounds where everything is provided. Riyadh is a construction site where they’re constantly building. You have to adapt to their culture. Here we train in the afternoon, not in the morning; there are five daily prayers.“
Why were you out of the game for three years?
”After Potenza, I had a few offers, but nothing concrete. When Simone called me, I didn’t think twice.”
How much has he changed compared to Inzaghi the player?
“A lot. At Lazio, it was a constant stream of jokes and laughter. He and Tare would tease each other. Once, Igli drank two liters of tea in five minutes because of a bet he lost.”
Where does the story of Seville begin, though?
“In Palizzi, a small village in the province of Reggio Calabria. My dad was a factory worker, my mom a housewife. They told me soccer wouldn’t put food on the table. I was studying to be an accountant; if I hadn’t played, I would have worked in real estate. But this ‘lack of interest’ set me free. I started in the Interregionale league, then Parma signed me, but between the ages of 18 and 19, after doing my military service, I thought about giving it all up.”
Why?
“I was registered with Audax Ravagliese. Parma had loaned me out. But the president died, and I was left without an agent. A year and a half of inactivity. I thought, ‘What’s the point of playing?’ One day I called Salvatore Matrecano and offered my services to Nocerina, in Serie C2. They took me on. That’s how my comeback began. One of many. Two promotions in two seasons, the last one to Serie B with Delneri.“
In the end, he made the jump to Serie A with Verona in the summer of 1996.
”And I didn’t even want to go. ‘Now you pack your bags and head to the Bentegodi. Right now,’ Delneri told me. In that strange dialect that only he understood. He was decisive.”
First Atalanta, then Roma. Why didn’t you go there?
“West Ham and Betis wanted me, but the Giallorossi had won the Scudetto. I’d made my Serie A debut against Batistuta’s Fiorentina, who later ended up at Roma. For me, it was like coming full circle, but I didn’t play much. In hindsight, it was the wrong choice. I chose to leave on my own.“
Parma and Atalanta before the second resurgence, though: Lecce.
”That’s where I met my partner and my daughters were born. I needed the warmth of the south. I remember Corvino, a gruff but good-hearted guy—when he got pissed off, you had to run—and a second half of the season where we racked up over 30 points.“
Finally, Lazio. How did the deal come about?
”A tour in Valencia with Parma. Late at night, around two. The phone rings. ‘Hey, is this Seville? Come play for us?’ I asked who it was. ‘I’m President Lotito.’ I was one of his nine signings in a single day.”
Were you met with skepticism at first?
“Yes, partly because of my past at Roma. Some people called me a spy. But time has erased everything. Lazio was the masterpiece of my career. The partner I would grow old with.“
Your fondest memory?
”The backheel goal against Fiorentina in 2010, which I call ‘God’s backheel.’ My last goal in Serie A during my final year as a player. It erased the boos from the year before, when I celebrated a goal against Torino by covering my ears.“
Why did you do that?
”We were struggling, the fans were pissed off. I wanted to tell the stands to stick with us, but the stadium booed me. I was on the ground, disappointed. That backheel against Fiorentina set things right. But if it had been up to me, I would have played another year at Lazio.“
Random anecdotes. One about Lotito?
”The night before the 2009 Coppa Italia final, he called me again. ‘Sebastiano, we have to win.’ ‘Tomorrow, we’ll be the ones lifting the trophy.’ It was the first title of his tenure, followed by the Super Cup the next year in Beijing. I thank Matuzalem because he helped me win a title by scoring… with his nose. A phenomenon. A gangster of technique and grit. A bit of Pirlo and a bit of Gattuso, with all due respect.”
You also wore Nesta’s number 13.
“A source of pride, but Sandro is Sandro. I was one of the symbols of a working-class Lazio that, back then, also made people dream a little. In 2007, we played Real Madrid in the Champions League. Me, Mutarelli, Ballotta, Mudingayi. On the other side were Raúl, Sneijder, and Van Nistelrooy. But it ended 2-2.”
Another name: Paolo Di Canio.
“Before the January 6th derby, which we won 3-1—and which I didn’t play in—he took the team home to watch Braveheart to get everyone pumped up for the match.”
Speaking of derbies. You called Totti a “cuckold.”
“Because he called me a ‘faggot.’ Just horseplay, though: it ended there.” .
Do you have any regrets?
“I would have liked to play a game for the national team. In 2005, under Lippi, I came close: I ended up on a list of 36 names for a tour of the United States. I didn’t go, but I got what I deserved. And then I had Lazio. And Lazio was my life.”
