Trust, Cynicism, and Everything In Between
Lessons from Italian Soccer’s 1980s Betting Scandal

When I was a child in the 1980s, I was a soccer enthusiast, like almost everyone in Italy.
I remember one of the happiest moments of my childhood was the evening when my mother permitted me to start my football player trading card album. I wore out that album, and I knew by heart all the players from all the Serie A teams of that era.
Last night, while I was researching the recent scandal of illegal betting by football players, I came across a documentary that recounted the scandal of illegal betting by football players that occurred in the 1980s, just when I was a child.
In essence, players from opposing teams would agree on the final outcome and then place bets on that result. I felt a deep bitterness when I realized that many of the matches I eagerly awaited as a child throughout the week were rigged. Fake.
However, it’s also true that I didn’t know this at the time, and the passion I felt was pure. What I’ve come to realize 40 years later cannot erase the feelings I had as a child.
But situations like these can occur in any area of our lives: family, friendship, work.
So, the question is: what is the right balance between mistrust, which when taken to the extreme becomes cynicism, and trust, which when taken to the extreme becomes naivety?
The answer I’ve given myself is that the right thing to do is to give trust until proven otherwise.
That means assuming that the people around us are acting correctly until we have evidence to the contrary, and then we must acknowledge, painfully, that our trust has been betrayed and act accordingly.
It’s a courageous choice, but it’s the only one we can make to maintain an open attitude towards life.
Living with constant suspicion and distrust means living as if we’ve already been betrayed, even before it happens.
I’m Andrea from Bologna, Italy. I write about life, beauty, empathy, and lessons learned. To see my stories pop up on your feed, I’d love for you to follow me (Andrea Feccomandi). And, to have stories sent directly to you, subscribe to The Warm Lasagna, my weekly newsletter.
