Madonna’s cone bra is one of the more iconic pieces of pop couture. It was designed by Jean-Paul Gaultier for her 1990 Blonde Ambition tour, and went for £32,500 at auction in 2012. It was not the only memorable garment she wore in concert that summer. On 10 July 1990, two days after the World Cup final, she appeared in Rome and, during her performance of Causing a Commotion, wore an Italy shirt with the No15 on the back. The shirt belonged to Roberto Baggio, who had charmed Madonna during Italia 90. “That goal against Czechoslovakia was marvellous,” she said, instantly providing more insight than some studio pundits of the time. “I didn’t know his name then but that goal and his big green eyes conquered me.”

Madonna was not the only one to surrender to Baggio during and after that goal. It turned the ITV commentator Alan Parry into Meg Ryan – “Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes!” – and made everyone outside Italy realise why Juventus had just paid Fiorentina a world-record £8m for his right foot. From that moment on, at home and abroad, Baggio was the people’s champion – a kind of deluxe, Italian Matthew Le Tissier. He was mistrusted and occasionally humiliated by many high-profile coaches, and won hardly anything. But like Le Tissier, he made up for the lack of medals with the intangible adoration of millions.

His most famous goals were gorgeous solo runs in which his movement was so smooth and knowing that grizzled defenders could not lay a foot on him, never mind the ball. Yet we have always had a soft spot for his strike against Internazionale in 1991-92, which demonstrated so much of what made him great. The ability to play in his own personal time zone; the languid, slow-motion style; the velvet grace; and – well, he is a Buddhist - the Zen-like calm.

‘PLAY THAT ONE AGAIN AND AGAIN’

In 1990-91 Juventus finished seventh, their lowest position for 39 years. The return of the great Giovanni Trapattoni, who won six titles and the European Cup in his first spell with Juventus before spending five years at Inter, had the expected impact. When they visited San Siro to play Inter on 26 April 1992, Juventus had 42 points from 29 games, a fine return in the days of two points for a win. The problem was that Fabio Capello’s Milan side were in the process of going unbeaten throughout the season, so Juventus were six points behind with five games to go.

Inter were having a post-Trapattoni lull and would eventually finish eighth, but a defence that included Giuseppe Bergomi, Ricardo Ferri and Andreas Brehme was very hard to break down, especially at home: they had conceded only six goals in 14 games and were unbeaten – even if 10 of the 14 matches had been drawn, six of them 0-0. One of the great fantasy season tickets, this.

Juventus produced one of their best performances of the season to win 3-1, with Baggio scoring twice and Toto Schillaci adding a rare post-Italia 90 goal. He also played a significant part in Baggio’s second without even touching the ball.

Serie A would change forever after the backpass law was introduced a couple of months later (this is still one of our favourite periods in football history; the average goals per game is Serie A was regularly around 2.25 per season, but the backpass law caused such panic that in the first month of the season the scores included 3-3, 4-4, 4-5, 3-7, 7-1 and 5-2). In April 1992, however, catenaccio was still king. The dominant approach was beautifully defined a few years later by the Dutch art director Rudi Fuchs in David Winner’s Brilliant Orange. “The Italians welcome and lull you and seduce you into their soft embrace, and score a goal like the thrust of a dagger.”

Baggio was an expert in killing teams softly, with a dagger sheathed in silk. To vary a quote from Richie Benaud about Sir Frank Worrell’s batting, Baggio was rarely so boorish as to run; he floated across the ground, and treated the ball in a manner that Brian Clough must have loved.

Roberto Baggio in action for Juventus during the 1991-92 season Photograph: MARKA / Alamy Stock Photo/Alamy Stock Photo

The goal came from an Inter attack. They had a free-kick on the halfway line, which was lumped into the box and half cleared to the right-midfielder Alessandro Bianchi. He overran the ball and lost it to Baggio, who was halfway inside the Juventus half. With his first touch Baggio did two jobs, winning the ball and starting the counter-attack with a simple pass to Schillaci.



He positioned himself to receive Schillaci’s instant return and started to mosey towards the Inter goal. He lent the ball to the left-winger Paolo Di Canio, who took one touch, waited for Bianchi to come across and then returned the ball to Baggio. When he received Di Canio’s pass, Baggio was 10 yards inside the Inter half, to the left of centre, with only the referee between him and the gathering ranks of defenders near the edge of the box. His first touch pushed the ball pointedly into that space, a statement of intent to put hurt on Inter, and two more touches took him to within 30 yards of goal.

The big picture in front of him – a brick wall of defenders – remained the same throughout, but the details were changing all the time as players zig-zagged around. As they did so, Baggio’s instinctive intelligence started to come up with a plan. When Bergomi and Ferri came to meet him, Baggio played a short angled pass into Pierluigi Casiraghi on the edge of the D. The pass was like a starting gun; the split-second he played it, Baggio broke into a sprint for the first time, darting away from the play to the left as all the defenders were drawn towards Casiraghi.

At the same time, Schillaci cleared the space with an angled off-the-ball run that took Sergio Battistini out of the game. The most precious part was Casiraghi’s. He had only a split-second to realise what Baggio and Schillaci were doing, then to open his body and cushion a precise wall pass that bisected all five defenders. It was only after that blur of dizzying movement that Inter’s players realised the real danger was behind rather than in front of them that Baggio was 10 yards from goal and in his own postcode. How did that happen? How did he get there? What day is this?

A watertight defence had been shattered in a couple of seconds. All three parts, the runs of Schillaci and Baggio and Casiraghi’s return pass, had to be perfectly in sync or the move would have fallen down. Baggio had two touches to set himself – all in good time - before caressing the ball across Walter Zenga and into the net. It was a typical Baggio finish. His accuracy was such that so many of his goals – including all five at USA 94 – hit the side netting in the far corner.

Martin Tyler’s commentary on Sky summed up the elegant simplicity of the goal: “Baggio … Casiraghi … Brilliant … Absolutely PERFECT!” Baggio covered three-quarters of the field by doing nothing more than playing three one-twos and moving into space. Everything was done with the clean precision of a surgeon. Inter didn’t feel a thing.

THE BLEEDIN’ OBVIOUS

Playmakers and No10s are often described as conductors. That was especially true of Baggio, who knew when and how to change the tempo of an attack and loved to subtly vary the established slow-slow-quick approach of Italian football - or produce a perfect crescendo like he did against Inter.

You didn’t need to wait for the replay to see Baggio in slow-motion, though he looked even better when you did. Baggio didn’t waste energy or ideas; he believed in a different kind of crowd-pleasing gesture. Genius is often defined by simplicity and economy rather than extravagance; Baggio’s greatest trick was to combine that with an unhurried approach. He loved to let an attack marinate.

Roberto Baggio won the Ballon d’Or in 1993 Photograph: MARKA / Alamy Stock Photo/Alamy Stock Photo

That quality is even more refreshing now, such is the tediously hectic nature of modern society. This might be the main reason why it feels like Baggio has aged as beautifully as any player of his generation. Even when he was sprinting, Baggio appeared to have the awareness of a man who could freeze time. The sudden dart as he plays the ball to Casiraghi demonstrates a player who knew what was happening but also what was going to happen. He happily let opposing defenders chase the bleedin’ obvious while he concocted a subtler plan at his own pace. Idiot, slow down.

FLOATING ON

Baggio’s approach was not for everyone. In the 1990s, Italian football put away the dagger and started to batter opponents about the head constantly. A more aggressive, energetic approach turned Baggio into a perceived luxury. Capello, Arrigo Sacchi, Marcello Lippi and Carlo Ancelotti all publicly rejected him. That’s a helluva quartet – between them they have won 12 Serie A titles, not to mention seven European Cups and a World Cup – yet their disapproval never compromised Baggio’s public standing. If anything it strengthened it.

“I’ve often wondered why they really wouldn’t consider me, but I never found the real answer,” said Baggio. “Perhaps they were a bit jealous, as everybody used to love me, even opposing fans. Was I stealing the show, denying them the role of protagonists they were desperately claiming for themselves? Modern football is increasingly dominated by the coaches, their narcissism to put themselves above the team and their players.’’

Baggio is a prime example of football’s fascinating lack of sentiment. He packed a career’s worth of drama into USA 94, culminating in the missed penalty in the final. If Italy had won that game, Baggio’s contribution in the tournament would be remembered in the same way as Diego Maradona’s in 1986. Instead he is recalled for being the man whose missed penalty cost Italy the final. The verdict is doubly harsh; not only had he got Italy to the final single-footedly, but the penalty probably wasn’t decisive. Even if he had scored, Brazil would then have had a kick to win the final. Plenty forget that Franco Baresi also missed in the shoot-out; almost everyone forgets that Daniele Massaro did too.

Baggio misses the last penalty in the 1994 World Cup final Photograph: Mike Powell/ALLSPORT

That was not the only cruel moment. In all three of Baggio’s World Cup appearances, Italy lost on penalties. He was a ghost at his only two Serie A title wins, though he dominated Juventus’s 1993 Uefa Cup victory and won the Ballon d’Or that year. He also played most of his career with a bad knee after suffering a hideous injury at 18, when he was told his career was probably over. Carlo Mazzone, the coach whose unequivocal faith allowed Baggio to finish his career with four joyous years at Brescia, thinks that injury had a huge impact. “Without the injury problems and the difficulties with his knees,” he said, “he would have been the very best player in history”. Instead, he was one of the most popular, who had the simple capacity to make people happy. He still does.

“The most beautiful thing about my career,” he said upon retirement, “is the feeling people have for me.” That feeling kept him and us going through the dark times. Whatever football threw at him, you kind of knew Baggio would float on OK.