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One hundred years ago.

Angelo Moratti was born in Somma Lombardo in the province of Verona on 5 November 1909. Like few others, he would go on to become an unforgettable person. Not only for those who lived with him the years of the Great Inter, but also for Italian industry, for the city of Milan, for everybody.

It was his wife Erminia who led him to support Inter, one Sunday when the Nerazzurri faced Lazio. Years later came the decision to become President of the club. It was midway through the 1950s, ten years after the war that Italy had done everything to leave behind. Italy and, above all, Milan, the symbolic city of the reconstruction, thanks to men like him. An oilman, he believed in oil, which was still a long way from being discovered in the era that he was born.

In 1955, the year in which he became President, he ran a refinery in Sicily and a coal-burning power plant in Umbria. It apparently seemed hard to fit in a third commitment, but he knew how to manage time and his energy without ever being tempted to hold back. It must have been a contagious energy.

They said that he always knew how to positively impact others, both his collaborators and family. He knew how to make people feel important.
He didn't win straight away. He learned to win. They would go on to say that every industrialist should try an experience in football because it is a powerful lesson of life.

He went on to win everything with Inter. He learned how to choose: the players, the officials and the coach. When he arrived at the end of the learning period he said one day to his family: 'This time I mean business.' And Inter flew to the top of the world, winning an unequalled series of trophies at a lightning pace.

It was the mid-1960s. A million was a million Lira - a lot of money. Angelo Moratti was generous, absorbing, resolute. The players signed blank contracts just because he was there. Helenio Herrera was a great leader, but he was never alone. The President guarded him from mistakes, like the potential sale of Mario Corso, for example. He did it by avoiding it and denying having ever received offers. Jair was a panther, Suarez a fantastic intuition that became reality. Mazzola was a boy who became a man, while Facchetti was the dawn of a legend that would be black and blue forever.

Picchi was a true captain. They carried him on their shoulders with the cups, but it was he who convinced them that they were champions. Football was a different game then. They travelled to away matches by car. So did the President, who was always flanked by his sons Gianmarco and Massimo. They would go to San Siro, always taking the same route, with the radio always on the same station. There was no interrupting the pre-match ritual.
Outside, there was the breath-taking Milan of those years, so familiar and so creative at the same time. Adriano Celentano, an Inter fan, was at the start of his winning singing career, the Beatles were the English parallel of a new art, the Scala Theatre had its first nights, and Angelo Moratti flew over these historical unrepeatable days with absolute elegance and firmness.

Sense of family was mirrored in the still images of those times. Lady Erminia, Gianmarco, Massimo, the beautiful sisters, Natalino. Each one had their own story, but Inter united them all.

When he announced the change of ownership, allowing Ivanoe Fraizzoli to inherit Inter, he expressed his enormous regret at leaving something so loved, not only by him, but also by the fans. He said his greatest regret was leaving those same people who inspired him in 1955 when he decided to take over Inter.
Milan has changed. And it has changed a lot. Football has a different rhythm to that of the sixties. And many things have happened since. But the memory is not regret, it is a source of knowledge. If we had to sum up the days of Angelo, as the people called him when they met him in the streets, we would use timeless terms. .

Passion. Intelligence. Courage. Integrity. And also imagination, the curiosity of not stopping in front of the most obvious solutions.

One hundred years have passed since that 5 November 1909 that lies at the origin of a wonderful story.

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