"Which one?"
"You may not remember me, huh? But I'll tell you — the referee in Amsterdam, two weeks from now, it's Meyer. And he's a good referee..."
"Meyer? Oh yes, indeed, a good referee. I won't forget you when we return from the Netherlands."
This brief exchange, first published in the Milan Sports News on May 4, spread like wildfire across the football world.
The two men in the dialogue? None other than Luciano Moggi, general manager of Juventus, and Pierluigi Pairetto, then vice-chairman of UEFA's Referee Committee. The subject of their conversation: the Champions League group stage match in September 2004.
Two weeks after this conversation took place, in the opening match of Group C, Ajax lost 0–1 at home to Juventus.
When Yang Yang read the report, he was stunned.
What is going on here?
"Moggi… controls referees? Even UEFA referees?"
He felt a chill run down his spine.
It was genuinely disturbing.
The role of referees in football had long been a subject of controversy — never more so than in recent years, especially as figures like José Mourinho had openly criticized officiating in high-profile matches. Public trust in referee impartiality had started to erode.
Yang Yang had his own moments of doubt in the past. But he had always preferred to believe in human error over corruption — that referees simply made mistakes under pressure, rather than acting with intent.
But now, that belief was crumbling.
The Gazzetta dello Sport had published a detailed exposé, tearing the veil off what had been whispered about for years. It laid everything bare: a documented, recorded conversation between Moggi and a top UEFA referee official.
If the story had stopped there, it might have been contained.
But it didn't.
Soon after, Rome's La Repubblica dropped an even bigger bombshell: a front-page headline that read,
"Storm Erupts in Italian Football – Moggi Assigned Referees to Juventus."
Its reach was wider than Gazzetta's, and its reporting went deeper — focusing not only on European matches, but also on the inner workings of Serie A.
Much of the attention turned to GEA World, the sports agency managed by Moggi's son, Alessandro Moggi. Reports described an intricate web of influence spanning referees, media, transfers, and even player representation.
"This is terrifying," someone muttered aloud.
"So the referee world really is this dirty?"
"I knew something was off in that game. Now we know — Juventus set things up in advance."
"This is why we ended up in the UEFA Cup!"
"Unbelievable. This has to be investigated."
Inside the player rest area at De Toekmost, several Ajax players were gathered around a computer, watching the unfolding reports online. Faces once filled with disbelief had now hardened into outrage.
The first wave of leaked information had confirmed that Ajax's Champions League group-stage match from the previous season — the one against Juventus — had been part of it.
Yang Yang hadn't played in that match; he had been away with the national team, competing in the Asian Youth Championship. He had no memory of the match itself. But watching his teammates react now, he could sense the emotional weight it carried.
"This is insane," Yang Yang said, shaking his head. His voice was tight with anger.
Everyone remembered that season. Ajax's drop into the UEFA Cup had largely been pinned on a poor start in the group stage — particularly the first two rounds. Now, that narrative was under a different light.
Of course, no one blamed the referee for everything. Juventus were a powerful side, and both teams had given everything.
Even so, after the referee scandal broke out, all the fingers naturally began to point elsewhere.
"What is all this mess?"
Everyone shook their heads in disbelief.
No one had imagined that such a massive scandal would erupt so suddenly. It wasn't just bad—this was catastrophic for Serie A. Even if the Italian Football Association wanted to sweep it under the rug, this time, it was simply too big.
"Look again. More and more media outlets are breaking the story. And it's not just Juventus being named—other clubs are being dragged in too. This wave… it might bring the entire Serie A down with it."
The Ajax locker room at De Toekomst fell into stunned silence.
If this had come only from one or two Italian newspapers, it might have been dismissed as rumor-mongering. But now, when virtually every major outlet across the country—and Europe—was carrying the same story, citing transcripts, audio recordings, and confidential documents, there was no doubt: something was rotten at the heart of Italian football.
Yang Yang, compared to his teammates, had calmed down more quickly. He wasn't any less shocked, but his mind had shifted elsewhere.
After all, last season's group stage match had long since passed. Even if Moggi's manipulation of referees were proven true, it would change nothing about Ajax's early exit. Time couldn't be rewound.
What really mattered now was how this scandal might affect one person in particular.
Ibrahimović.
That thought struck Yang Yang like a dart. He quickly slipped away from the rest area and found a quiet spot to make a call.
"Zlatan."
"Hey, buddy." Ibrahimović's voice on the other end was rough, uneasy.
Yang Yang went straight to the point. "Is it true? The stuff in the papers? I heard there are actual recordings."
The Swedish striker exhaled heavily. "I don't know, man. I really don't. The club's a total mess right now. No one knows what the hell's going on."
"Moggi?"
"Haven't seen him in weeks. Not just me—Mino's been chasing him too. No one's been able to reach him. Half a month now. He just vanished."
Yang Yang frowned. "Why?"
"Hell if I know!" Ibrahimović's voice was tense. "You know I've been in the middle of contract talks with Juventus. Mino and I spoke to Moggi—he promised a renewal. Told us to prepare the contract. Then poof—he's gone. Disappeared into thin air."
"Mino's been calling him nonstop. One minute he's supposedly on vacation, next minute he's in some important meeting, then he's 'unreachable.' Honestly, I don't even know what to believe anymore."
Even through the phone, Yang Yang could feel his friend's frustration and the tension bubbling beneath the surface.
This wasn't a minor issue. If Juventus's general manager really was involved in referee manipulation, the consequences would be seismic.
And for players like Ibrahimović? Chaos.
"Now the whole training center and club office feels off," Zlatan continued. "You can't tell who's being honest and who's hiding something. Everything feels… corrupted."
Yang Yang nodded to himself. "At the moment, it looks like the main accusation is about referees."
"Come on, man!" Zlatan snapped. "With our squad and Capello in charge, do you really think we needed to rig matches? What Serie A team could beat us straight up?"
Typical Zlatan—unapologetically confident, even now.
And maybe he had a point.
Yang Yang wasn't sure what to believe anymore.
"I keep thinking this has something to do with that Elkann scandal."
"Elkann?" Yang Yang blinked. "What's he got to do with this?"
Zlatan scoffed. "Lapo Elkann. Third-generation Agnelli. Part of the Fiat empire. You know, the flashy guy—used to be Kissinger's assistant. 'Best-dressed man in the world' or whatever. There was that scandal with the drugs and the trans escort. Front-page stuff."
"I remember that, yeah. But what does that have to do with Juventus?"
"Maybe nothing. Maybe everything," Ibrahimović muttered. "Technically, he doesn't manage the club. But ever since that scandal, nothing's been right. I don't know. Something's off."
Even Ibrahimović, usually cool and untouchable, was lost in the fog now.
"Anyway, Mino flew to Turin as soon as the story broke. He's been running around gathering information, but he told me—prepare for the worst. That's all he said. And if Mino says that…"
Yang Yang sighed. "Be careful. Stay strong. If it comes to it, leave Juventus. Helena's pregnant. She needs you focused."
Ibrahimović's voice softened for the first time. "Yeah. September's the due date. You know… sometimes I think about that more than football now."
Yang Yang, along with Maxwell and Vermaelen, had celebrated the news when Zlatan shared it. They were brothers, in football and in life.
The Swedish striker had been brilliant this season, a key figure in Capello's plans. But now, even the brightest future felt uncertain.
"Don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything," Yang Yang said. "Anything at all."
"I won't. You know I won't."
They exchanged brief goodbyes.
When Yang Yang hung up, he stood still for a long moment, lost in thought.
He was just a bystander in this scandal, but someone he deeply cared about was being dragged into the storm.
Whether or not Moggi really fixed matches, whether or not Juventus deserved punishment—none of it changed the fact that people like Zlatan and Helena were now caught in the fallout.
And that was the part that hurt most.
He couldn't change the system.
All he could do was hope for the best.
...
...
In the days that followed, the scandal surrounding Luciano Moggi exploded with unprecedented intensity.
The Italian media, never shy of drama, quickly christened it with a name that would go down in history: "Calciopoli", or more colloquially, the Phone Call Scandal.
Allegations began pouring in—tapes, transcripts, and testimonies from intercepted conversations. Day by day, the revelations became more damning. What had initially seemed like isolated suspicions now revealed a complex web of influence, manipulation, and control stretching across referees, match delegators, and even high-ranking officials within the Italian Football Association itself.
The response from the authorities was swift.
That very day, the Italian Football Association held an emergency press conference and announced the formation of a dedicated investigative commission. Their stated goal: to determine the extent of corruption within the domestic game and identify those responsible.
But before the ink had even dried on the FA's statement, the front pages of La Repubblica, Corriere della Sera, and La Gazzetta dello Sport were already naming names. Referees, linesmen, fourth officials, and even members of the referee selection committee—many of whom had officiated in Serie A and the Champions League—were implicated. Some were respected internationally; others were deeply embedded in the Italian footballing structure.
Then, on the third day, the situation escalated dramatically.
The Naples Public Prosecutor's Office officially announced its involvement in the case. Their entry signaled a shift from mere football investigation to a full-scale legal pursuit of criminal conspiracy and sports fraud. For Moggi, and potentially many others, this was no longer just about lifetime bans or professional disgrace—it could mean prison.
The scandal, once confined to locker room whispers and forum rumors, had now become a national crisis. It spilled out of the boundaries of sport and into the halls of government, prompting debates in parliament and investigations by financial regulators.
For Italy, a country where football was often referred to as a religion, this was nothing short of heresy.
Worse still, this wasn't unprecedented. Italian football had suffered black eyes before—from the Totonero match-fixing scandals of the 1980s to doping allegations in the '90s—but nothing of this scale. This wasn't a handful of players or shady bookies. This was the upper crust of the sport—the architects of power—caught scripting the outcome of matches like playwrights in a rigged theatre.
And at the center of it all was Moggi.
Only… Moggi had vanished.
Those close to the investigation hinted that he had known what was coming. Some even whispered that he had orchestrated the leak himself to deflect blame or settle scores. Whatever the truth, the reality was that no one could get a hold of him. Not the media, not Juventus, not even his own lawyers.
Luciano Moggi, once the kingmaker of Italian football, had disappeared without a trace.
And so, the football world was left to watch, wait, and speculate.
Would Juventus be stripped of their titles? Would Serie A implode under the weight of its own corruption? Would players walk out? Would sponsors flee? No one had answers yet.
Yang Yang, for his part, had regained his focus. The phone calls, the headlines, the chaos in Italy—all of it faded from his mind the moment he stepped back onto the training ground.
Because for Ajax, there was no time for distractions.
The Dutch Cup final was just around the corner.