Dino Meneghin was the backbone of the Olimpia team which completed the Grand Slam in 1987. The most prestigious win was the one obtained in Lausanne, the first of two consecutive European titles, won by beating Maccabi in the final game. For Dino it was a relief. “It was a revenge, because when we played the final against Cantù in Grenoble years before, I probably played the worst game of my life. Zero points, an incredible thing. When I saw the game later, I got sick. I was the one who had played 10 consecutive finals, but with Varese. Everyone thought that something I would have given to the team in that environment, instead I gave zero. When we won, a few years later, for me it was a personal revenge, and an extraordinary win.”
Meneghin’s had two careers, one in Varese, one in Milan, but in the meantime also a third with the Italian National Team. “When you play for the National Team you have a different mental approach, another kind of pressure, you don’t play for the fans of a single team, you play for everyone, even for those who are not really basketball fans. I understood the importance of the National team the first time I played in Mannheim, in Germany. I went there in a somewhat reckless way, but then I saw this gym packed by Italian workers abroad. They had the flags, they were all dressed well, suits, ties, looking like they were attending a wedding. We won the tournament and they carried us off the court. I still have a photo of me, thin as a nail, carried away by two fans. Then the next day we had to get back to Italy by train and they took us to the station with flowers. While we were leaving, they greeted us crying and told us to say goodbye to Italy, which was missing very much. Since then, when I went abroad, I was looking for the tricolor flags and I thought that I had to play for those people. With the National Team you feel the moral weight to represent a nation.”
Along a career spanning almost 30 years, Meneghin has faced opponents of all types, size and quality, embracing different generations of opponents. “The problem is that the farther we went, the more these “bastards” improved, they were taller, bigger, more athletic and faster. The one who made me struggle the most was Vladimir Tkachenko, a Russian of 2.20 mt, 140 kilos, which was also fast. He physically put me on the cross, it was like guarding a four-door cabinet, when you had finished circling around it, the first half was over. Then my idol, Cresimir Cosic, who could play five positions, from the point-guard to the center, very skilled. He was my idol: I tried to imitate him, but with no success. Then Arvydas Sabonis: I met him at the end of my career and at the beginning of his career. The first time, we went to their home, with Milan, and everyone talked to me about this Sabonis, strong, 18 years old, a beast, fast. We leave the locker room and he is not there. I say, thank goodness, I’m skipping this. Instead, he arrived at the very last moment, with his handbag, changed clothes in five minutes and went right to the court. At one point, we miss a shot and they go on a break. He is four or five meters ahead of me. He goes up to score and had a whole arm over the rim and bam, he dunks. I said “this guy is really something”. And he proved it. But I also met a Chinese of 2.40, a Korean of 2.40, a Turk named Alp who in fact it looked like a mountain in the Alps.”
Another anecdote concerns Manute Bol. “He played in Forlì briefly and met him with poor Massimo Mangano at the Italian league presentation, at La Scala in Milan. I spot them, we are early, Bol was 2.35-2.40, Mangano was 1.70, perhaps, when he wore heels, and I invite them to have a coffee. I enter a bar first. The waiter, with the tray in his hand, looks at me with his mouth open. I say “Wait till you see what comes in now …” When we left the waiter was still there, holding the tray. Think against who I had to play”.
