Italian Champion in 1988, Team World Champion in 1981 in Brazil (first among Italians ahead of Toschi and Martinuzzi and third overall after Amengual and Esclapez) and again in 1989 in San Teodoro, Riccardo Molteni was a major protagonist in the Italian and international competitive scene, but unlike other very strong competitors who - after their era of success - were forgotten, he continued over the years to maintain his notoriety intact and probably today he is even more well-known and celebrated than in the golden years of his victories. To understand this enduring fame, one must look for the explanation in Riccardo's natural "charisma", in his unyielding strength combined with his cultured and elegant way of expressing himself, contrary to the rough image of many other competitors. Young people spontaneously see Molteni as a Master, a figure of technically advanced and credible fisherman with a noble demeanor, instilling a sense of security. Many consider him a reference point, and even the less young ones consider him one of the "flag bearers" of our sport, and the exploits in the Champions League with Mazzarri have contributed to enriching the myth of the eternal champions. 

Personally, I have known Riccardo for at least twenty-five years, but I couldn't say I have really "seen him up close", as we have never been close friends and we have only been fishing together once, during the legendary Over 40 gathering. 

The really funny thing is that outside the world of spearfishing, Riccardo and I do the same job. He is an entrepreneur and industrial manager in the engineering field, and I do the same job in the world of telecommunications and I also have a top position in the managers' union, so we are colleagues in every respect and I am also his union representative. However, since Riccardo is a legend in my sport, our relationship started with a certain awe on my part, like the relationship between a great champion and one of his fans. Then, after a number of years during which I became a sector journalist, our friendship continued like that between the champion and one of his reference journalists. In short, we became a bit like Scannagatta and Djokovic joking with the famous "no bad" line. 

The human mind is truly strange. A couple of years ago I called Riccardo in his other role for advice on a European funding issue, and while we were talking about it, we seemed like two different people compared to when - as now - we discuss the topic of spearfishing and become Riccardo Molteni, the legend of the sea, and Gherardo Zei, the sector journalist. Mysteries of the psychology of human beings! 

But let's get back to our friendship linked to the common passion for the sea. Before 2000, I didn't know Riccardo personally. I don't think I'm wrong in saying that we saw each other for the first time at the dinner of the legendary "Over 40 gathering". And the next morning we were at sea in Argentario on a polar day of sleet, packed on a rubber boat where, in addition to Molteni and the undersigned, there were Ramacciotti, Antonini, and Casini. I have recounted many times the slaughter of sea bass that suddenly materialized along the Promontory as they fled from a fish farm. And the ending was a photo with generous strings taken by Riccardo himself, who was wearing some kind of "Polynesian skirt of sea bass" over his belt while - fighting against the rolling of a strong backwash - he balanced himself like a gondolier unexpectedly out of the lagoon. 

This was before an anomalous wave caused by another rubber boat arrived. Riccardo lost his balance on the gunwale and on the tube - which had been made slippery by an unimaginable amount of fish - and flew backward into the water, giving the impression of hitting the engine. We rushed to the stern shouting worriedly. We could also hear Riccardo shouting and we were even more worried because of that. Instead, we saw him unscathed in the water still holding the camera tightly and shouting, "give me a mask! The sea bass, the sea bass! Give me a mask!" He had lost the sea bass skirt in the impact and all he wanted was a mask to catch them again. Between relief and laughter, done and done, the sea bass were recovered and we headed back triumphantly. On land, everyone had caught at least some sea bass and, coming together, with wet wetsuits in the sleet, we experienced a moment of great collective empathy on the docks of Porto Santo Stefano. In front of a few chilly passers-by, we were dozens of fishermen with our sea bass and each with their own story to tell. Champions and ordinary fishermen, finally united. We were the "brothers of the coast". 

Certainly, I find it difficult to put in chronological order the times when my pen crossed the many adventures of the great Sicilian champion. But perhaps it is not so important because it is the story of a great passion that, as such, should not be ordered like a "Bignami", rather it requires an evocative attitude of moments to remember. 

For example, I remember once at an Eudi Show (don't ask me which one) where both Mazzarri and Molteni were present and, at a certain point, in front of our Pescasub stand, there was also Pelizzari, who was perhaps at that time involved in television programs. I remember that Pelo was surrounded by dozens of people, while Riccardo and Renzo were standing aside, and I, inside me, thought about how ignorant people are who, without detracting from Umberto's deserved glory, at that moment almost ignored the presence of two legends a few meters away. But then again, this is the law of television. 

At a certain point, Luca Laudati and I came up with a column called "the protagonist", in which, for the first time, we asked the great figures of our sport many things even outside the fishing topic, in order to outline their personality in a 360-degree manner. Speaking frankly about himself, Riccardo described himself as a man in love with spearfishing, extroverted yet rational and cool-headed in difficult moments, but with the risk of becoming - sometimes - stubborn, paying for his obstinacy with some errors of judgment in unrepeatable moments of some competitions. Molteni is a positive man who always thinks that the best day is yet to come, like when he met a young graduate with a bright and intelligent look who would become his wife Daniela in the office elevator. 

As for fishing, Riccardo told me he loves Banco Scherchi (any ascent), prefers sunset, and has definitively converted to spearguns, at least for long guns. He loves days on the boat for deep-sea fishing with a trusted boatman and always seeks the big catch, possibly a grouper or a dentex, or maybe a big gilt-head bream in open water, with all the difficulties that come with this fish. The most memorable days to remember? The first fraction of the 1989 World Championship and the third victory in the Champions League in Astypalea, in 2006. 

If you ask Molteni who the strongest fisherman of all time is, he'll answer: "Perhaps he won't be the most beautiful to watch, but Renzo Mazzarri is a true war machine". And over the years, he and Renzo have truly become friends. There had always been a certain sympathy "at first sight", notwithstanding the rivalry in competition. But the sympathy turned into friendship in two stages, or rather in two dates in the month of July. The first in 2002, when in Paliuri, Greece, he and Mazzarri participated together in the first Spearfishing Champions League, and it was the first competition that saw them as allies instead of opponents (although many more followed). The second in July 2008 when Molteni found Mazzarri at the exit of the hyperbaric chamber of the civil hospital of Palermo, with the timeless Natalino in tow, of course. Since then, the two have been friends. 

Indeed, from a certain date onwards, Riccardo's most notable fishing adventures have happened precisely with his former bitter rival in competition, and I, as a journalist, have had the privilege of hearing from Molteni many times to write compelling pieces about these adventures. For example, I remember one, very original, based on their trip to Dubai, a place not known for spearfishing but which turned out to be interesting due to the presence of numerous wrecks. In reality, Renzo and Riccardo were supposed to go to Libya, but then bureaucratic difficulties convinced them to change destination, and they headed to the fairytale world of the towers of Dubai, ready for a new adventure. Dubai is a place where the desert gives way to artificial islands in the shape of a palm tree and skyscrapers of inconceivable dimensions, like the Burj Khalifa which, at 818 meters, towers over an artificial lake. Dubai is a place where between the 23rd and 30th of November, the temperature is thirty degrees, the weather is beautiful, the current is weak, and a three-millimeter wetsuit is more than enough. Perhaps Dubai will never become famous as a place for spearfishing, but certainly the adventure of our champions made news. 

In recent years, I remember it was like now when Riccardo and I spoke in June 2018 for the participation, with the now inseparable Mazzarri, as well as Riolo and Antonio Aruta, in the Spearfishing World Cup for Clubs in Bizerte, Tunisia. I had the privilege of writing the article for that competition, which did not give the Italian teams the satisfaction they deserved. But what I really remember are not the results and the fish caught by the winners. What I really remember is the story that Molteni told me about a spot they found in preparation but where, then, they couldn't go during the competition. A very particular spot and so difficult to find that, perhaps, it could still be intact. "One day in preparation, at the end of the day - Riccardo told me - we started scanning around 42, 43 meters, but it was all flat until the sounder marked a point: a kind of spike. What is it? Maybe bait? No. We don't see anything else. Was it a defect of the instrument? But, suddenly, there was the signal again. It was late. What do we do? We decide that I'll try a single, quick dive, without a movable weight. We try to calculate a diving trajectory that will take me to the marked point. Once on the bottom, I try to understand, but I don't see anything. The bottom was sandy with spots of compact soil and some seagrass. I lean and start looking at the limit of visibility to see if there is something, hoping to see the shadow of the profile seen on the sounder, but nothing. But, as I'm still, I'm literally hit by a battalion of dentex. There must have been 150 fish that came at me, and I immediately thought that there were all those fish and I wasn't even on the precise point. The next day, which was the last of preparation, we went with the utmost secrecy to look for this place. We found the point again, and the sea was calmer than the day before. I dived diagonally and, finally, I saw it, but it wasn't a rock, it was the bow of a small merchant ship stuck in the sand like the blade of a knife, with the tip pointing upwards. And around it, a series of sheets, ladders, and twisted objects, resting and integrated into the rock, all objects that, passing over them with the sounder, couldn't be detected, while this five-meter-high, very sharp and very thin metal spike was perceived as a simple point (it was difficult to find). So, continuing the dive, I moved towards this wreck's bow and, on the side of the blade, I found a big dentex, a fish of twelve kilograms that seemed still parallel on the side of this bow, but in reality, it was moving very slowly due to the current. I looked closer and noticed that the sheets around were a hellish anthill of these dentex that were slipping in and out from all sides, a Dantean spectacle. Next to this rock blade, two large dentex of 12 or 13 kilograms, oversized fish, were staying calm. A legendary place." 

As Riccardo told us, they didn't manage to go there during the competition due to a series of circumstances, and perhaps the spot is still intact. Who can say? But from what I know, in his positive outlook on the future, I believe that deep down, Riccardo Molteni still has the GPS coordinates clear and thinks that, sooner or later, one day he will return.