What should FilmAuro do with SSC Bari?

I’ve always been fascinated by the intersection of business strategy and sport—how clubs are run, the decisions that shape their futures, and the fine balance between financial sustainability and ambition. As a Bari supporter, though, this isn’t just theory to me—it’s personal. Watching my club, a team with an incredible fanbase and a long history, stagnate under FilmAuro’s ownership is both frustrating and fascinating from a strategic perspective. This article isn’t just a fan’s lament—it’s an exploration of the business realities behind SSC Bari’s predicament. What are FilmAuro’s options? Why does Bari seem stuck in a holding pattern? And most importantly, what’s next for a club that should be fighting for promotion to Serie A, and then to be a competitive force in it? Let’s break it down.

Bari is not just any Italian city. Nestled on the Adriatic coast, it boasts a rich history, stunning architecture, and one of the most passionate football fanbases in the country. Yet, when it comes to football achievements, Bari’s story is one of unfulfilled promise—a tale of a club trapped by its circumstances, teetering on the edge of greatness but never quite crossing over.

How is it that the club representing Italy’s ninth-largest city, with a total addressable market of around 1.3 million people living in its province, without taking into account all the baresi living in the North and abroad, finds itself languishing in mediocrity? How has one of the most iconic stadiums in the world—the Stadio San Nicola, a colossal, spaceship-like structure designed by none other than Renzo Piano—hosted the 1990 World Cup 3rd place final between Italy and England, and the 1991 UEFA Champions League final (or as it was known back then, the European Cup), but never seen its team play in a European competition?

Adding insult to injury, smaller Italian cities are punching far above their weight. Take Bergamo, home to Atalanta, or Bologna, whose clubs have both enjoyed spells in the Champions League. For Bari’s fans, seeing these cities shine on the most prestigious continental stage feels like a very bitter pill to swallow.

An ambitious past, and a tricky present

To understand Bari’s plight, we need to rewind to 2018. That year, after years of financial mismanagement, the club was declared bankrupt. It was a dark chapter in the city’s football history, but salvation seemed to arrive when FilmAuro, a media company owned by Aurelio De Laurentiis, stepped in and were given the rights to form a new football club—called SSC Bari. Yes, the same De Laurentiis who owns SSC Napoli, a club that has thrived under his stewardship, culminating in a euphoric Scudetto triumph in 2023.

FilmAuro acquired Bari with promises of revival, ambition, and a pathway back to professional football. Initially, hope blossomed. Under the management of Luigi De Laurentiis, Aurelio’s son, the club climbed its way back to Serie B—the second division in Italy’s football system. But then came the twist—the ceiling, the hard stop.

This is a textbook case of Multi-Club Ownership (MCO), a model that is becoming increasingly common in modern football and one that exposes serious competitive and ethical tensions when ambition, governance, and supporter expectations collide. What makes this situation worse is that the two clubs operate within the same national football pyramid, meaning conflicts of interest are not hypothetical but structural: one club’s ceiling is inevitably determined by the priorities of the other. Italian football regulations prohibit two clubs owned by the same entity from competing in the same division—a sensible rule designed to preserve the integrity of competition. For Bari, however, it functions as a straitjacket: promotion to Serie A, the dream of every ambitious club, isn’t just difficult—it is structurally off the table.

Luigi De Laurentiis has gone on record saying that promotion to Serie A—which was about to be reached on 11 June 2023, when Bari lost 0-1 in a dramatic playoff final against Cagliari—is part of his “entrepreneurial risk.” For the fans who fill the Stadio San Nicola, dreaming of glory and reliving past memories of players like Nicola Ventola, Gianluca Zambrotta, Antonio Cassano, such a statement feels like a slap in the face. For them, Serie A isn’t a “risk”—it’s a rightful aspiration, the bare minimum for a city of Bari’s stature.

The feeder club nobody asked for

Here’s where things get even more infuriating. Not only is Bari blocked from achieving its full potential, but the club also operates as a de facto feeder team for Napoli. Promising players who emerge at Bari are swiftly plucked by Napoli, often at prices that feel more like family discounts than fair market value—a dynamic that perfectly illustrates the darker side of MCO.

Take Elia Caprile, a talented young goalkeeper, and Walid Cheddira, the Moroccan forward who lit up Serie B in the 2022/23 season. Both were among the league’s standout players, with Cheddira even reaching the 2022 World Cup semi-finals with Morocco. Yet, Napoli purchased Caprile for just €2.2 million and Cheddira for €3 million—prices so low they border on the absurd for players of their calibre.

The saga doesn’t end there. Caprile, just 18 months after his sale to Napoli, has been loaned to Cagliari with an option to buy agreed at €8 million. Has his value really quadrupled in that time? Hardly. He spent a decent loan season at Empoli and half a year warming Napoli’s bench. The numbers don’t add up—that’s not strategic negotiating, that’s basic asset flipping. For Bari fans, it’s yet another reminder of how their club is treated more as a convenient pawn than an independent force.

The latest episode came in the final hours of the 2025 winter transfer window, when Napoli reportedly tried to secure Mehdi Dorval’s signature without even going through Bari’s directors. It was only thanks to the intervention of sporting director Giuseppe Magalini and his assistant, former captain Valerio Di Cesare—who caught wind of the move just in time—that the transfer was halted. The attempt, brazen in both timing and method, felt like a direct bypass of Bari’s leadership structure.

Adding to the frustration is the club’s financial strategy, which mirrors a shoestring-budget approach more akin to a small provincial team than a sleeping giant. Magalini has described the financial operations as “self-managing”: Do they need to pay €100,000 for a player? They will have to find that money somewhere—usually by selling another player for an equal amount. It’s a hand-to-mouth existence, completely at odds with Bari’s potential and the resources one might expect from a club under the FilmAuro umbrella.

Of course, disagreements between supporters and owners are nothing new in football. Across Italy, and indeed the world, clubs and their fanbases have often clashed over differing ambitions, financial strategies, and sporting priorities. But in Bari’s case, it’s not just a matter of differing visions—it’s an outright refusal to aspire to the top level. The frustration isn’t merely about a lack of investment; it’s about a club being systematically prevented from growing beyond a certain point.

The whole situation in the transfer market means that Bari is evidently appealing for two categories of players: young and inexperienced players, hoping to get fast-tracked into Napoli’s setup, and veterans past their peak, drawn in by the prospect of playing for a historic club with a big stadium and no pressure to get promoted. The result? A squad that lacks balance, with raw youngsters learning on the job—who may or may not have the qualities to excel in the league—and ageing players seeing out their careers in a comfortable environment.

Training facilities fit for a non-league club

If the situation wasn’t already bleak enough, let’s talk infrastructure—or the lack of it. Despite being a city with massive footballing potential, Bari’s training facilities are woefully inadequate. While the stadium is indeed impressive, the players train on a pitch located outside the stadium, and they have to cross an out-of-town road just to get there. Let that sink in for a moment.

For a club with a fanbase as loyal and passionate as Bari’s, this lack of investment is an insult. It’s not just about logistics; it’s about pride. How can you build a winning culture when the very basics are neglected?

So, what’s the play here?

FilmAuro has four choices, each with its own trade-offs.

The simplest and most obvious move is to sell the club. Bari can definitely have suitors—Italian football has been experiencing an influx of overseas investment, with foreign owners recognising the potential of Italian clubs. From American investors backing AC Milan and the Canadian Joey Saputo owning Bologna FC, all the way to the Indonesian Hartono buying Como 1907 and the City Football Group having recently acquired Palermo in Serie B, international money is flowing. And yet, paradoxically, no one seems to be investing in Bari—a club with undeniable potential, a rich history, and the added allure of Puglia’s recent tourism growth.

Reports even surfaced of an interest from the royal family of Kuwait during summer 2024, but nothing materialised. Did they walk away because of Aurelio De Laurentiis’s reluctance to sell? We will never know. What we do know is that—as per Aurelio himself—FilmAuro expects a hefty sum to entertain the idea of a sale, despite the club’s low-value roster, lack of training facilities, and council-owned stadium. For potential investors, it’s a frustrating paradox: a club with immense potential, but an asking price that doesn’t align with its current reality.

Another avenue for the De Laurentiis family is to invest and navigate the regulations: there seems to be a lobbying effort for rule changes, with Luigi De Laurentiis having expressed hope for a rule change in 2025, but it’s going to be complicated and not without consequences—let’s assume Luigi and Aurelio are, at some point, allowed to run Bari and Napoli independently: Bari would be able to reach Serie A, but who would guarantee that Bari won’t keep operating as Napoli’s satellite club?

Maintaining the status quo seems to be the short-term solution that De Laurentiis opted for, as FilmAuro doesn’t seem interested to sell the club. Why? The answer doesn’t lie in branding and market potential: Bari just represents a valuable asset for FilmAuro. The club’s iconic red-and-white branding, its large fanbase, and its historic stadium make it an attractive proposition. But instead of nurturing that potential, FilmAuro seems content to let Bari stagnate, using the club as a safety net for Napoli’s ambitions.

The fourth option—one that sounds unthinkable to many, but is ironically perhaps the least risky from Bari’s perspective—is selling Napoli. The De Laurentiis family has already proven they can take a club from financial turmoil to the top of Italian football. Napoli’s 2023 Scudetto win is testament to that. So why not repeat the cycle? Buy a club in distress, rebuild it, bring it to the top, sell at peak value, and move on to the next project. It’s a playbook that would make perfect business sense—and Bari could be the next chapter. The club has the potential—the fanbase and stadium—and the narrative power to follow Napoli’s trajectory.

But here’s the catch: Aurelio De Laurentiis has made it abundantly clear that Napoli is not for sale. Despite interest from major investment groups over the years, Napoli remains the crown jewel of FilmAuro’s empire. So, while the idea of them shifting their focus to Bari might seem like a silver lining, the reality is more complex. Even if they did dedicate themselves fully to Bari, would the fanbase even accept it? After years of perceived neglect, asset stripping, and strategic ceiling-setting, the fracture between the club and its supporters may simply run too deep.

For Bari’s fans, this is the ultimate heartbreak. They’re not asking for miracles. They’re not demanding Champions League placement or global stardom. All they want is a club that fights for its city, that matches their passion with ambition, that dares to dream.

But for Bari, hope alone won’t be enough. Not while the club is shackled by ownership that views ambition as a risk rather than a necessity.

Last updated (news context): 5 April 2025
Minor editorial clarifications added later; analysis unchanged.