In the good old days, anyone wishing to get far from the madding crowd could have done worse than attend a match in Serie A. At the time when Juventus were a dominant force in Italy and a serious power in Europe, average attendances at the Stadio Delle Alpi were in the region of 20,000. Famously, for a cup game against Sampdoria in the 2001-02 season, 237 turned up. And no, that is not a misprint.

Juventus were, and still are, in the main, reliant on television subscriptions and this is why the leading Italian clubs elected to conduct individual broadcasting rights negotiations several years ago, leading to a crisis in Italian club football and in some cases financial collapse. Juventus knew that nationwide support made them more popular beyond Turin than they were in the city and while this was no doubt to the detriment of the smaller clubs, who cared? No wonder they had to fix the league; all that revenue depended on them staying top dog, year after year, and the rest had to scramble by as best they could.

I remember discussing how Serie A clubs survived with an Italian friend who is a football writer. “A very rich man picks up the ball and runs with it until the money dries up,” he said. “Then he passes it to someone else.” Throughout this misspent era, Italian clubs were frequently triumphant in European competition. And yet no word on Italian finances from Uefa.

In the meantime, by 2001, Real Madrid had accumulated so much debt (conservative estimates put it at £165 million) there was a fear that the club would go under, or at least cease to compete. And then the city council and regional government fortuitously struck a deal to buy Real’s training ground for £206 million with public money. The taxes of Atlético Madrid supporters, those of citizens beyond the city or folk who had never watched a football match were used to bail out a business that had been living beyond its means for years.

“This will establish Real Madrid as the best club in the world in the 21st century,” Florentino Pérez, the Real president at the time, said. “It will banish forever the cursed debt that has been hanging over us.” And it did.

On the back of the windfall, Pérez launched his galáctico plan. Even now, modern Real owe their strength to being rescued by civic money. This summer it is not inconceivable that they will bid between £60 million and £80 million for Cristiano Ronaldo. And yet not a peep on the dubious way they assumed this position of supremacy from Michel Platini.

When the Uefa president speaks, it is as if only the Barclays Premier League clubs of England achieve success on the never-never. A cynic would speculate that he has an agenda. It would truly be intriguing to hear Platini’s thoughts on Ronaldo’s prospective transfer because this could be the one that rips a crater-size hole in his assertion that Premier League finances are cheating the rest of Europe. Real can afford Ronaldo because they are as good as state subsidised. It is not uncommon. The ludicrous leniency shown to FC Porto by the Portuguese authorities, despite a match-fixing scandal, demonstrates the hold that some leading clubs have over their game at national level.

Juventus are back in the Champions League next season only two years after being proven to have cheated their way to the top. Little outrage from Platini over that, either. He serves his most self-important addresses for the Premier League, a competition that attracts foreign investment because it is successful and has been made increasingly uncompetitive only by the warping influence of Uefa’s Champions League.

Far from being a friend of the masses, Platini presides over the most elitist competition in world sport, one that has turned just about every domestic league around Europe into a closed shop. His big innovation at the Champions League final last month was to drape a medal around the neck of Peter Kenyon, the Chelsea chief executive.

It must have killed Platini to see two Premier League teams in Moscow, but what Manchester United and Chelsea did to reach the Champions League final was not bent, as he suggests, it was business. “The goal is not to win titles but to pay off debts,” Platini sneered, of English clubs. This is bilge.

There is no owner in football more driven by glory for glory’s sake than Roman Abramovich and no owner less interested in making the figures add up, either. And while Chelsea may be a polonium milkshake away from a fierce fiscal reckoning, there are a million legitimate businesses out there, too, that are widely considered to rely on the vision and support of one man; the company that owns this newspaper, for instance. So is that also cheating? When Malcolm Glazer bought Manchester United, he saddled the club with much of the debt he incurred when making the deal and to a layman that hardly seems right. To those in the business world, however, it is familiar and legal. The reason no alarm bells are ringing at Old Trafford is because the debt is manageable and so far the Glazer years have been marked largely by investment and success.

Uefa may wish to intervene, but there are considerably worse business plans. Fixing the referee or government nationalisation, for starters. No doubt Platini will pronounce on the state of football beyond England if Ronaldo proves to be the summer harvest of Real’s protected status. And if he does not, we will know why.

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• Graham Spiers