Born from a family of Aromanian shepherds who suffered under communist deportation, Becali’s life is a quintessential post-Communist story—a blend of shrewd opportunism, immense wealth, and a flair for the theatrical that has kept him in the public eye since the 1990s. This is the story of the shepherd who wanted to be king.

From the Baragan Steppe to the Bucharest Elite

To understand George Becali, one must first understand the trauma that shaped his family. He was born on June 25, 1958, in the small village of Zagna, nestled in the remote Baragan Steppe . He was not supposed to be born there. His family, of Aromanian origin (an ethnic group from the southern Balkans), had been forcibly relocated multiple times by the communist regime .

His grandfather, Gheorghe Becali, had originally settled in the Cadrilater region (Southern Dobruja) after World War I. However, when Romania ceded this territory to Bulgaria in 1940 under the Treaty of Craiova, the family was moved to Calarasi. After World War II, due to their alleged sympathy for the Legionary Movement (the fascist Iron Guard), the Becali family was labeled a risk by the communist authorities. In 1951, they were among the thousands subjected to the Bărăgan deportations, a brutal ethnic cleansing and political repression campaign that forcibly displaced families from their homes to the barren plains of the Bărăgan . It was in this desolate place of exile that George Becali took his first breath.

A year later, the family was allowed to leave the deportation site, settling in Pipera, a village just outside Bucharest that would, decades later, become one of the most expensive real estate areas in the country—thanks in large part to Becali himself . Life was modest. The Becalis were shepherds, a trade George learned from his father. He would eventually work as a mechanic at the ICCE industrial platform in Băneasa, a humble job for a man who would later claim to be the “richest and most powerful man in Romania” .

The Accumulation of Wealth: Land, Sheep, and Controversy

The Romanian Revolution of 1989 was the great enabler for men like George Becali. With the fall of Communism, the gates to private enterprise opened. Becali, like many nascent capitalists, started small. Using an inheritance and a loan from the famous Romanian footballer Gheorghe Hagi, he began importing jeans, cigarettes, and soap via truck from Turkey—goods that were in high demand in the chaotic transition economy of the 1990s .

However, his true genius—and the source of his vast fortune—lay not in textiles, but in land. Becali had an almost prophetic vision of how Bucharest would expand. He began acquiring agricultural land on the outskirts of the city, particularly in his home zone of Pipera. As Bucharest grew and Northern Bucharest became the city’s premier business and residential district, these fields turned into goldmines.

By the early 2000s, Becali had amassed a real estate empire that made him one of the wealthiest individuals in Romania. In 2008, Forbes Romania estimated his fortune to be between $2.8 and $3 billion, briefly ranking him as the richest man in the country . While other estimates placed him lower (around €700-750 million), the scale of his wealth was undeniable .

His business practices, however, often drew the scrutiny of prosecutors. The most infamous deal was a 1999 land swap with the Ministry of National Defense. Becali offered the Ministry plots of land in exchange for prime real estate owned by the army. Investigators later alleged that the swap was highly disadvantageous to the state, costing it approximately $3 million in losses. Crucially, Becali did not even own the land he offered at the time he made the proposal; he only purchased it from local peasants after securing the Ministry’s agreement . This deal would eventually land him in prison years later.

Despite his lavish lifestyle—which includes a 1,500-square-meter palace in the diplomatic zone of Bucharest, a fleet of limousines, and a bright yellow Hummer—Becali never forgot his roots . He transformed the three hectares behind his Pipera villa back into a sheepfold, complete with an orchard and a vegetable garden, maintaining a personal flock of sheep to remind him of where he came from .

The Patron of Steaua: A Hands-On Owner

For the average Romanian, George Becali is inseparable from FCSB (formerly Steaua Bucharest). Steaua was the pride of the Romanian army and the only Eastern European team to have won the European Cup (in 1986). When Becali took control of the club in 2003, he injected much-needed cash and passion, but he also brought his unique, chaotic management style .

Unlike conventional owners who hire experts and let them work, Becali acted as the de facto manager, coach, and sporting director. He was infamous for calling players in the middle of the night, walking into the locker room at halftime to give his own tactical speeches, and publicly criticizing his own staff. Media reports consistently note that his “micromanagement style” was often cited as the reason the team, despite generous investment, failed to live up to its potential in European competitions .

His relationship with the club became so toxic that it led to a legal war over the club’s identity. Following a dispute with the Romanian Army over the use of the “Steaua” brand, Becali was forced to rename his team. In 2017, the club officially became FCSB, while a new club, CSA Steaua, was formed by the army and started from the lower leagues. To this day, Becali insists that his FCSB is the true successor to the historic Steaua Bucharest, a claim fiercely contested by the club’s traditional fanbase .

His tenure has also been marked by bizarre transfer sagas. He famously rejected a €7 million offer from AC Milan for defender Vlad Chiricheș in 2012, holding out for €10 million, a gamble that arguably paid off when Chiricheș later moved to Tottenham Hotspur . His management style is a constant source of fascination: part visionary, part saboteur.

The Political Animal: Nationalism, Europe, and Outrage

Becali’s wealth and fame were always a vehicle for his political ambitions. In 2004, he took over the New Generation Party (PNG), rebranding it as the Christian Democratic New Generation Party (PNG-CD). He ran for President of Romania that same year, securing a mere 1.77% of the vote . Undeterred, he pivoted to the European stage.

In 2009, despite being under investigation for kidnapping, he ran for the European Parliament on the ticket of the nationalist Greater Romania Party (PRM) and won a seat . His time in Brussels and Strasbourg was unremarkable for his legislative work but notable for his absence. In 2010, Der Spiegel labeled him the “laziest MEP,” pointing out his poor attendance record . This was partly due to travel restrictions imposed by Romanian courts, but it cemented his image abroad as a dilettante.

His political ideology is a hard-to-define mix of Orthodox fundamentalism, ultra-conservatism, and radical nationalism. He has been an outspoken opponent of same-sex marriage, a promoter of traditional family values, and has made statements denying the Holocaust in Romania . The Washington Post noted his “penchant for homophobic, misogynistic and racist rhetoric” . In one infamous outburst, he threatened to “finish” homosexuals if given the power .

In Romania, his political messaging resonated with a specific demographic—those who appreciated his bluntness, his deep Orthodox faith, and his disdain for Western liberalism. He moved fluidly between parties, joining the PNL (National Liberal Party) in 2012 and later, in 2024, aligning himself with the ultra-nationalist AUR (Alliance for the Union of Romanians) .

The Fall: Prison and Legal Battles

Becali’s sense of being above the law finally collided with reality in the 2010s. His legal troubles stemmed from two major incidents.

The first was the “kidnapping case” of 2009. When his luxury car was stolen, Becali did not wait for the police. He dispatched his bodyguards to find the thieves. They did, and allegedly beat them, stuffed them in the trunk of a car, and brought them to Becali for his own form of “interrogation” . For this act of “private justice,” he was initially given a suspended sentence.

The second, more damaging case, was the 1999 land swap with the Defense Ministry. In May 2013, Romania’s highest court sentenced him to three years in prison for abuse of power in this case, convicting him of illegally obtaining 29 hectares of land and causing the state a loss of nearly €700,000 . Former Defense Minister Victor Babiuc and former Chief of Staff Dumitru Cioflină were also sentenced. The ruling stripped Becali of his parliamentary immunity and his seat in the Romanian Chamber of Deputies .

He entered Popa Albă Prison but was released on parole in April 2015 after serving only one-third of his sentence, having written two books while incarcerated . True to form, Becali claimed the conviction was a conspiracy by the Romanian secret services to allow Romania to enter the Schengen Area, a bizarre twist on the standard political playbook .

The Man of Contradictions: Philanthropy vs. Vulgarity

Perhaps the most perplexing aspect of George Becali is his duality. On one hand, he is the vulgar, media-obsessed provocateur described by the German press as “the most bizarre politician” since Ceaușescu . He sings karaoke loudly in his Mercedes Maybach, has a “strident-yellow Hummer” that looks like a “hybrid between a tank and a garbage car,” and is known for his “provocative, sometimes vulgar” appearances on television .

On the other hand, he is deeply pious. He is a significant donor to the Romanian Orthodox Church, having given millions to build churches, including donations to the Romanian Orthodox communities on Mount Athos in Greece . When devastating floods hit Romania in 2005, Becali personally financed the reconstruction of nearly 200 houses in the village of Vulturul, spending around $4 million. The grateful villagers wanted to rename their town “Vulturul Becali” in his honor . He has paid utility bills for the poor and often stops to give money to strangers, usually with the caveat that television cameras are rolling .

This need for recognition extends even to his worship. In a bizarre 2025 incident, Patriarch Daniel of the Romanian Orthodox Church had to formally ban Becali from singing in the choir loft of the Patriarchal Cathedral. Credințioșii (the faithful) had complained that Becali, lacking any formal musical training, was singing loudly and off-key, disrupting the liturgy . The Church officially ruled that he “does not have certified musical skills” and barred him from the choir .

Legacy: A Mirror to Post-Communist Romania

So, who is George Becali? He is the man who claims he could return to being a shepherd if politics didn’t work out . He is the patriarch of a family of Aromanian shepherds who built a real estate empire. He is the football patron who loves his team so much he destroys it. He is the politician who preaches Christian love while spewing hateful rhetoric.

In a 2006 poll conducted by Romanian Television (TVR) to find the “Greatest Romanian” of all time, the public voted George Becali to number 13, placing him higher than many historical kings and cultural figures . This statistic speaks volumes about the country he represents: a place where wealth, notoriety, and a perceived defiance of the elite are often valued above quiet competence.

Love him or hate him, George Becali has left an indelible mark on Romanian football, politics, and society. His life is a testament to the chaos and opportunity of the post-communist transition. He is the shepherd who conquered the city, and even after prison, scandals, and public ridicule, he remains a player in the game, still singing—off-key, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

Conclusion: The Unavoidable Mirror

In the final analysis, George Becali defies simple categorization. He is simultaneously the shrewd businessman who transformed fallow land into gold, the flamboyant football patron who lives and dies with every FCSB result, the devout Orthodox Christian who builds churches with one hand while dispensing vulgarity with the other, and the convicted criminal who spent time behind bars yet emerged with his public influence undiminished.

To dismiss Becali as merely a buffoon or a demagogue is to miss the deeper truth he represents. His enduring presence in Romanian public life—his ability to remain relevant across three decades of tumultuous change—speaks to something fundamental about the society that produced him. In a nation still navigating the complex aftermath of communism, still searching for identity in a rapidly changing Europe, Becali embodies the contradictions that Romanians see in themselves: the tension between East and West, tradition and modernity, piety and excess, the shepherd’s humility and the king’s ambition.

He is, in many ways, Romania’s unavoidable mirror—reflecting back a image that is at once embarrassing and strangely endearing, infuriating and impossible to ignore. Whether ascending to the European Parliament or descending into prison, whether donating millions to flood victims or being banned from the church choir for singing off-key, George Becali has always remained authentically, unapologetically himself.

As he approaches his late sixties, his influence may wane and his political relevance may fade, but his legacy as one of post-communist Romania’s most colorful, controversial, and unforgettable characters is secure. In the end, Gigi Becali did not just build a fortune or own a football club—he created a persona so larger than life that it became inseparable from the modern Romanian story itself. And like him or loathe him, that story would be considerably less interesting without him in it.