I Think Therefore I Play (11 page)

“Seba, you could have hurt him,” we said.

“Pity I didn’t,” came the reply.

In the dressing room, he’d commandeer all the scissors used to cut the tape that goes over your socks and shin guards. He absolutely had to be the first person to use them. Only after he’d finished were the rest of us allowed a shot.

“If we change this routine, we’ll end up jinxed.”

Whenever he said that, I followed the old custom of touching my balls, just in case for once in his life he was right.

Back in my Reggina days, the man to keep an eye on was Paolo Foglio.
³⁹
He couldn’t sleep unless he’d balanced his trainers against the wall, one on top of the other with the toes pointing down. A real feat of geometry.

It was funny to watch these guys tackling their various demons. To me, it seemed a complete waste of time. Superstitions tend to begin when something goes wrong. For a goalkeeper, it might be letting in too many goals. For a striker, a temporary inability to find the back of the net. For Inzaghi, a sudden strike at the Plasmon factory.

I manage to keep my head even in difficult times which, fortunately, have been few and far between. I reckon that people looking on from outside are pleased to see a pretty normal guy without too many excesses. I like it when I hear parents tell their kids: “Pirlo’s got his head screwed on. Follow his example.”

You can be a good player, a really good player, without going overboard on the pitch. You don’t have to have a crazy haircut to be a point of reference for the team. I don’t even really like tattoos, although I’ve actually got three small, well hidden ones: my son Niccolò’s name in Chinese letters on my neck; an ‘A’ for his sister Angela just below, and my wife Debora’s name on my ring finger, covered by my wedding band.

They’re invisible to others: some sentiments should belong to me alone. I feel them on my skin. I want them on my skin.

Compared to every other team I’ve played in, superstitious folks are thin on the ground at Juventus. Conte’s very religious: before he goes onto the pitch, he’ll kiss a crucifix and statuettes depicting saints, then move onto the Madonna and his rosary beads. I don’t think he’d put up with some of the more tribal stuff.

Come to think of it, however, there’s one exception to the rule: our president, Andrea Agnelli. During my first season at the club, he missed every single away game. “I feel sure of victory only when we’re playing in Turin,” he says. “Anywhere else, I pick up negative vibes.”

To win the
scudetto
, we beat Cagliari at the Stadio Nereo Rocco in Trieste. The president wasn’t there, but I’m saying nothing. The guy who pays my wages is always right.

 

35.
Sandro Pertini was Italian president from 1978 to 1985. When Italy won the World Cup in 1982, he flew back from Spain with the team and was pictured playing cards with manager Enzo Bearzot as well as players Dino Zoff and Franco Causio. The World Cup itself was sat in the middle of the table

36.
A club from the town of Biella in Piedmont, northwest Italy

37.
Goalkeeper who started out with Cesena before spending over a decade at Milan

38.
Goalkeeper who played for Roma, Juventus, Inter and Lazio, and was part of Italy’s World Cup winning squad in 2006

39.
A jobbing right-back who saw service with Reggina, Atalanta and Siena

Chapter 14

His uncle was known as the
avvocato
,
⁴⁰
his father was the
dottore
,
⁴¹
and he’s plain old Andrea. A simple title for a special man who’s cut from the same cloth as all the other Agnelli. Lamb by name,
⁴²
lion by nature and never, ever caged. Always free to mingle with the common man.

Andrea is one of us, and one of them – he’s a fan with special privileges because his words have the power to get the players on their feet and into action. The team belongs to him and to everyone: it’s a communist co-operative at the heart of a capitalist state. He pays, the others celebrate, then he can rejoice as well.

Juventus isn’t his plaything. It’s something greater: a family passion, a private property that remains extremely public. A cause that he’s inherited, cultivated, made bigger. He’s a president,
the
president. Coming from the past to build the future. The present certainly exists as a crucial point on the
bianconero
⁴³
timeline, but somehow it’s also fleeting.

The president’s motto is “Work, work, and more work”. The reality is he doesn’t need to but, for him, it’s an insatiable desire. “The only way to win,” he calls it. “The one path that will take you to your most ambitious goals.”

His passion for Juventus is almost pathological. Friends of the club are always welcome, but its enemies must be stopped, as soon as humanly possible. He’s not a nasty man by nature but if you’re against him, you’ll see that side. He always fights fire with fire: any perceived slight against Juventus is a slap in the face for him, and he’ll react. He’ll roar, grapple and hit out, with words that have the gravity of a sentence issued by a judge.

From the team’s point of view, he’s a very kind and caring president. He never raises his voice with us, however things are going. He’ll be there by our side in sickness and in health until death do us part, because he’s married to us and the club. His first thought is for us, and only then will he worry about himself. He loves us and we’re all very aware of that fact.

Just like Conte, he knows what needs said and when, even if his tone is softer and less strident. He could talk about figures like Gianni and Umberto Agnelli
⁴⁴
but never does. He could go on about Michel Platini, Roberto Baggio, maybe even Alessandro Del Piero, but they don’t enter the conversation either.

He’ll never go into detail about a particular dynasty or team from the club’s past. He doesn’t like making comparisons because it might cause embarrassment and that’s just not his style. Many times, however, I’ve heard him say: “It’s a privilege to play for Juventus. It’s a beautiful thing, written into only a few people’s destiny, and you should always thank your lucky stars that you’re here. Everyone who’s played for this club has won something sooner or later. One trophy, 10, a hundred. This club is everything, and it needs to be everything for you as well. You need to be Juventus to the very core of your being, always striving for further glory, for yourself and for the club. Take your lead from those who came before you. Be that inspiration for those who’ll follow.”

One brick and then another: happiness for him derives from a pretty straightforward plan.

Even when he’s talking about something else, it always comes back to Juventus. The season after we won the title in Trieste,
⁴⁵
we were suffering a bit of a dip, and he started discussing the Ryder Cup in golf, another sport he adores. “Boys, there’s this competition that takes place every two years where the strongest golfers in Europe and the United States play against each other. It’s the absolute ultimate, the noblest thing they can be involved in. It’s a real heaven on earth for these guys.”

In 2012 it took place at Medinah Country Club, not far from Chicago.

“At the end of the first two days, the Americans were 10-6 up. They were on the verge of winning and making that ultimate dream a reality. They needed only four-and-a-half points and, for anyone who doesn’t know, that’s not really a lot. The Europeans, on the other hand, needed to win eight of the 12 singles matches to draw level and hold onto their trophy.”

In essence, he was talking about people who wear caps with visors on their heads. Who go about with clubs in their hands and shiny shoes on their feet. Two groups of well-to-do gentlemen out for a stroll on perfect lawns. And yet he had us utterly captivated. He was pushing all the right buttons and we really got into the story. There was complete silence in that room, as if we were all holding our breath at the side of those greens in Illinois.

“During the last day of play, the Europeans pulled off a miracle. They didn’t just draw; they won. Through sheer force of will. And will can take you everywhere, boys. It can tear down walls, give you wings and destroy differences. The Americans were absolutely powerless as they watched the greatest comeback in the history of the Ryder Cup taking shape before their eyes. They were swept away by that force, caught up in it against their will.

“The newspapers over there called it ‘The Miracle of Medinah’. Boys, let’s not give up. Let’s give it everything we’ve got. Every last ounce within us.”

Call me mad, but his words sent a shiver down my spine. Just for a moment, he reminded me of Al Pacino and his extraordinary performance in
Any Given Sunday
, the cult film where he plays an American football coach. Unforgettable words – cinema to make your heart race. I looked at our president and saw Pacino as he delivered his lesson in that husky voice. “Either we heal as a team, or we’re gonna crumble. Inch by inch, play by play. Until we’re finished. We’re in hell right now, gentlemen. Believe me. And, we can stay here, get the shit kicked out of us, or we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb outta hell ... one inch at a time. But I can’t do it for ya.”

And so we did it for him. I went home that night, switched on the computer and began to research the Ryder Cup. I wanted to know more – Andrea had pricked my curiosity and got me all fired up. I learned the names of the main protagonists: José María Olazábal, the non-playing captain. Rory McIlroy, Justin Rose, Paul Lawrie, Graeme McDowell, Francesco Molinari, Luke Donald, Lee Westwood, Sergio Garcia, Peter Hanson, Martin Kaymer, Nicolas Colsaerts, and Ian Poulter. Twelve names on the winning team, just like with Juventus. Our detractors reckon the twelfth man is the referee, but it’s actually our fans. They’re always at our side, at home and on the road. Them, us, Andrea: all for one. And Andrea for everyone.

The president and I hit it off straight away. We broke the ice the day I signed my contract in front of the camera crews and photographers at the Juventus HQ on Turin’s Corso Galileo Ferraris.

“I’m pleased you’re here, Andrea,” he said.

“I’m here to win, Andrea,” I replied.

“Hearing those words makes me happy.”

Andrea made an excellent first impression on me, and I’d like to think the feeling is mutual. It was footballing love at first sight; something that was in no way guaranteed when you consider where I was arriving from.

As I’ve got to know him, I’ve realised we have another thing in common: as soon as he wins a trophy, he immediately wants to win another. He’s never content to settle – he’s quickly learned how you beat the big guns.

He’s also given Juventus their old mentality back. It’s one that really used to get on my wick as an opposition player. You always knew that they’d fight to the death and give every last drop of sweat. They’d never hold back: they’d get kicked and they’d get straight back up again. They’d score a goal and you just knew they’d get another one a few minutes later. You’d try to intimidate them and they’d just get angry. And when they were cross, they seemed to perform even better.

The whole
Calciopoli
thing lent a hand to the Juventus team of that time. But to my dying day, I’ll remain convinced they would have won the same number of trophies relying on their own means, without any kind of external assistance.

And that’s why I wore a t-shirt with the slogan ‘30 [titles] won on the pitch’ after we clinched the league in Trieste. I came from a world that went to war with Juventus over what happened but, for me, a title that’s taken away and then not assigned or handed to another team remains an honour you’ve won. If you’re not a
bianconero
, or if you don’t become one as I did, you’ll never understand. Winning that title was a return to normality, a soft landing delayed for several years by turbulence.

It’s certainly helped that Andrea’s a combative president, but also someone with no airs or graces who lives his life like any other man his age.
⁴⁶
He’s happy to stroll about Turin in his jeans and stop to talk to anyone. He answers supporters’ questions, takes their advice on board, listens to their criticisms. He’ll explain where he’s coming from and doesn’t hide away. He lives and breathes the city and understands what people are thinking. I’d love to see him become mayor one day.

After the first
scudetto
won on his watch, he came to celebrate with us at the Cacao club in the city’s Parco del Valentino. He really let his hair down, dancing, drinking and even having a go on the karaoke. I can’t remember whether the song he picked was
Fuck You
by Marco Masini (even though he’s a Fiorentina fan) but I’d really like to think so. A special dedication to those who’d refused to believe.

To us players, he said thanks. “You’re my pride and joy. I’ve been president only for a short while, and you’ve given me an extraordinary gift. I knew we’d become the best in Italy, but I thought it would take us longer. Ah, but Italy’s not enough for me any more!”

In my head, I could hear the Champions League theme tune. Andrea winked at me. Andrea Agnelli: 100 per cent Agnelli.
⁴⁷

 

40.
The lawyer

41.
The doctor

42.
The Italian for lamb is
agnello
, plural
agnelli

43.
Juventus’s nickname: literally the ‘white and blacks’

44.
Famous past presidents at Juventus, cornerstones of the Agnelli dynasty. Gianni is Andrea’s uncle and Umberto his father

45.
Season 2012–13

46.
Andrea Agnelli was born in 1975

47.
A label endorsing quality as you might find on a food packet or item of clothing: 100% Agnello (100% lamb/lambswool)