Carlo Ancelotti (21 page)

“Can we say that you are staying for certain?”

“You can say that I’m staying.”

“How many lies have you told in this interview?”

“One or two, a few, just to defend myself …”

“If we see you again in a couple of months, will we be able to say which of the things you just told us are lies?”

“In a couple of months, sure.”

In other words, I was making it clear, in the gentlest way imaginable, that I would be leaving. Certainly I was starting to prepare for my departure, sowing the seeds for it. I had been taking intensive English lessons for a while, and it was no accident. Three lessons a week, a model student.
The pen is on the table, and my name is Carlo
. That afternoon, I answered the questions with a ferocious expression on my face I had learned how to adopt, because I knew what the next phase was likely to be. An appointment that evening in Adriano Galliani’s office at number 3, Via Turati. Headquarters, once again. A scene I’d already seen and experienced. Déjà vu. The same characters but a brand new proposal (much more than a proposal …). In some ways, an indecent proposal. The proposal from Chelsea Football Club.

“Good evening, Carletto.”

“Good evening, Mr. Galliani.”

His expression was darker than mine, I started feeling shivers running up my back. Shivers of joy, among other things. It was a surprise.

“Listen, Galliani, I have something to tell you. I’m thinking of going to coach Chelsea.”

“That’s entirely out of the question.”

Brusque. Verging on the violent. My vice president was like a broken record. It was the same answer he gave when he refused to let me leave to coach Real Madrid. The same six words—seven, if you include the contraction.

“So you want me to stay?”

“Of course we want you to stay.”

Our meeting continued over dinner, at Da Giannino, the restaurant in Milan where people meet to negotiate contracts and deals. In reality, it was already all decided, but we did our best to work out an understanding: “We’ll make the final decision after the end of the championship finals, so after May 31. In the meantime, we’ll qualify for the next Champions League.”

There were almost two months to go. We were in the big room, the one with the megascreen television. We watched Italy vs. Ireland, Giovanni Trapattoni against Marcello Lippi, whom some people already considered my designated successor from 2010 on, after the South Africa World Cup. I felt light on my feet, even though I looked like a bull, and that was the real miracle. A homemade miracle, just to be clear—not something crafted in the luxurious drawing room of His Mourinho-ness. He, while the game was being broadcast live, was on the Piero Chiambretti show, comparing Himself to Jesus. Forgive him, for he knows not what he says. I do. And I often think of everything that led up to this day.

My life has a specific and illogical explanation. It’s based on the secret of dreams: you have them without believing in them too intensely, and that relieves the pressure. At least at first. There was a time when my idol was Gene Gnocchi, to give just
one example. A number 10 shirt with a comic strip printed on it. He thought with his feet and played with his head. Then my role models changed, I grew, because my progress in Italy was step by step. Put all your effort into it, and you’ll see that something will emerge. As a player, I won four Italian Cups, three Scudetti, an Italian Super Cup, two Champions Cups, two European Super Cups, and two Intercontinental Cups. As a coach, I won an Italian Cup, a Scudetto, an Italian Super Cup, two Champions Leagues, two European Super Cups, and a FIFA Club World Cup. That’s a lot, but the numbers don’t really convey the idea. Pride lies elsewhere, where emotion intervenes. You have to try it to believe. And feel it to live. A normal, wonderful narrative. Between a field and a wobbly bench, I spent my best years at A. C. Milan. So, once again, thank you. Thank you to all those, from Reggiolo to heaven, whom I met along the way: friends, enemies, teammates, coaches, players. To the teams I coached and those I might still coach. In particular, thank you to Silvio Berlusconi for letting me discover a new world and for never telling me what formation to field. And to Galliani, with just this one regret: why didn’t we ever use the informal
“tu,”
why weren’t we on a first-name basis? “I love you, Signore Galliani” is one thing, but “I love you Adriano, man” is much better.

THANK YOU:
to the clubs that thought of me all the way from England. To Chelsea, of course, which was the first in chronological order. I will confess that, beginning at a certain point in the 2008–09 season, I watched a lot of DVDs of John Terry, Frank Lampard, and Didier Drogba. I was already the manager of the Blues, at least on paper. Just like with Real Madrid, a few seasons ago. Me and Abramovich together: things could be worse. Worse,
which is something he can imagine—or actually remember, since he has already worked with His Specialness, José Mourinho …

GRACIAS:
also to Florentino Pérez. As with Abramovich, whose first name is Roman, there’s a bit of Italy in his given name. Florentino. And so it is natural that he possesses the inner art. A conversation with him always has the fine flavor of ancient things. Simple things. Real Madrid fills his soul, occupies his mind, which is candid—in a word,
blanca
. He has always greeted me with the same phrase, which I have already mentioned: “Carlo, someday you will be my coach.” In the meantime, he now has his own original sin: he has only just begun to work with His Specialness.

DANKE:
to Bayern Munich.

 … the list could go on, and it could include certain other people. It’s not hard to imagine who or why. And, as I express my thanks, I raise my eyes, I go back in time, and I remember. When I was coaching in Italy, I often looked at a fire alarm at Milanello. They installed it directly over my room, Room Number 5. On it, there is a phrase in white letters on a red background, and in case of emergency it lights up:
LEAVE THE BUILDING IMMEDIATELY
. On certain days it was turned off out of respect and, when things were tight, out of necessity. Then Abramovich and Chelsea Football Club arrived. The Premier League and the FA Cup. Now I want the Champions League. And I’ll make a promise: if we win, there’ll be a party. And Zhirkov won’t sing.

AS A PLAYER:

Parma A. C., 1974–1979

Promoted to Serie A in 1979

A. S. Roma, 1979–1987

Scudetto 1983

Coppa Italia 1980, 1981, 1984, 1986

European Cup runners-up 1984

A. C. Milan, 1987–1992

Scudetto 1988, 1992

Italian Supercup 1988

European Cup 1989, 1990

UEFA Super Cup 1989, 1990

Intercontinental Cup 1989, 1990

Italian National Team, 1981–1991

26 appearances

World Cup squads 1986, 1990

AS A MANAGER:

Italian National Team, 1994

Assistant coach to Arrigo Sacchi

Runners-up, World Cup 1994

A. C. Reggiana, 1995–1996

Won promotion to Serie A, 1996

Parma, 1996–1998

Runners-up in Serie A, 1997

Juventus, 1999–2001

Runners-up in Serie A 2000, 2001

Intertoto Cup 1999

A. C. Milan, 2001–2009

Scudetto 2004

Coppa Italia 2004

Supercoppa Italiana 2004

European Cup 2003, 2007

UEFA Super Cup 2003, 2007

FIFA Club World Cup 2007

Chelsea F. C., 2009–present

Premier League 2010

F. A. Cup 2010

Community Shield 2009