Written by Zlatan Ibrahimovic and David Lagercrantz, “Io, Ibra” sold 500,000 copies in Sweden and it is part of every fourth household there. The latest news from the co-author is that there is interest to turn it into a movie. What was it about?
A story of a ghetto-kid making it big. The American dream accomplished by a Swedish new face from a war-refugee family. A story on how to protect your own and blast everyone else.
It felt a little different than the other biographies because of its age. I heard it was done through interviews and during the read I got a feeling like most questions came from scandals or YouTube (marvelous addition to the stories if you know how to use it). Some might suggest it was all Ibra bragging about his triumphs and coming clean on selected episodes but he also sheds light on hard subjects like segregation, alcoholism, drug abuse and poverty.
At first it looked like a very honest piece to me. Zlatan talking about what happens behind the curtain and showing this to all who have been against him. After finishing, however, it seems like he picked his fights very carefully. He is very strategic as he says it himself. By the end it seems most of the episodes are him just advocating his point of view to set the record straight and punch out his opponents.
But I don’t hold it against him at all. As weird as it sounds it makes me respect him even more since this is like a first person view to the mindset he has. The confidence/arrogance he wears. He shows the attitude that is needed to carry on. Deep down I see a man who understands his faults but plays on his strengths. The most similar thing I’ve read is Salvador Dali’s “Diaries of a Genius”. Similarly, he criticizes everybody else while talking about his own grace although he has earned his spot in the history with such attitude. And if van Basten (another figure making a supportive role in the book) was called Leonardo da Vinci, Zlatan can take the odd-mustached egocentric place in his art.
The much furored book is everything you wanted it to be. To his followers it was like a bible, to his haters there was a sentence on every page to be ripped out and put into their context or logic. That’s what Zlatan is all about – hard to ignore, polarizing figure, unquestioned champion.
All pictures are from Bring Your Sister which is the best blog/site/place for picture-loving Ibraholics.
“Ehhhhh ohhhhhhh Antonio Cassano” and “Ce solo un diavolo, Fantantonio!” are chants heard regularly in San Siro. I only know one other guy who has two different corri from the Curva Sud and his name is Rino Gattuso, the immense warrior and ultimate San Siro fan favorite – along with Pippo – that is also out with an eye injury, and so we’d like to take this opportunity to send him our best wishes as well.
Cassano has spent a little less than a year with Milan, but already his impact has been huge. But that’s the sort of person Cassano is, he touches people. Milanisti everywhere have such fond memories of him that one would think he had spent a decade with Milan! Topping the assist charts in Italy so far this season and his fine goals show that he’s an extraordinary player. His thumb-sucking celebration shows the father and the family man in him. His relationship with the Curva and his closeness to his team-mates in such a short time, as demonstrated by the group “rock the baby” celebration when he had his child, truly reveal how much of a lovable person he is. He also has a crazy side, famously known as Cassanata, a word created by Capello with whom he’s had a love-hate relationship. But more importantly, Fantantonio’s crazy humorous self was very present during last season’s scudetto celebrations, in which Cassano and Massimo Oddo totally stole the show.
Many have said that nothing explains Cassano better than his derby performance earlier this year. He came on in the last 10 minutes, ridiculed Inter’s defense and won a penalty, scored it, celebrated like a mad man and got a yellow card for taking his shirt off, then minutes later got sent off with a second yellow for an unnecessary foul in the dying moments. I think his playing style reveals what kind of person he is. Cassano is the most unselfish of forwards. He is such a giver, always looking to lay off an assist and play a team-mate in a better position. When Cassano gets the ball, he thinks of dribbling past his man and then passing to the most unexpected yet best scoring option for a team-mate. That’s Cassano – a genius, a team player, a giver.
The sad and tragic news shook the football world in no time. Many have shown affection towards Cassano, but it’s impossible to list them all. Maradona sent him a letter. Totti, Del Piero and Gilardino wrote to him on their website. Udinese and Fiorentina sent their best wishes. Materazzi and Pazzini visited in the hospital, as well as Giancarlo Abate (FIGC president), Barbara Berlusconi and Illary Blasi (who did bring him doughnuts!), while Sneijder, Ronaldo, and Samir Nasri chose to send their best wishes through Twitter. Real Madrid wore pre-match “Forza Cassano” t-shirts today against Osasuna. His team-mates in Milan have had nice gestures as well. Prince Boateng wore Cassano’s shirt after Milan scored vs. BATE, and many players have already visited him in the hospital, including Barack Obama. Therefore the least we, members of The Red & Black Forums, could do is try our best to contribute as well.
This is Shevchenko for me. The defining moment, the most heavily etched memory of him in my head. Whenever he’s mentioned, I recall this moment. Maybe because I was doing the same at the time, and what a time it was.
I turned fourteen that day, 27th of May 2003. Relatives came to visit during the day and the night was spent out with friends. I had every reason to be excited at the time. First of all, it was my birthday, turning 14, meaning that from September I’d be in High School, all grown up. Second, the next morning, I’d set off to a lake resort with my entire school for a three day stay. You know what that means – experimenting with alcohol and girls. Things would be good. But the entire day, the 27th, one thing was making me more excited than anything. The Champions League Final against Juventus was tomorrow. My birthday wishes were for us to win Big Ears, bugger me and my hormones.
When the day came, we went by bus, first to a mountain town on the way to the lake. I was not feeling well. The trip was not long, but with the final on my mind and the atmosphere around me got the best of me. The cheap vodka I had while in town didn’t help either. By the time we got to the lake and got settled in the hotel, I was feeling seriously ill. Barely able to stay conscious. God knows I needed sleep, but I was afraid I’d miss the match so I rolled around in bed while my friends drank and smoked in my room. I tried too but both the cigarette and the drink made me want to vomit. Decided to cut the drink and kept smoking to a minimum.
As the game started, I was more than dizzy. Tired and ill, I must admit, I followed the game like it was a dream. To be honest though, the situation was surreal. Me, face a mixture of red and yellow, smoking a cigarette while laying in bed, wearing my ’94 Milan shirt and my scarf around my neck surrounded by a bit drunk teenage boys and girls. Yeah, the room I was in (4 kids shared the same room) was the official football room with more than 20 people in it at all times. Almost all of them cheering for Milan, mostly because of me. Especially liked the fact that the girls decided Milan had the better looking players and made their “loyalties” known.
During extra time, I began to regain consciousness. At the penalties, I was standing, hugging whoever was next to me, looking excited. However, I was scared shitless. If Milan lost, my “life” was ruined. It would all go horribly horribly wrong, when it could have gone so good. Here I was, sick, most probably unable to enjoy myself like I had planned, a penalty shootout loss away from total collapse.
When Sheva took the ball to the spot to shoot, I couldn’t bear to watch. I covered my eyes with my hands, but peeking. My heart was racing so fast. I knew it wasn’t over if he missed, but it would have killed me if it went on. His panic look mirrored mine. He shot the ball, and it went in. Sheva went mad with joy, and so did I. I don’t know where that strength came from me, since I was weak as a baby a few moments ago, but when I saw him run, I started running. I jumped from the bed amidst all the congratulatory hugs, and dashed out of the room, running through the hallways, screaming with joy. It seemed like a lifetime, while it was probably closer to 5 minutes of running. Upon which I promptly collapsed and lost consciousness.
When I woke up, a teacher was with me, and some of my friends. She said I needed to be taken to a doctor immediately. Personally, I couldn’t care less. We were Champions of Europe. Me, Shevchenko and Milan. Didn’t bother arguing with her, she took me with a car to a local hospital as an emergency. A friend and the girl I liked came with us too. Turned out I had a hell of a fever, with a body temperature of 40.2 Celsius. I was dehydrated and was put on a course of fluids and injections. Stayed the night there. Again, couldn’t care less.
Champions of Europe. Me, Shevchenko and Milan.
This post was written by Marcus. Give us your feelings and thoughts of that night?Here are Sheva’s own:
Abbiati 6. – saved the ones he should’ve saved and conceded 2 where he had little to do. He was on heels for 90 minutes and was always ready to win our team some seconds. Confidence boosting performance.
Abate 6.5 – at times he looked like the only one who can run with Barca players and dispossess them rather than wait. Can forgive him the first goal.
Thiago Silva 6.5 – some shaky moments but a game-tying goal. Will forgive him the first goal.
Nesta 7.5 MOTM – Minister of Defence back at his position. What’s his tackling level on those games the youth loves so much? I nominate 1 000 000 000.
Zambrotta 6 – the heat map showed Barca put most pressure on him. Coped ok with it though not too good.
Nocerino 5.5 – won a crucial corner Gattuso style and covered the most ground by our players. But did he caught my eye overall? No.
Van Bommel 6 – stupid card but smart pressure all the time. He was leading our midfield in the defensive phase.
Seedorf 6.5 – only one who could hold the ball for a second and let his teammates breath. And a nice assist from the corner.
Ambrosini 5 – off-form or finished? Played through slight injury? Silly fouls and bad touches. Nothing positive.
Cassano 4.5 – dreadful game. Maybe not suited for such a match but definetely fatigued of all the games he has had over the week.
Pato 6.5 – great to see him scoring. Great to see him scoring in Europe. Could he have done better at some chances? Yes, but with only few touches on the ball we can’t expect all of them to be perfect. Could anyone do better than his opener? No, that is the goal of the season.
Milan 6.5 – the attack was lacking but the defense of the whole team was to be proud of.
Allegri 6.5 – fixed the problems from Lazio game and made the most with depleted selection.
I have a confession to make: I can not watch Roma. For some reason, I just can’t stand them. Never. Their glorified captain, who admittedly, on his day, is one of the most joyful players to watch. Their despicable fan base. Their equally pathetic city rivals. There’s nothing to like about Roma. Not even their kit. That’s why it baffles me when people praise them, for anything at all. I have never enjoyed watching Roma in my life. Even when Spalleti was in charge, transforming Totti from one of the best trequartisti to a false 9 and eventually a Golden Boot winner, and leading them to play highly entertaining football in the eyes of some, I was not a fan.
Phew, feels good to get that off my chest. Now with that on the table, it’s easy to conclude that initially I had no time for Aquilani. For me he was simply the 3rd in line after Totti and De Rossi. Oh great, another passionate Roman who intended to remain a one club man. Whether he was as good as he was hyped up to be didn’t concern me, as I thought the most I’d probably see of him would be our two games vs Roma and perhaps the derby della capitale if I was in the mood to watch 22 angry men fight or a big Champions League game if I fancied a 7-1. So on average, no more than five games a season. Except if he did crack into the Nazionale, which is of course no easy task unless you’re a Juventus player. Just ask Simone Pepe.
Anyway, things change and thankfully Aquilani changed clubs so I could get to form an opinion on him. That opinion is that the man can play. Exquisite technique, great passing, and a rare intelligence are traits that led Aquilani to become one of my favorite players. Even long before he was linked with a transfer to Milan. My first real introduction to Aquilani came in Euro 2008. Yes, you guessed it, the Spain game. Though it would be 3 years until I got to watch the game. So, technically my story with Albertino dates back to the summer of 2009. I was used to the fuss of every transfer window, many baseless rumors emerge and fade as quick as Roberto Baggio’s goal celebrations, and the norm was that Aquilani would be linked with every club possible, only for the player and his club to confirm their relationship is unbreakable. Though that time things ended quite differently. Alonso – a great, great player and a fantastic human being; one that oozes class on the pitch and off it, left Liverpool and ironically Aquilani was signed to replace him. I say ironically because Xabi Alonso is a defensive midfielder while Alberto Aquilani is an offensive one. Though what matters the most is that by changing clubs, there was a slight chance I’d get to watch him more regularly and eventually be obsessed with him. He should be thankful enough for that.
That chance arrived a year later with Juventus. A late summer swoop on loan to La Vecchia Signora meant Aquilani was back to Serie A, and of course automatically back to La Nazionale through the magical gate of Juve. My first attraction towards Aquilani was that he chose 14 as his shirt number, which also happens to be my favorite number. But then I realized he can also play a bit too. That boy, Aquilani, got some touch on him! Over the course of the season, I found myself watching Juve a lot more than I’m used to, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary. The reason was precisely Aquilani. He had swept me off my feet. His touch on the ball is such a treat to the eye, and I’m pretty sure the ball enjoys the company of Aquilani’s feet, because they treat it so nicely. With class touch and gifted technique, Aquilani’s ball control is reminiscent of an artist painting with his legs. Because that’s essentially what he is, an artist, a beautiful genius who is capable of analyzing space and imagining passes ahead that no one would imagine were possible.
There’s plenty to like about Aquilani apart from his football too. For starters, I love his name. Aquilani. Derived from Aqua, water. And he’s got a first name to match it as well: Alberto. Beautiful, so Italian. His name is just as good on the eyes as it is on the ears. Just reminds me of water and the color blue, which are two things I love a lot. Another obvious trait is his likable face, a face of a guy one would love to hang around with. Next up would be his pretty Michela. A gal we’d surely all love to hang around with as well! But see, that’s the beauty of Aquilani, he reflects Italy in every way possible. The son of Rome, the capital of Italy, and hometown to many famous artists and architects. Il Principino, the little prince, resembles just that. He is like a painting by Da Vinci or a music piece by Mozart, enjoyable at all times. His football is so poetic that sometimes I think he belongs in a museum, to be admired in the way he was meant to be.
So often I found myself last season wondering if one day Aquilani would get to play for Milan. While watching a Juventus game, or reading new rumors linking Pirlo to Juventus, my mind would wander into a mini-daydream with Alberto donning a Rossonero jersey and composing a beautiful attack in Milan’s orchestra. It seemed too far of a dream, but sometimes I got myself too excited at the prospect of that happening. I once read a comment that Aquilani is the heir to Rui Costa. That’s brilliantly spot on. And that is why, deep down, I believed that one day Aquilani would in fact become a Milan player. That day had to arrive. Aquilani was simply born to play for Milan. I couldn’t think of a more perfect couple.
Despite that, I have no interest in the transfer market. Don’t get me wrong, discussing football is probably one of my favorite activities. I could spend days discussing tactics or different players, and recalling previous matches or random events from them is a hobby of mine. But I fail to see what’s exciting in the transfer market. Thanks to the internet and the increasing amount of rubbish rumors, as well as the emergence of games where “You could be the manager!”, we have a growing population of aspiring managers. On the computer. Notice I said managers, as apparently being a coach is no fun. It’s not enough to be responsible for the line-up, training, tactics, and team-talks. No transfer, no fun. I guess all coaches should head to England then. Oh well. It truly baffles me. Anyway, back to the original point. Links eventually emerged and faded during the summer, but I kept my hopes up of my dream coming true. Pirlo joining Juve and Aquilani joining Milan through Liverpool were two things I wished for and predicted as early as last February. That’s not to say there were no obstacles. The Hamsik and Montolivo deals had to fall through as well as Aquilani’s loan to Fiorentina to prompt Galliani to sign up my favorite Roman. I would be lying to say I didn’t secretly hope for the situation to pan out the way it did. During the final week of the market, when it became clear that Aquilani has become the club’s priority, I almost had a heart-attack. A weird combination of excitement, adrenaline, high pressure, disbelief, fear of the transfer collapsing, impatience for the official announcement, and sleepless nights awaiting Alberto to put on a Milan jersey were unforgettable moments for me personally. The moment the transfer became official presented me with such a great feeling. A feeling of fulfillment. To see him wear our beloved jersey finally and enter the pitch as a Milan player was also a new high, I just felt such awe and couldn’t take my eyes off that genius with the swift touch on the ball. We’ve already witnessed his first glorious assist, yet I don’t know how I will celebrate his first goal. Probably by a mix of Inzaghi’s most passionate celebration with Tardelli’s after scoring in the World Cup final in addition to Grosso’s vs Germany. Yes, I plan on waking up the whole neighborhood. Let’s hope that moment arrives soon enough as I frankly can’t wait.
In the end, Mr. X or no Mr. X, the most important thing is that Aquilani is here. There was not one player on earth that I’d have preferred to join Milan this summer more than Alberto, and for that I’m grateful. Though I might not forgive him for picking 18 as his shirt number when 14 was wide open. And it was a good luck charm for him in Juve and La Nazionale as well. But, what can one do? Celebrate I guess. I’ve been waiting and dreaming of this moment far too long to let a shirt number bother me too much. Aquilani is an AC Milan player? I guess life is just that good. Thanks to everyone who made it happen, and more importantly, Benvenuto Alberto.