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Rizzoli International Publications, Inc.

300 Park Avenue South

New York, NY 10010

www.rizzoliusa.com

© 2010 Rizzoli International Publications, Inc.

Originally published (except chapters 1 and 2) in Italy in 2009 by RCS Libri S.p.A., Milano

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior consent of the publisher.

Translated into English by Antony Shugaar for Paraculture, Inc.

Nuovo Istituto Italiano d’Arti Grafiche, Bergamo – Italy

eISBN: 978-0-8478-3558-4

Library of Congress Catalog Control Number: 2010930884

v3.1

For papá Giuseppe and mamma Cecilia.

And for Stefano.

—C.A.

To Eleonora, who is my life.

And to JT.

—A.A.

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Foreword by Paolo Maldini

1. The Story of the Steak that Couldn’t Sing

2. Times Tables and Victory

3. Summoned for a Meeting with Abramovich. It Begins.

4. Turkish Delights

5. The Pig Is Sacred. And the Pig Can Coach.

6. Faking a Fake

7. Achilles’ Knee

8. A Dog, Champion of Italy

9. “Hello, This Is Silvio. I Want to Win Everything There

Is to Win.”

10. Milan under Sacchi, Just Like Bologna under Maifredi!

11. I Decide the Formation.

12. A Double in the Last Match

13. World Cup Dreams

14. Wobbly Benches

15. Ancelotti: Anti-Imagination

16. Montero and the Avvocato, Both Crazy About Zizou

17. If You’re Looking for Feelings, Please Apply Elsewhere

18. The End of a Story that Never Began

19. How I Lost my Temper and Gained my A. C. Milan

20. King in England, Thanks to the Christmas Tree

21. Kaká, the Greatest Unknown Player on Earth

22. The Truth from Istanbul: You Have to Fall to Rise Again

23. An Impatient Pinocchio

24. There Is No Such Thing as the Malta Pact

25. The Perfect Match, Played the Night Before

26. Once Upon a Time, I Signed a Contract with Real Madrid

27. We’ll Beat the Bastard

28. Summoned by Abramovich. The End.

Carlo Ancelotti: A Biography

FOREWORD

I’ll keep addressing him by his first name; I always have. When a footballer stops playing, he can finally make friends with his coach. A certain closeness springs up, and barriers come down. I’ve been lucky in that I got that part of the job done ahead of time. I practically came into the world as a member of Carletto’s team; we’ve always been de facto partners. People say that I was a banner for A. C. Milan. If that’s true, then he was the wind that made me flutter. When the wind of Carletto blows, I’m out on the field, with my jersey, number 3, a perfect number in part thanks to my teammates. And he points the way. In his management of the locker room and team meetings, Carletto remains what he has always been: an unparalleled comedian. He manages to crack jokes even before the final game in the Champions League. He talks about roast dinners, he cocks an eyebrow, and we go on to win, because we are relaxed. People imagine that a coach has to make tear-jerking speeches to his team at the most decisive moments, and in fact there have been tears shed at times like that—but it was always because we were laughing so hard. On certain occasions, we’ve heard total silence from the locker room of the opposing team, while in ours Silvio Berlusconi and our coach were telling us jokes. We’re a family, and that’s what families do.

Carletto never goes overboard—with the possible exception of when he’s eating, because once he sits down and grabs a knife and fork, you’d need an exorcist to stop him. Ever since he became a coach, he sits at a special table, with a special menu, and a special digestive system. He eats, he drinks, he eats some more, he drinks some more. When something good is served, forget about all his discipline and all his methods, including his beloved Christmas Tree. He can’t stand to keep all that abundance to himself. So he starts calling us over: “Paolo, come here. You have to