Carlo Ancelotti_ The Beautiful Games of an Ordinary Genius - Alessandro Alciato [52]
It was pure coincidence. The market had brought us Clarence Seedorf, Dario Šimić, and Rivaldo. After our victory in the early round of the Champions League against Slovan Liberec, we got Alessandro Nesta too. Shevchenko was injured, but Rivaldo, Rui Costa, Seedorf, and Pirlo had to play. The club philosophy demanded it: beautiful football, first and foremost.
I got a lot of help from Pirlo, who came to see me in the locker room one fine day: “I can try to play as a defensive midfielder. I played that position with Mazzone, and it worked great.” From one Carletto (Mazzone) to another (me). I had my doubts: I was afraid that Andrea Pirlo might create problems in terms of timing, because he likes to take the ball and keep it. A safe with a slow combination. I wasn’t overly confident in this new approach, but I listened to him and gave it a try at the Berlusconi Trophy. I was astonished. He started playing with beautiful simplicity, and he became an unrivaled player. His name may have an unfortunate sound (pirla in Italian is an insult), but it’s a name to conjure with.
And so it went until the away game against Deportivo de La Coruña in the UEFA Cup, a game in which A. C. Milan’s genetic mutation came to completion. Deportivo’s midfielders typically set the pace of the game, so in order to generate more space in the center of the field I told Rivaldo and Rui Costa to fall into more defensive positions. Inzaghi, further forward, was left unguarded, and he scored three goals. Our opponents were completely baffled: they weren’t sure whether they should send a midfielder or a defender out against Rivaldo and Rui Costa. They lost their equilibrium, they left huge gaps for us to take advantage of; we were nimble, danced on through, and scored. Bullets and tap-dancing, 4–0 on our tiptoes. We were magnificent, and we began winning against teams all over Europe. Even in Munich against Bayern and in Dortmund against Borussia; Germany lay at our feet. I was proud to be Father Christmas: here, enjoy the contents of this Christmas stocking. We were the team of December 25, always ready for a little celebration, whoever might happen along.
I’m proud of my invention. Our formation has even been translated into English: from Albero di Natale to Christmas Tree. I like the sound of that; it works for me. And it made us winners of the Champions League, though there was an element of sheer luck, because with Ajax in the quarterfinals we were out of the running: what saved us was a goal by Tomasson in the last minute: 3–2 in our favor, and the San Siro was packed. We played Internazionale in the semifinals: it was a real derby.
We had lost our determination in Serie A, so our focus was now on the European championship. We were under enormous pressure, and I could feel my bench starting to wobble dangerously. Finally, I felt at ease; the customary burning sensation on my buttocks helped me to get comfortable. In terms of physical conditions, there were beginning to be a few problems, and so I told the team to take a prudent approach: to keep from scoring goals. I’d even written it in the handouts I distributed during the last technical meeting, shortly before the game: “Ensure effective possession, avoid frenzy, don’t carry the ball. Play two-touch football, and do your best to play deep behind the line of their midfielders whenever possible.” Here’s another one: “Don’t be in a hurry, everyone should be involved in constructing the game, including the strikers. Bide your time, wait to find an opportunity for sudden counterattacks … Play with confidence, remember that we’re the stronger team, we have the better ideas.”
I’m still an old-fashioned guy; I write everything by hand, even today—pen on paper, including the notes that I