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By Root 362 0

sixth, but we didn’t need him. Shevchenko was decisive. Luckily, incredible but true, Juventus managed to put together a lineup that was even worse: Trezeguet, Birindelli, Zalayeta, Montero, and Del Piero. A second before Shevchenko kicked, I thought: “Okay, it’s over.” Then it happened. A second later—and this is what I’ll never forget—it was incredible to see the entire Juventus end of the stands motionless. It looked like a poster. I wanted to take it off the wall and carry it home with me, but unfortunately I didn’t have a wall big enough to hang it on. In any case, my dear Milan fans, best wishes from the everlasting instant. What enormous satisfaction.

At four in the morning, I was scarfing down my second bowl of pasta all’amatriciana, prepared for me by Oscar Basini, our team chef. At five in the morning, we were all drunk in the hotel, completely snookered on English beer. We went out and started playing soccer on the hotel golf course, tearing up the green. The hotel staff was distraught: they were tempted to toss us out, but they couldn’t. We were the masters of all Europe, and so, for that one magical night, we were the masters of Manchester as well. We wanted to be considerate—we’d taken all possible precautions, we had even decided to take off our shoes to keep from ruining the green—but accidents happen. Even barefoot, Gattuso is a bulldozer. He tore up everything, even the hole in the middle of the green. In the meantime, Galliani had taken away the cup. He had locked himself in his hotel room with it. He’d taken the Champions League to bed with him. The poor little thing.

CHAPTER 21

Kaká, the Greatest Unknown Player on Earth

Another round, another gift. An incredible, wonderful gift. Completely unexpected. You should never look a gift horse in the mouth, that much is certain. But after you’ve untied the bows and unwrapped it, you can certainly thank heaven. And you can thank the horse. That seems to me the very least you can do. Summer 2003 is when that horse—no, more like that Martian—landed. Scholars of extraterrestrial life, lend me your ears: We are pleased to introduce you to Kaká—an absolute world premiere. A child prodigy at play on the fields of the European champions.

I had certainly heard something about a young man from Brazil, a pretty talented kid, but I didn’t know anything more than that: a certain Ricardo Izecson dos Santos Leite. From the name, if I had to guess, I would have assumed he was a young preacher, and, in a way, I was pretty near the mark. He was spreading the gospel of soccer and faith: Listen to his word and you shall discover eternal bliss. The club wasn’t sure whether to invite him to come to Milanello immediately or else leave him to mature in Saõ Paulo for another six months. After thinking it over, we decided to speed up the process, to bring him over as soon as possible to allow him to train with us—and to let me get an idea of just who we were dealing with. As far as I could tell, we were buying something with our eyes closed, based on a lot of pretty promises and a frothy tide of high hopes. That’s all well and good, but what I need is concrete evidence.

Kaká landed at Milan’s Malpensa Airport, and I felt like pulling out tufts of my hair: he was wearing schoolboy glasses, his hair was neatly brushed, he had the scrubbed, rosy-cheeked face of a straight-A student. All he lacked was a book bag and a lunch-box. Oh, Lord, what have we done? He’s not ready to pick a major, much less play professional soccer. Welcome to the international exchange student program; now let’s find out if you even know how to dribble and kick.

Kaká looked nothing like a Brazilian footballer; if anything, he looked like a Jehovah’s Witness in the industrial belt outside Milan. I started asking around, and everyone told me the same thing: “Sure, he has potential. He’s an attacking midfielder, but he’s not superfast. If he plays in an Italian championship game, he could run into trouble when things get tight.” I’m going to keep the names of my sources confidential, to keep from making