I'm on some kind of Pirlo kick now. I found this unofficial fan site, and am having so much fun.
This is an old interview with Rino and Pirlo. Really well written...

QUOTE
[uefa Champions] The Odd Couple
(uefa CHAMPIONS magazine Issue 22 April/May 2007)
What if AC Milan were a restaurant? Gennaro 'Rino' Gattuso would be its industrious head chef, slaving in the heat of the kitchen, sweat pouring from his brow as he lops the heads off fish, carves his way through joints of bloodied meat and barks orders at his staff. Andrea Pirlo would be the unflappable, elegant head waiter balancing a laden silver tray in one upturned hand as he strides through the swing doors and glides effortlessly around the dining tables.
Gattuso and Pirlo are the odd couple of European football. They form the beating heart of one of the most powerful midfields in the modern game, for club and country. It is no coincidence their teams have lifted most of the silverware the sport has to offer. "We've won the UEFA Champions League, a Serie A title, a European Supercup, an Italian Cup, an Italian Supercup," says Gattuso, rattling off Milan's achievements. Then, of course, there was last July's wonderful victory against the odds in the Azzurri shirt of Italy at the 2006 World Cup.
"But we've shared some disappointments, too," he sighs. "We lost a Champions League final [against Liverpool in 2005]. We're missing the European Championship and the UEFA Cup. And we lost in the Intercontinental Cup [against Boca Juniors]. That last one might seem like a tin-pot trophy when you are in it, but when you lose it, it hurts. It's like losing the World Cup."
The Gattuso/Pirlo partnership's first taste of victory came at Under-21 level, when they won the European Championship for Italy in the year 2000. The triumph left Gattuso open-mouthed at his team-mate's talented footwork. "Andrea scored two goals in the final against the Czech Republic. In Bratislava. I recall two wonderful goals. They seemed..." He pauses. "They really impressed me. That remains with me."
Their long, hugely successful pairing stretches back some eleven seasons. They played together for Italy at Ul 8 and U21 level, and met up again at Milan when Pirlo joined the Rossoneri from Brescia in 2001 after an erratic four-year spell with city rivals Internazionale. Gattuso's route to Milan was more circuitous, taking in Perugia, Rangers (where he had a loan spell at Motherwell but became something of a folk hero at Ibrox) and Salernitana.
As footballers, the fascinating thing about Pirlo and Gattuso is the way their almost diametrically opposed playing styles complement one another so completely. As individuals, they personify the diversity of the land of their birth, representing the curious contradictions that sum up modern Italy.
Gattuso comes from a tiny fishing port in Calabria; he represents the poor, hot, deep south, the traditional Italy that carries its emotions on its sleeve. "I'm a terrone - a peasant," he grins. "And I'm proud of it."
Pirlo couldn't be more distant from his teammate, both geographically and in character. He was born in Brescia, in the far north. Famous for its firearms industry (including the Beretta pistol), this well-off industrial town sits proudh near Lake Garda, a two-hour motorway drive east of Milan.
Pirlo is a classic Bresciano. Reticent and reserved, he comes across almost as phlegmatic. It is a rather English character trait - very un-Italian. "Yes," he agrees, permitting himself a brief half-smile. "I do seem introverted, for those people who don't know me. But with my friends, with my teammates, I'm always joking around. But for those who don't know me it could seem that I'm introverted, yes."
On the pitch, their characters are reflected in their playing styles. Gattuso is the powerhouse, the stocky indefatigable battler, with lungs the size of his beloved Calabria. With his chugging running style, physical courage and aggression, he resembles a bulldog forever standing on its hind legs. Meanwhile, Pirlo is only ever a few yards away, his petite steps and delicate movements punctuated every now and then by a self-conscious flick of the head to twitch away the hair that has fallen over his face.
Off the pitch the contrasts are just as stark. Gattuso marches along the carpeted corridor at Milanello (Milan's training retreat in the Lombardy countryside), arms pumping and his training top unzipped. He greets his interviewer by double-kissing cheeks - the southern way of demonstrating respect and friendship. He is expansive and chatty but very direct, plonking himself down in the very next seat and enquiring kindly, "Haveyou had a coffee?"
A week later, again at Milanello, Pirlo's entrance couldn't be more different. He slides silently into the room, trenchcoat buttoned up to the collar, woollen hat pulled down to his eyebrows. He burrows himself into the sofa on the other side of the table, hands deep in his coat pockets. He could be a nervous schoolboy summoned to the headmaster's office for a ticking off. The voice is croaky and quiet, but much deeper than you might expect. Not until our second chat later that day does he unbutton the coat and pull off the hat.
Where Gattuso dives in with interruptions, jokes and anecdotes, chunky hands accompanying his conversation in lively fashion, Pirlo sits unmoving, his expressionless face rarely breaking into more than a quarter-smile. "I don't like to do interviews," he admits toward the end. "I prefer others to do the talking." His heavy-lidded eyes, lank hair and immobile face all add to the impression of someone perhaps a little too distant from the world around him.
Last summer, Flero, the village near Brescia where he grew up, proudly staged Pirlo Day. "I don't like going to events, going out to places," says the man. "I prefer to stay at home, to be quiet. I like to stay away from the spotlight. I don't like to be at the centre of attention."
But he did go to his own Pirlo Day? "Yes, I went," he replies, apparently oblivious to the playful tone of the question, "but I try to keep these things to a minimum."
Pirlo Day was the village's way of honouring the Azzurri's success in Germany, where the quiet man definitely let his feet do the talking. His talent was at its most eloquent when he struck that exquisite pass to Fabio Grosso against Germany in the semi-final.
Grosso's first-time curling shot past |ens Lehmann was like a dagger into the heart of the host nation. But it was Pirlo who so swiftly unsheathed that dagger.
Unexpectedly collecting the ball outside the German area, the Italian attackers were faced by massed ranks of defenders. With one masterful stroke, the Milan midfielder cut out three defenders with a grasscutting sliced reverse pass that found Grosso in space on the right. Pirlo had dummied the advancing defenders by cleverly not changing his footing, sending them the wrong way just long enough to gain a crucial split-second advantage for Grosso. Both pass and shot were of such beautiful precision that even German fans had to admire the move.
"Andrea certainly has the capability to see things that I just don't see," says Gattuso. "Sure, we both have two eyes. But let's say that if I have 40% vision of the game, Andrea has 80%. Sometimes Andrea, with those feet that he has, avoids you having to make a move. He shortens the team on the pitch with through balls."
On national duty, Gattuso plays more centrally to protect the defensive line. In contrast, at Milan he covers the right side of a three-man midfield. Pirlo plays deeper, in front of the defence - a good vantage point from which to view the game and direct the team.
The slightly built Pirlo started out as a second-line striker. A precocious talent, he made his Serie A debut with Brescia two days after turning 16. The crucial change came in 2001. Pirlo was back on loan at Brescia after signing for Inter in 1998, but Roberto Baggio was already gracing Carlo Mazzone's side, his creative play tucked in behind the front line. The veteran coach astutely positioned Pirlo further back, where he could exploit the time and space in front of his own defenders.
"Mazzone was the first to play me there," says Pirlo. "I liked it straight away. I saw more of the ball. When 1 moved to Milan I asked [coach Carlo] Ancelotti if I could play the same here, and he agreed." Inter's loss was, as so often in recent seasons, Milan's gain. Pirlo had finally arrived at the right place at the right time as Ancelotti initiated a new attack-minded era for the Rossoneri. That policy reached its zenith with the Champions League win in 2003, and Gattuso nominates the final against Juventus as the pair's finest joint performance.
Do the two of them have code words or signals to communicate on the pitch?
"No, by now it's instinctive," says Gattuso.
"It's enough to call each other for a moment," Pirlo adds. "We don't have time to talk. The matches are so quick,you don't even have time to stop."
"We've been playing together for eleven years," says Gattuso, "so we have an incredible level of confidence in each other, an understanding. I get on really well with him."
Rino is enthusiastic in his praise. "For me to see the ease with which he reads a game and moves the team, it leaves me just... for me it's hard even to imagine how he does it."
Neither man describes the other as a 'best friend'. They sometimes socialise out of work, but both are now fathers of young children. Gattuso has a two-year-old daughter; Pirlo a small daughter and newly born son. On the field, though, their relationship could hardly be closer.
"Few players in the world can do what he does," says Gattuso of his teammate. "He has a lot of vision. He's creative. Me, I'm an aggressive player. Me and Andrea, we succeed in being the complete couple. Even though we've been playing well together for many years, the consecration of our partnership came with the World Cup last year."
But couples also sometimes have arguments. Do they ever fall out?
"No, we have never argued seriously," says Gattuso. "He is always making fun of me. He calls me terrone, and he laughs when I make a mistake with Italian grammar. Hey, my teacher died when I was little! But Andrea has a great sense of humour. It doesn't seem it, but he has. He kills us in training," he says, adding a playful but vulgar adjective that is simply untranslatable.
On the pitch, Gattuso is a self-confessed troublemaker. "I'm always talking. I have a quarrel with a teammate, but it finishes there." But when tensions are rising during a game, it is often the quiet man who calms down his explosive partner. "He has helped me a lot," admits the emotional southerner. "Sometimes I get too involved out there on the pitch - in an exaggerated way. Perhaps it's an advantage not being too similar, having characters so completely different."
The two players also have very different relationships with the fans. Gattuso can be seen exhorting the San Siro faithful, clenching his fists or waving his arms in big, upward motions to encourage them. Pirlo is a complete contrast and he has suffered for it. At Inter, his laconic style was mercilessly abused by the notoriously impatient fans.
"Yes, I know what you mean," says the noisy half of the couple. "He seems like he isn't interested. As though he doesn't care. It makes me laugh when I hear this."
It is the downside of Pirlo's talent for keeping a calm exterior. "It's part of my character," says Pirlo. "Also off the pitch. It's a gift from my parents, fortunately. And I'm happy to have it," he adds, a touch defensively. "It's a strength not everyone has. There can be a lot of tension out there on the pitch, in matches that are... a bit... like that," he says vaguely. "If you are able to stay calm it helps you."
It certainly does. Pirlo's self-control has made him a specialist in taking free kicks and penalties. In one game against Modena, Ancelotti brought him on from the subs bench especially to take a penalty kick. He converted it.
Eleven years is a lifetime in football. Not surprisingly, both players have changed in that time. Still a battler, Gattuso has hugely improved the technical side of his game. He attributes this to his personal battle to overcome the disappointment of the 2002 World Cup, when critics placed a disproportionate amount of blame at his door for Italy's miserable second-round exit. Hours of extra work have hugely improved his distribution.
Where Gattuso the warrior has worked on his technique, Pirlo the technician has toughened up the physical side of his game. "I'm harder now, more spiteful," he says. He needs to be. Opponents invariably target him as a way of stifling Milan's game plan. "I get marked more than our strikers," he sighs, "but I enjoy the responsibility."
He bridles at the suggestion that he waits to be fed by teammates. "At Milan, everyone has to try to win possession. It's not that you have to wait for Gattuso to win the ball. Every now and then I go and win the ball." The delivery is so deadpan that it almost masks his sarcasm.
Both national and club sides have benefited from the pair's improved repertoire, but both men refer to the "special atmosphere" in the Champions League. "In Italy, opponents close themselves in their own half and it's difficult to play," says Pirlo. "In the Champions League all the teams look to win, to attack. The game is more open, there are more opportunities to attack. I enjoy myself."
While each half of the partnership touchingly refers to themselves as "a couple", each is keenly aware of the division of labour. Gattuso is more ready to concede his limitations. Does he ever try learning free kicks from his partner in training? "No," he scoffs with his usual self-deprecation. "It's better that I go running or something, so I don't make a mess of things. You have to be born with that talent to put it in the net. Then you work to improve that talent." Likewise, Pirlo has never come to him for tips on tackling, let alone on harrying an entire opposition midfield single-handedly, as Gattuso can.
Although the duo still correspond to Italians' own stereotypes of themselves, Gattuso recalls the World Cup penalty shoot-out against France last summer, when Pirlo's usual air of detachment suddenly vanished and the odd couple had a lot more in common than often appears.
"Andrea looked like he had the devil on his shoulder. Before each penalty he took a breath, and he had this look on his face. Very few times I've seen him like that. Perhaps because he missed in Istanbul [the 2005 Champions League final] and he missed in the Intercontinental [Cup, against Boca juniors]. When I saw that face against France I realised, ah, finally. So he does get nervous like the rest of us!"
Reckon I can hit the bar from here?
As my train trundled into Milan, I couldn't help noticing some graffiti. Se Baggio è il principe del codino, allora Pirlo e il re, it said, which the Italian next to me kindly translated as, "if Baggio is our ponytailed prince, then Pirlo is our king."
The writing may have been muddled, but the message was clear. After helping Italy to World Cup glory, Pirlo is the new darling of Italian football. His face is splashed across every billboard, his reputation bolstered by every mesmerising pass.
Never before has a player in his position been so lauded and idolised. Some fans may find a small place in their heart for the Emersons and Claude Makeleles of this world, but they almost always reserve their true love for the game's entertainers. Players like Kaka and Ronaldinho. With Pirlo, you buy one and get the other free.
My task for the day was the kind of fantasy job every young fan dreams of. I was to be given a 60-minute lesson in passing from the pass master as part of a new uefa.com project called the Training Ground, which encourages today's stars to show youngsters how they can get the most out of the beautiful game.
As Pirlo sauntered over to me and the Training Ground team in his typically languid, slightly bow-legged (but hugely stylish) manner, my legs started to tremble. What the hell was I doing on the same pitch as this man? He scored a penalty in a World Cup final and had won the Champions League by the time he was 24. In contrast, I was dropped from my school team when I was 12 for scoring four own goals in nine games, and the last time I hit a lofted pass it deflected off my grandmother's washing line and broke the glass in my neighbour's greenhouse.
After a flurry of ciao, ciao, ciao, 4,000 misdirected passes (by me) and a good old-fashioned handshake, my passing had improved from utterly hopeless to merely below average.
"It's all about technique and concentration," Pirlo explained before a picture-perfect pass just like the one that split the German defence in the World Cup semi-final. "I spent years working at my game to get to where I am. I hit some terrible passes, too, along the way, but it's amazing what a small piece of advice from someone who has been in football so long can do for a player. I hope my knowledge of the game can help all the young footballers out there, just as it has helped you."
Asked what advice he would give youngsters hoping to be the next Andrea Pirlo, he added: "Train hard and make the most of your talent. Just because you are talented doesn't mean you will make it. It is a combination of effort, attitude and talent."
What followed next will live with me for the rest of my life. The hour he had promised us had long since passed but Pirlo seemed in no rush to go.
If you have seen the advert in which Ronaldinho thumps five shots in succession against the crossbar and refused to believe it was possible, then read on.
Pirlo turned to me and said: "Reckon I can hit the bar from here?" "No," I replied.
He was fully 40 yards out. Before I had a chance to change my mind, he sent a thunderous shot crashing against the bar.
He turned to me and said: "Reckon I can do it again?" "No," I replied. Boom, crash. Two out of two.
The third time he didn't bother asking. Incredibly, the ball homed in on the crossbar with more precision than an Exocet missile.
As the fourth ball pinged against the crossbar and back to his feet, the whole training ground was silent with awe. He had their attention now and to make sure he kept it, he hit the bar a fifth time.
He left the pitch, with a wry smile, to a standing ovation from the small crowd that had gathered. My only worry was to make sure the camera crew had the whole thing on tape. uefa.com/trainingground launches on 2 April
(Check out the video on uefa.com. The author was obviously exaggerating...)
2/28/2008
Here's another tidbit...
QUOTE
Il Corriere della Sera interviewed Andrea Pirlo who declared: 'My dream is to score the perfect free-kick in the World Cup final against Brazil. That would be the top but also scoring in an important league and Champions League would be up there. If I wasn't a footballer I would like to have been an interpreter. I have a diploma from a written corrispondence course in foreign languages: I opted for a profession that combines my studies and my passion for travelling.'
Anybody know what languages he knows? I've never heard him speak English. And didn't Hanna say he couldn't follow what she was saying. Unless Hanna was so freaked out, she was yapping in Korean.