Roberto Baggio, Golden Ball winner and Player of the Year in 1993, played for Milan 1995-97.

At Fillipo's suggestion, I've translated an article that appeared in Repubblica. It's long and there are probably lots of errors, but it's an interesting read.

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20 years have passed hoping that he returns as soon as possible and the other 20 hoping that he doesn’t return again. Because you’ve obstinately called for a miracle: a return even faster from injury increasingly serious, for the desire to see him and his fantasy on the pitch again. And because, after his retirement, you’ve seen the man with his increasingly simple desires having taken the post of the champion and of the unique desires that he knew how to give. From the normal to the extraordinary and from the extraordinary to the normal: a distance that Roberto Baggio has known how to complete without ostentation, with humility and tenacity. In shorts he left 4 years ago, Milan-Brescia his last game and in shorts I found him again on an August day, ‘in a limbo of summary nothing’. Altavilla Vicenta, a street on a climb and a small curve to the right before a wooden front door: Robi has returned a few hours before from Asiago and has started to mow the lawn with a modern but very noisy machine. Hectares of grass in the English style. Pants he’s sacrificed do the head and humidity, he’s also wearing a green shirt and a cyclist’s cap.

Under the cap is one of the remarks imported from Argentina, ‘que perro camorrero’, ‘what a noisemaker’. It was unforgettable when Robi presented himself to Lippi – the nervous Inter season – with the note ‘kill me if I don’t serve you’.

Sweaty, the scars that mark the knee and tell their tormented story, the diamond still in his left ear. “In the last month’s I’ve gained a few kilos,’ he half-excuses himself, ‘the fault of the wine. When I’m at table I don’t know how to resist a couple of glasses of fresh prosecco, especially on days like this. If I stop for a month, I’ll lose 4 or 5 kilos. And I’ve got a disgusting metabolism: I gain weight just looking at food. I’m outside the register as ever. How many planes did I miss for guilt of antidoping when I played? Catania, Lecce, Napoli, too many times I had to sleep out and return the following morning. I’d finish the game totally dehydrated: functions only returned after six or seven hours. I’ll let you imagine what happened after a night. At least in the last two years at Berscia I was able to resolve the problem, avoiding having to use the facilities hours before the game. After, I had to hold it for 90 minutes.”

What’s Baggio doing? How does he live? When will he return? Does he want to return? Is he bored without football? Does he not miss it?

Always the same questions for 4 years, those about his absence, asked with affection and respect. “I’m well, seriously. What you see is my world, the house, the lawn, the woods, the bathhouse, the birdhouse, the store house. I don’t think I could get rid of it all to go back to the merry-go-round, today. Another move is not possible and at this moment, the desire isn’t there. There are 5 of us, I should think especially of the children, 18, 14, and 3: they have the right to be raised from nearby. I enjoy the freedom to watch them faithfully and everything that happens to them. With all the things I have to do I don’t have time for boredom. I feel like the lord of my days, it’s a fantastic feeling. I’ve dreamed for a long time about being able to have this kind of life: no more presidents, directors, coaches, obligations, expirations, timetables to respect. I’ve done what I had to do and I gave everything to football. From when I was a child, I didn’t think of anything else. Training, ritiro, travel, hotels, games and again training: I seemed to be Cutolo (?). I didn’t take a step back, but two forward.”

Above all, as a man. “It’s not like me to make serious speeches, but this piece of live I’ve prepared. If you think in 14 years of friendship and collaboration with Vittorio (his agent), we didn’t plan a second career, for after football. I wanted to see how the world was, to try to taste the simple things and to take time to do all the things I could only do 20 days a year when I was a footballer. I also visit friends: friendship is the highest value of a human being, as my (Buddhist) master Ikeda told me.

On his right wrist are two rubber bracelets with ‘Heroes Company’ on them. This is an initiative that he has engaged in. “It’s a non-profit organization that I founded with Vittorio a year ago, in September of 2007. We were guests in a village 70 kilometers from Vientiane, the capital of Laos, where we brought teaching instruments to fight bird flu – I’ve been an ambassador for FAO for 6 years. The work of a volunteer has won me over, they’re modern heroes and I’ve felt the desire to give a hand. Thus was born Heroes Company. For months we’ve been giving assistance to people injured by anti-personnel mines, donating artificial limbs. I also hope to go to Burma to deliver to Nobel Peace Prize Winner Suu Kyi – under house arrest – the words from President Napolitano and Walter Veltroni, the mayor of Rome. She’s the one I’d like to meet. The problem is that both Vittorio and I are on the black list of the Burmese government and can’t go there.”

Robi seems satisfied, in perfect harmony with his surroundings, and with the present. The only rhythms he allows are those of Argentina, of the Pampas. The most recent was at the end of July. He shows me a photo taken after some shooting: a wild boar longer than 2 meters that he had shot in the night. “You don’t see animals this big during the day. A male of 168 kilos, clever, had seen it all: the hunter, the cartridges, the dogs. Three escapes and finally we found him again. In the evenings before we only saw females and little ones and the females and little ones I won’t touch. To be able to think like an animal you’re following to anticipate it’s steps is a game of wills: instinct against instinct, experience against experience. And we’re on his territory. If you knew how many villagers asked us to stop the boars from devastating their fields… Many times I’ve tried to explain my rapport with shooting, without success. Only those with my same enthusiasm can understand.

From a first life made by his feet to a second made with his hands, new instruments; new themes and new elements. Robi collects birdcages and personally restores them; he’s got more than 200. And small mirrors: he has them from England, France, from the early 20th century. He also collects and restores wooden ducks, some black with tar: 4 belonged to Giacomo Puccini (“we found them at Lake Massaciuccoli where he used to hunt”). He voluntarily and with unexpected skill works with wood, he’s also helped restore a fishermen’s barge bought at Grado. He’s put this in one of the three rooms dedicated to his passion.

There are few traces of football on the three-level villa. There are photos on the wall of Ronaldo, Zamorano and Zanetti with Valentina and Mattia (Baggio’s 2 eldest children). The golden ball has a more noble place in the corridor on the way to his bed room at the side of his first set of cleats that his mother got him 33 years ago and that she returned to him on his 40th birthday. The jerseys are all there, filling up a series of closets. “I haven’t shown them to anyone, I’ve got more than 600 of them, from Maradona’s at the world cup to Pele’s Santos jersey, and also those of Van Basten, Gullit, Zico and Baresi. I’ve also saved my jerseys and warm-ups.

A surprising, nearly maniacal order. “I keep everything. I don’t need any more fireworks. I remember the years with Sacchi in the Nazionale, every season with him was worth 5 with anyone else. We never gave up. Three championships and cups played on Sunday, Wednesday and again on Sunday. We trained every day, even December 31 and January 1 and, during a free week, in February I think, invented an internship alla Borghesiana. Pitch, lunch, videos and pitch again. When I was able to go home for a day I felt like I’d gone to heaven. The tiredness was mental above all for a free spirit like mine. For my two oldest children, I had 14 years of appearances.” He retells a story. “Leonardo, my youngest son, when he saw me for the first time after returning from training, screamed ‘grandpa!’”

A quick shower, the ponytail hardly evident: short grey hair. He took me to lunch 10 minutes drive away at a place curiously called Romeo, where we had free-range chicken and where he cultivated friendships of quality, from Mario Rigoni Stern (“we spent a lot of days together and he’s never talked to me about his books, except once on Christmas Eve some years ago, when he made comparisons between wealth of today and misery: it was a great loss’) to Gian Antonio Stella, to another extraordinary journalist, Gigi Riva. With us was Claudio, Robi’s father in law. We chatted and drank and occasionally drifted to talk about football. “When Berlusconi and Galliani started to talk about Ronaldinho,” says Robi, “I understood that they would have taken him. At Milan things are done that way, and they like that kind of player: they wanted to build a block of Brazilians and above all recuperate Ronaldinho with the stimulus of having Kaka and Pato there. He couldn’t let himself be the third-best Brazilian. I’m not sure what happened at Barcelona, but something must have happened because at a certain point Rijkaard stopped calling him up and rumors started of a rift with Eto’o, which I never believed. If you have Ronaldinho, you don’t leave him on the bench unless you’ve got a really good reason. Now my friend Pep Guardiola is coaching Barcelona: a very intelligent type who I hope is as successful as he deserves. He’s started in the big time with the CL preliminaries.”

A moment of silence before talking about Inter. “Mancio lost his head after the Liverpool game, he’s the coach but he sounded like a player to me. A formidable player but one with limits, or at least his history says that: during the games that counted, he had difficulty.” Another pause and a sort of drop. “He wasn’t the only one. Regrets? Sometimes they resurface. The shot against France in the 98 World Cup, for example. That time Barthez slipped but I noticed it late when I’d already prepared my shot. If I’d been more cool I’d have scored for sure and nobody would have stopped us.”

awesome great work with translation . i sure miss watching the divine ponytail play FM

Thanks Tennie

Thanks alot for that Tennie, not just the post, but the time and effort you took to translate it. A very good read indeed.

P.S. What does Codino mean?

You guys are welcome! Thanks for the kind words.

(psst, Kurt. Codino = Ponytail)

Oh,..you made it,..Thanks a lot! It really is a interesting read..

Now, I know Flor would probably want to..nah, more then just play with the Fish Doll, but still,..she offers a harmless play,..

Ah, that makes sense, thanks!

What did u think it was

u naughty naughty boy

The fish part of the fish doll worries about overly friendly cats, Fillipo. He'd happily accept a beer from Flor, though!

Then Flor settles for a nice cup of weissbier from your pub in Wroclaw,..

Thanks alot for this, Baggio is my favorite player through all time! Forza!

Oh, never got the chance to welcome you, so I'll take my chances now,..

Ditto. Welcome, IlSoldatino. Enjoy the party!

Who's Flor?

Who's Fay?

That's the important question. Anyway, from what I gather Flor is Fillipo's pet cat that sounds like she's very fond of fishdolls and likes. Also likes Weissbier as a drink. I know you travel the seven seas, and all, but it's never a bad idea to read the thread, captain. Friendly suggestion.

I'm not too fond of cats. They scratch and purr and are spoilt and leave hair all over the flat. My ex-gf was exactly like that.

Fay??? Fay is proof that god exists and that occasionally he sends angels down to earth, so that pirates like me might have a shot at redemption.

So you have any photos of this Fay, or is she just a fragment of your very wild imagination?

If I show you, you'll steal her... You've got a Raptor...

..Indeed, it is my pet cat..

So Jack, your ex-gf was a cat? I knew something's wrong with that pirate..

No...I'd say cats are like my ex-gf.

What, Jack dates cats?

*sigh* If she's not a kitten, she's a b!tch....you get what I mean..

That seems sexist...

Kittens, so you're like a cat peadophile? And a b!tch, so you're into dogs as well? Hey, whatever you like man, we won't judge you.

You talk about baby cats and dogs, and you worry that people will think you're sexist?

Egads....I'm sure he gets what I mean. I've had it till my neck with you 'White Cross is not visible' types!!!

Bridgitte Bardot was a kitten, Paris Hilton is a *****... capisce?

EDIT: Goddaamn censor board...Paris Hilton is a b!tch!

Hey, I can see the white cross!

Oohh.. NOW I get it.

You guys sure are interesting when you to off topic!

Yes, we should go back on topic.. I'm not entirely sure how we got onto cats and dogs in Baggio's thread anyways.

Thanks to our friendly neighborhood thread hijacker. Captain. Jack Sparrow. That's how. Besides, Baggio loves cats and dogs (am not sure about beatches, as captain so vividly explained), so technically we're not off topic.

I still think he played too little in Milan. Baggio is my favorite Italian forward of all time. With Del Piero in a distant second place. Too much class in that ponytail.

^^
Beep Beep Massaro. Though, in terms of players I always though Pippo has the most personality.

Mancio Had History Of Big Match Nerves - Baggio

Italian football legend Roberto Baggio talked about former Inter coach Roberto Mancini and Ronaldinho's transfer to Milan.

GOAL:
Link:

This game has kept me occupied for the last 20 or so minutes: Baggio's Magical Kicks

I know .. It's addictive

thanx

It's a bit addictive. I have reached the 15th cup and scored about 60 goals before giving up

Gotta. Stay. Away. From. It. Addictive is something I can't afford (with a busy schedule and Internet connection that gives up every now and then). Oh, my!

Happy Birthday Roberto Baggio!

I couldn't have complied a better article than this one to celebrate his birthday, Clicky, Il Divin Codino

One of my top 5 favorite players! The best Italian forward of all time, IMO. Simply divine.