Free I Think Therefore I Play by Andrea Pirlo, Alessandro Alciato

It was me against the grape skins, fighting to save the juice. It’s the first metaphor that comes to mind if I have to explain the difference between good and bad; between the useful and the pointless. These were barefoot family reunions, with loads of relatives helping alongside me.
    Perhaps it was during those flights of fancy, those daydreams that allowed me to still feel alive, that I learned to appreciate certain alcoholic drinks. Even now, I’ll sometimes come home after training, light the fire and pour myself a glass of wine. On our days off, I’ll stick on my Juventus tracksuit and go for a run amongst the vines. Where the farm once stood you’ll now find Pratum Coller, my father’s business. The house specialities are red, white and rosé, and we’re also dipping a toe into the world of sparkling wine.
    We’ll certainly make a saving on tasters: I’ll take care of that side of things, and not just because the ‘Pirlo’ is the most famous Brescia aperitivo going. The ingredients are simple: sparkling white wine, Campari and tonic water.
    I started drinking it during my time at Inter. Or at least that’s what people say.
     
    21. A stalwart of the Inter and Italy defence in the 1980s and 1990s, one-club man Bergomi was known as lo zio (the uncle) because of the prodigious facial hair he sported from an early age
    22. Inter’s long-serving Argentina midfielder. Always has a shaven head
    23. As it was, he left for Milan in 2001 having been contracted to Inter for three years
    24. Key figure in the Grande Inter team that enjoyed sustained success under the charismatic Helenio Herrera in the 1960s
    25. Season 1998/99
    26. Around £9.6m

Chapter 10
    I’ve allowed myself a few good blowouts in my time. The type of seriously heavy session that almost makes you want to dig out that Inter scarf (or Milan pen), look at yourself in the mirror and see a tall, beautiful blond guy with blue eyes staring back.
    The perfect moment to let your hair down is usually after a triumph, because defeats deserve a different kind of reaction. Something less pleasant than a drink among team-mates; something far removed from a group toast. As a general rule, I’m more lucid when things go badly. When you lose, it’s all about thinking and reflecting. When you win, burping takes priority.
    The Ballon d’Or presentation ceremony is the exception that proves the rule. It’s the most prestigious individual honour, I never win, and yet I can’t bring myself to get upset. They always give it to someone else and I just shrug my shoulders.
    In 2012, hot on the heels of reaching the final of the European Championship and winning the scudetto , I came seventh with 2.66% of the vote. Practically nothing. Messi won, with 41.6%, and then came Ronaldo (the other one), Iniesta, Xavi, Falcao and Casillas.
    I’m fine with that. There’s absolutely no doubt that Messi is No.1 and, as such, it was the right result. Over time I’ve realised that the managers, captains and journalists on the international judging panel all have a soft spot for goalscorers. As a consequence, when it comes to voting they’ve a preference for strikers, who are considered more influential than their team-mates. There are, of course, some rare exceptions, like King Cannavaro in 2006.
    It seems the most important thing is to find yourself in the right place at the right time with the ball at your feet. The assist is a mere footnote. Without the final pass there wouldn’t be a goal, but I don’t get angry if people forget that fact when they fill in their ballot paper.
    Prandelli and Buffon voted for me, but even I would have gone with the majority and chosen Messi. Granted he’s got people around him who run and sweat in his place, happy to serve those they know are simply better, but to perform at that sort of level for so many years is beyond every other human being.
    As long as he and Cristiano Ronaldo are around, it’s a two-horse race. I’m now certain that