Newsgroup: it.sport.calcio
Titolo: Zola intervista sul Sunday Times

September 07, 2003
The big interview: Gianfranco Zola
Ian Hawkey learns why Zola left Chelsea's Russian revolution behind
 
 
 
Most mornings, Gianfranco Zola wakes up to the sound of the ocean. On some
of them, he walks down from his beachside home to take a swim in the sea
before work. He often phones an old friend in London, somebody from Chelsea,
once he gets into his Range Rover, to tell them he can still feel the sand
between his toes, that the giant cactus plants are in flower on the road to
Assemini, where his new club, Cagliari, trains. “You know,” says Zola, “I
have to tell them these things so they don’t think they have everything.”
For all their new wealth and borderless ambition, Chelsea don’t live on a
Mediterranean island they can call home; they can’t go fishing in the
mountains at the weekend. He makes these calls as a tease. In late June,
Zola chose his native Sardinia ahead of Stamford Bridge, a decision he had
been invited to make by Cagliari for a number of years. He had just
completed a fine season at Chelsea, his seventh, had guided them into the
Champions League, and could have stayed, for more money than Cagliari can
pay him.
Love came into it, but only made the decision harder. Love was guaranteed at
Chelsea, where supporters have just voted Zola the greatest footballer in
their history. He’ll get love in Sardinia, too: he’s their prodigal son, the
island’s finest footballer of his generation. He had sleepless nights over
the choice. It would never seem the right moment to go, but a week or so
before his 37th birthday, it was a moment he could make the decision for
himself, and after all, Chelsea were close to the edge financially. Or at
least they were on the day he went.
It was a big, brave choice even then. To look back on it now is to look
through a telescope from the wrong end: from Chelsea, suddenly swollen with
riches and ambition, down to bijou Cagliari, where he is to play Pied Piper
for a team seeking promotion to Italy’s Serie A. He had barely disembarked
there when the billionaire Roman Abramovich put down his bank draft and
raised horizons. Abramovich tried to get Zola back. No go. He had given his
word to Cagliari. The club’s president, Massimo Cellino, confirms that
Abramovich’s people then rang his lawyers to ask if they could just buy
Cagliari. Grazie, but no.
Zola had crossed the threshold, made his promise. So far, so honourable,
romantic even. “Yes,” he says, “I suppose it is a romantic decision. It
wasn’t economic. I wanted to give what remains of me as a footballer to the
people here. That was the idea.”
Nice idea. Trouble is, he has returned to a viper’s nest — not Sardinia’s,
but Italian football’s. Cagliari were scheduled to start their new League
season last month. They are yet to do so. The entire Serie B campaign has
been on hold because of a raging dispute over the number of teams in the
division that reached the office of the prime minister, Silvio Berlusconi,
and bounced back unresolved. “Only in Italy,” sighs Zola. “It’s about two
sets of opinions which are both so proud they cannot step back. The
situation makes me ashamed.” He should finally pull on the No 10 shirt of
Cagliari in a League match today, away against Catania, but he will do so
disenchanted. The fallout from the great Serie B scandal continues. Cellino,
the president who bought Zola home, is so fed up that on Friday he put
Cagliari up for sale. “You tell that Russian guy to come back and buy us
again,” Cellino said to me. “This time I’ll sell. I have had it with the
crooks in the Italian Fed- eration. Gianfranco is bigger than all this, he
will look after Cagliari.”
So Zola will be their Pied Piper, but in torn clothes and with a wistfulness
for Chelsea that he struggles to shake off. Regrets? A few. “It is a pity,”
he says. “If Chelsea hadn’t been going through all their problems, then
probably I wouldn’t be here now. It took me time to find a cause for leaving
Chelsea. Perhaps it was meant to be. And honestly, it’s a good feeling being
home and playing for the people I grew up with.”
Compensation comes through the little things: “When I’ve finished a game, I
know I can take my car and in an hour-and-a-half I can be at my mother and
father’s house, with my kids and my cousins, and I can go out fishing in the
mountains and be at the places I used to play when I was a child. For me,
that’s a fantastic feeling. I care about these things.”
But Knightsbridge it is not. “Chelsea was a wonderful story,” says Zola.
Every day he is reminded how valued he was, not only in west London, but
across English football. Some polls have named him the most influential
foreign footballer of the Premiership’s past decade. In Cagliari’s club
offices, down by the city’s port, there is a thick file of correspondence
from fans in England wishing him well and inquiring about how to get hold of
Cagliari No 10 shirts. The Sardinians have sent over a consignment to
Stamford Bridge.
“What happened to me over there was something totally out of the ordinary,”
he acknowledges. “When I went to Chelsea, I was 30. I didn’t think I’d have
seven years there. But from day one, I had the desire to become somebody
important. I wanted to prove I could do well.”
Gone, but not forgotten. In the mind’s eye, he keeps a lasting place for
moments such as the goal to win the 1998 Cup Winners’ Cup and the gymnastic
mid-air backheel against Norwich City 18 months ago; in the heart, he’ll
have a place long after those images have faded.
Why does he think he was so popular in England? It’s a hard one for a
genuinely modest man to answer. “Maybe it was because I’m a performer, and I
like to win, but I also like to win properly, respecting the others, which
is the right way to do sport. I don’t think I am the best player to have
played in that country, but I am one of the players that played it with the
right spirit — me among others. I guess people appreciated that.”
He arrived in England at the right time, too, a period when he could make a
difference, raise standards, be a part of history. “I came at the moment
there was great change, as a consequence of the Bosman law. They were
importing lots of new players, and that wasn’t always an easy thing to take
for the supporters, people complaining about too many foreigners. My answer
was if they are the right players, they will do good for the young players
around them. They can teach another style. Seven years ago, I think about
70% of the teams were playing football one way, which was bypassing the
midfield. Now, I think in the Premiership, 70% of teams are trying to play
their way through. The quality has improved, there’s greater technique and
there are very good young players coming through: Michael Owen, Wayne
Rooney, Jermaine Jenas.”
The culture he joined reminded him of the Italy he had grown up in. “If you
only have one influence, you can only do the one thing. If you have several,
your brain opens up. It’s about knowledge. When I first started playing
properly, it was 1986. There was a lot of money in Italian football, with
wonderful players: Diego Maradona, Michel Platini. I had in front of me
fantastic players, not just on television, but close to me. Without them, I
wouldn’t have done what I have done.”
What he did was build a career that crosses epochs. He won his first and
only League title with Maradona’s Napoli in 1990, added Uefa and Cup
Winners’ Cups with Parma and Chelsea, and a succession of FA and League
Cups. He played 35 times for Italy — not quite enough, by his estimation.
“In the big tournaments I always had problems. Euro 96 was one example. In
the third game I missed a penalty, which was like a punch in the face. I do
have regrets about that. I feel it’s something I could have done better in.
It’s like a spot on my career.”
ZOLA’S relationship with Italy is one thing. With Sardinia he has something
else, nationalism of the civilised variety. The island has its own take on
the mainland, 120 miles away, although from parts of Sardinia it might as
well be in a different hemisphere. The mountainous interior, Zola country,
has its idiosyncrasies, villages where an unusual number of people live well
into their hundreds. Some Sardinians would say it’s genetic. “There may be
something in that,” says Paolo Cugia, Cagliari’s club doctor. “If you look
at our history, there have not been many invasions, so you get pure
bloodlines.
“I think Gianfranco’s strength and fitness are mainly his own work. When he
came here, he was passing our medical tests with the results you’d expect of
a 20-year-old.”
Zola was born in Oliena, a town just east of dead-centre Sardinia, to
parents who farmed. His father supplemented that with truck driving. Their
son’s success has since given the Zolas the means to buy a bar and work a
small vineyard. Zola likes to imagine his status as Oliena’s greatest export
is being challenged by the fine local vintage. “Oliena is famous for wine
and for olive oil,” he beams. “I’m not a big drinker of wine, though just
recently I’ve started to have it a little more.”
He has never been a drinker, or a smoker, and always set the best example at
Chelsea for diligence with his fitness. It shows. Zola looks anything but
37, save for the deep laugh-lines on an animated face. He is tanned, and the
top of his hair has turned a little blonder for two months under a fierce
Mediterranean sun. “I’m in good shape physically because I looked after
myself in the past,” he says. “I’ve had luck as well. I never had major
injuries. By looking after myself, I have been able to get some extra
seasons. I’m probably not what I was five years ago physically, but it’s
more about stamina than sharpness or reflexes.”
As for Sardinianism, he would rather define it as something in the psyche
than the genes. “A Sardinian is very proud, but we are good people,
straightforward, who appreciate hard work. It’s an island where life isn’t
easy. It’s only recently become famous for tourism, and before that it was
always farming. There are no big industries over here.
“People have always worked hard. Throughout history we have been
underestimated, we are far away from the centres of power, and sometimes we
have been penalised for that. So, yes, we want to prove we are capable of
doing great things. We like other people when they are nice; when they’re
not nice . . . well, we can be hard. And we are stubborn.”
Is he stubborn? Zola lets go one of his big, wide smiles: “Oooh, I can be
very stubborn, more than you could possibly imagine.” One or two of his
coaches could imagine. Zola can be a feisty employee.
Indeed, he explains, he ended up at Chelsea because of his wilfulness. It
was the autumn of 1996, and he had been at the top of his game for some
three years at Parma when their manager, Carlo Ancelotti, asked him to take
up an unfamiliar, deep position to accommodate two new strikers, Hernan
Crespo — now his replacement at Chelsea — and Enrico Chiesa.
Zola felt uncomfortable with it, and said so. “The first four years I was at
Parma I had played my best football ever, but after Euro 96, something broke
down. I came back to a situation at Parma which didn’t help me recover.
There were discussions about my position. So I preferred a change of scene.
I didn’t think it was right for me to alter my position, so I left. Maybe I
was being stubborn. But because of my stubbornness, I made the best decision
of my life.”
Chelsea, then coached by Ruud Gullit, paid Parma about £4.5m that November,
and by the next May, Zola was being elected Footballer of the Year.
Chelsea were already a cosmopolitan side, and the Italian in them had begun
with the arrivals of Roberto di Matteo and Gianluca Vialli. When Gullit left
suddenly, Vialli replaced him as manager — an appointment that would alter
the relationship between Zola and Vialli, change it for the worse. Vialli
irked Zola by regularly putting him on the substitutes’ bench. It is safe to
report that Zola did not keep his unhappiness a great secret. “We had
different opinions when he didn’t play me. It’s been very useful for me, my
relationship with him,” says Zola. “I’ve learnt something from it. When I
look back, I know there was always respect. When it was an important game,
he always played me.”
And Vialli’s sacking? “It’s normal he was upset. He probably didn’t expect
to be sacked at that moment. What was important is that everybody over
there, the Chelsea supporters, remember Vialli as a good manager.”
Are they in touch? “We’ve played golf a few times. He got married recently,
and he’s working for television in Italy. I haven’t spoken to him a lot, but
I know that in time I will.”
In time, Luca and Franco may reminisce about a Chelsea that already seems
quaint next to the Abramovich monster. They may compare the Chelsea of Steve
Clarke and Dennis Wise with the £100m-plus team of Juan Sebastian Veron and
Crespo. “Sometimes I look back and I can’t believe it,” says Zola. “It’s
like a dream. We used to watch other clubs spending a lot of money. We’d
look at Real Madrid buying everybody. And now you see Chelsea spending even
more. To be involved must be incredible.”
Will New Chelsea play like Real Madrid? “I hope it works,” replies Zola,
cautiously. “Money is important, but it’s not everything. Sometimes you can
have the best players without having the best team. Look at Real Madrid.
They only won their League at the last minute. We have to see how Chelsea
settle. You don’t play this game as individuals. They look competitive in
every department, so they are going to be up there. Whether they win things,
I don’t know.”
How often does he wish he was with them, albeit queuing up with the
Hasselbainks and Gudjohnsens for a place in the starting XI? “It took a lot
to decide to come here. The bind between me and Chelsea was so strong. I had
possibilities to go elsewhere before, and I didn’t.
“Cagliari insisted, they waited for me again and again, and that was the
key. I was crying out with the difficulty of the decision. Even when I had
signed, it felt difficult. But, yes, if what has happened to Chelsea had
happened earlier, then the story might be different. That doesn’t mean this
is an alternative. I’m pleased to be here. In the end, I feel, it might be
the right thing.”
In the end. But calcio has done nothing yet to persuade him of that.
First, because his new career has been suffocated by the chaos surrounding
Serie B. The scandal started because Catania successfully appealed in court
against relegation to Serie C1 last season (an opponent had fielded an
ineligible player against them). It finished up with four extra teams
shoehorned into a division where budgets were already tight to breaking
point, and which now lives with a delay that will clutter the fixture list
until June.
Second, because Zola finds much in Italian football that makes him despair.
The league he left in the mid-1990s as the strongest, most glamorous in the
world has turned into one of the more rotten.
And now he talks like a man who needs to get it off his chest. “I’ll tell
you something,” he begins. “I’ve been here nearly two months, and we as a
team haven’t yet spoken about the game itself. We’ve been concerned with a
problem here or another problem there. I can hardly recognise the sport here
in Italy. Football should not be only about winning and losing, it should be
about the spirit. Sometimes I don’t recognise any spirit.
I sometimes watch the football shows on the television, and for 55 minutes
they are talking about the problems, and for five minutes they’ll show some
football. I can’t really get used to it. There is something wrong with it.
People don’t follow football for the arguments, they follow it for the game.
I’m sorry about that, because this is the way to spoil it.
“I said to myself, ‘I’ve come over here, having played for a great team over
there. Let’s see if I can transmit something. Let’s see if I can see people
going to the stadium the way they used to, smiling and with their families’.
I don’t see it here.”
Who’s to blame? “It’s the way the game has been managed recently. The people
in high positions are looking after many things, but they’re not looking
after the spirit of the game. They should look at the general picture, not
just for what somebody’s going to get out of this or that.
“Over here, there are the big teams who want to put their man in the top
seat, so they can have their advantages. That’s not right. Unfortunately,
what suffers is the game itself. I’m sorry if I come across as too
sentimental, but that is what football is to me. I hope I’m not unusual like
that. Otherwise we are in trouble. Most players do care. Of course they look
after their finances, they try to get more money if they can. But I know
that deep inside, when they are on the pitch, what they are looking for is
enjoyment. You look at the faces of players then, and you can be assured
they are doing this for the enjoyment.
“What has happened here in Italy is very sad, because this game has a
precise role in our society: it’s supposed to be enjoyable for the people.
But here, it doesn’t look to me as if people are enjoying it very much.”
 
 
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