My football heroes (10), Franco Baresi
Mar. 12th, 2005 07:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gerbieMy football heroes (10), Franco Baresi
I wasn’t really aware of him until the Dutch stars moved to Milan. Obviously I knew his name. Knew he played for Milan and Italy, but as a young boy Spanish and English football are much more exciting than Italian football. Spanish teams attack, English teams fight, Italian teams defend. The world is simple at age 12, especially when the brilliant Brazilian team gets knocked out of the World Cup by Italy.
5 years later I am getting older, see more nuances and got to see the art of the game. Apart from that I moved from winger via central midfield to sweeper in those 5 years myself. This means that I was playing the same position as Baresi. There were more similarities: I wore the same shirt as him, as my club played in red and black since 90 years as well and I also liked to be the start of the attack, not just another defender who stopped the opposition.
When Gullit, Van Basten and Rijkaard started at Milan, the team suddenly got fashionable. This meant that every week Dutch television showed their matches in a time when foreign football was still exotic and European matches were still a highlight once every few Wednesdays. The Milan team played a great attacking game, something very un-Italian, the influence of the Dutch players was immediately visible. Yet however important the Dutch threesome were, the true leader of the team was their number six. The playmaker coming from his own defence. The character with his old face, yet such a young spirit.
Everything was right about him. His rushes from behind were great to watch and always a threat for the opposition. His defence was up to scratch. Italian efficiency, yet never the hateful violence like Vierchowod and Bergomi. He looked like a forty year old veteran, yet he was still in his twenties. He was the leader of the team, yet never aspired the media attention and stardom several of his team mates (Gullit, Donadoni, Evani) loved. His durability at Milan, in a time when 4 years at the same club could get you a memorial and 10 years meant you had the stands named after you.
I tried to play like Baresi at my level. By the time I entered the senior ranks several managers didn’t dare play me at sweeper though. Why play a 19 year old there, even if he should play there, if you can put a 30 year old veteran at that position. I was back up front or in midfield. At 21 I played several matches at sweeper again, played them well even. We beat some well paid amateurs from Germany in a friendly; we avoided relegation with me leading the defence. Yet it lasted until age 24 before I had a regular spot there. I played my best season. We barely missed promotion, I was the only one to play every single match that season and I felt at ease in a team that appreciated my style of play.
Summer 1996 I worked in Italy. I saw Milan play bad against Verona in their first league match of the season. It was the match everyone remembered for the goal Weah scored picking up the ball in his own box and crossing the whole field. I was happy to see my first ever Italian match, even happier that it had been such a memorable one, but sad my hero wasn’t on the pitch. I bought an illegal replica shirt outside the stadium for 20.000 lire. Up until then everyone at my club recognised me for wearing old T-shirts and ugly sweaters. I was surrounded with Feyenoord, Ajax and several English shirts twice every week. I didn’t do adoration. Yet I bought this Baresi shirt and wore it several times as well. He retired a year later and the club gave him a goodbye that will not easily be forgotten. The first football player to have his shirt retired, nobody at Milan will ever wear his number 6 anymore.
The only player I really admired and tried to emulate retired in 1997, after 18 years of top football for his club and his country. Many will remember him for the missed penalty kick against Brazil in the world cup final; I will remember him for being the greatest sweeper of my time.
I wasn’t really aware of him until the Dutch stars moved to Milan. Obviously I knew his name. Knew he played for Milan and Italy, but as a young boy Spanish and English football are much more exciting than Italian football. Spanish teams attack, English teams fight, Italian teams defend. The world is simple at age 12, especially when the brilliant Brazilian team gets knocked out of the World Cup by Italy.
5 years later I am getting older, see more nuances and got to see the art of the game. Apart from that I moved from winger via central midfield to sweeper in those 5 years myself. This means that I was playing the same position as Baresi. There were more similarities: I wore the same shirt as him, as my club played in red and black since 90 years as well and I also liked to be the start of the attack, not just another defender who stopped the opposition.
When Gullit, Van Basten and Rijkaard started at Milan, the team suddenly got fashionable. This meant that every week Dutch television showed their matches in a time when foreign football was still exotic and European matches were still a highlight once every few Wednesdays. The Milan team played a great attacking game, something very un-Italian, the influence of the Dutch players was immediately visible. Yet however important the Dutch threesome were, the true leader of the team was their number six. The playmaker coming from his own defence. The character with his old face, yet such a young spirit.
Everything was right about him. His rushes from behind were great to watch and always a threat for the opposition. His defence was up to scratch. Italian efficiency, yet never the hateful violence like Vierchowod and Bergomi. He looked like a forty year old veteran, yet he was still in his twenties. He was the leader of the team, yet never aspired the media attention and stardom several of his team mates (Gullit, Donadoni, Evani) loved. His durability at Milan, in a time when 4 years at the same club could get you a memorial and 10 years meant you had the stands named after you.
I tried to play like Baresi at my level. By the time I entered the senior ranks several managers didn’t dare play me at sweeper though. Why play a 19 year old there, even if he should play there, if you can put a 30 year old veteran at that position. I was back up front or in midfield. At 21 I played several matches at sweeper again, played them well even. We beat some well paid amateurs from Germany in a friendly; we avoided relegation with me leading the defence. Yet it lasted until age 24 before I had a regular spot there. I played my best season. We barely missed promotion, I was the only one to play every single match that season and I felt at ease in a team that appreciated my style of play.
Summer 1996 I worked in Italy. I saw Milan play bad against Verona in their first league match of the season. It was the match everyone remembered for the goal Weah scored picking up the ball in his own box and crossing the whole field. I was happy to see my first ever Italian match, even happier that it had been such a memorable one, but sad my hero wasn’t on the pitch. I bought an illegal replica shirt outside the stadium for 20.000 lire. Up until then everyone at my club recognised me for wearing old T-shirts and ugly sweaters. I was surrounded with Feyenoord, Ajax and several English shirts twice every week. I didn’t do adoration. Yet I bought this Baresi shirt and wore it several times as well. He retired a year later and the club gave him a goodbye that will not easily be forgotten. The first football player to have his shirt retired, nobody at Milan will ever wear his number 6 anymore.
The only player I really admired and tried to emulate retired in 1997, after 18 years of top football for his club and his country. Many will remember him for the missed penalty kick against Brazil in the world cup final; I will remember him for being the greatest sweeper of my time.
