Stillness and Speed: My Story (11 page)

So it’s not just a problem with Sosa?

‘It’s with the whole team! Either the system helps you, or the players help you, or a coach tells you how you’re going to play. But I had none of that. I was just, “OK
we’re going to play.” And I have my striking partner, which could be Pancev or Schillaci or Sosa and I’ll be adjusting to my partner because that’s my personality. But what
am I adjusting
to
? If he gets the ball, and I make my run, will I get it? From Sosa probably not.’

Ferri says Sosa’s only idea – and he was great at it – was to get the ball, turn, dribble and shoot.

‘And I can’t blame him. In private, he’s not a bad guy, but as a player, I thought: “Wait a minute, you’re killing the team!” But he probably didn’t
know anything else.’

He scored 20 goals the season before
.

‘Right. So who am I to criticise? But I’m coming from a place where everything is based on a system and patterns, and on playing creative attacking football . . . I was adjusting,
but they want me to lead! Where do you want me to lead? How?

‘In Italy they see Bagnoli as an “attacking coach”, but when he explains his idea of attacking you see how different it is to mine. He says he wants two or three passes, then a
shot on goal. That’s not attacking, that’s counter-attacking football. And that’s always based on: “First get your defence right, win the ball, and then you go.” Ask
any Dutch guy, “What is attacking football?” and he’ll say “Dominating, playing in the other team’s half.” They’re totally different things. No one told
me.
No one told me!
So when I signed my contract, Pellegrini and Piero Boschi [Inter general manager] said: “Yeah, yeah we’re going to change this all around. We’re going
to attack, we want to play pressing.” Maybe they just had a different idea of what pressing is.’

But they’d seen Sacchi’s Milan playing. And so had you. Didn’t Louis van Gaal take you all to Barcelona to see them beat Steaua Bucharest in the European Cup final in 1989?
That’s reckoned to be one of the greatest performances ever. What did you make of it?

‘Yeah, we sat with Milan fans behind one of the goals. And we were fans of Milan, too, that night. But you recognised it, you recognised the football. “Oh yeah, I know how this goes
and why . . .” You had Marco in the centre and Ruud Gullit operating from the side, mostly from the right. Right-half, wing, that sort of area. And Rijkaard in the middle, controlling the
midfield with another guy, and on the left side, I think it was Donadoni. So there’s already three strikers and a midfielder coming as well. Hey! I know what this is . . .’

You’re noticing that it’s Dutch Total Football but with an Italian flavour? Like the great Barcelona of Guardiola but with a Spanish-Catalan flavour, and Arsenal is the same with
an English-French flavour?

‘Right. It was interesting, too, what Tommaso said about how Baresi and the defenders changed when Sacchi came. They were uncomfortable, then Sacchi taught them and then Berlusconi came in
and said, “I don’t care what you think, this is how we’re doing it.” Pellegrini never did that. It’s very difficult to put your finger on the difference between Milan
and Cruyff, or between Italian football and English football, but when I think of Cruyff, what he always says is “it’s about distances”. It’s the space between players.
Sacchi used to train with ropes, and shadow playing, with eleven against zero. We did that with Arsene as well. It’s all about distances. So you learn that if your left-winger moves to make
an attack, your right-back must also move. If everyone’s got a twenty-yard rope tied to the next player, tied to the next one, tied to the next one, and so on . . . it’s like a
framework or grid moving all over the field all the time. He moves there, so this one automatically comes in, and you go back, and you go forward . . . When he ran one way, the whole team, in their
positions, ran too. He went to the left, so we went to the left. It was all based on keeping the distances correct. If I’m near the other team’s penalty area, when I look back
I’ll see Tony and Bouldy on the halfway line. The gaps should be quite small, maybe twenty or twenty-five yards between the lines.

But at Inter I’d be up there with Sosa and let’s say two midfielders have joined the attack as well . . . I look back and my defenders and the other midfielders are still deep in
their own half! There’s a huge space between us and it’s
dead
space! It’s killing me. It’s killing the team, because when you lose the ball, you’ve lost four
players who were in attack because all the rest are just sitting back waiting for the opponent to come. Now, in my opinion, that’s not pressing football! It’s not dominating football
like Barcelona, like Milan, like Arsenal, because in those teams as soon as you lose the ball, you win it back again – in their half – as soon as possible. Or, if you can’t win it
in three or five seconds, then you come back in position and make the compact thing, again with the correct distances between the players. Attacking, the distance is maybe twenty-five yards on
average. Defensively, it should be closer, about ten or fifteen. That’s so important. At Inter I always thought, “I’m on an island here!” How am I supposed to teach them all
that at the age of twenty-four? Pellegrini doesn’t understand this, obviously. And no one has said a word to Bagnoli. He’s the one who’s supposed to be teaching us in training! If
they don’t even tell him . . . no chance!’

Wim Jonk says it was Bianchi, in the second season, who tried pressing. After two games it was ‘Enough of that! It doesn’t work! Back in defence!’

‘Yes, I think Bianchi had more authority, more of a philosophy of, “Oh, I’m going to try this.”’

But you never forced the issue with Bagnoli?

‘It’s difficult to explain why. We were just married, we’re having an extended honeymoon. I’ve got a new house. I’ve got my own car instead of a leased car.
I’m trying to adjust to a different country . . . I’ve got a hundred things new in my life on a personal level. Then I’ve got another two hundred things different on a football
level! I wasn’t ready. I’m still thinking, OK I’m a good player, but I’m learning. When I moved to Inter I thought I was moving to a team with experienced players, a team
that will give me a solid basis, and I can give them something extra. That’s how it was later when I moved to Arsenal. Inter had experienced players, but they wouldn’t or couldn’t
change, go for something new. When I moved to Arsenal, it was different, like I wanted: experienced players with an open mind, willing to follow me . . .’

Inter’s idea of a good player and your idea of a good player are different, aren’t they? They’re thinking traditionally: the job of the forward is to produce something from
nothing. Give him the ball and he’ll score somehow. We’re not sure how, but he’ll find a way, it’s his job.

‘A big part of it, and I kept telling them this, is they wanted me to adjust. I’d say: “You’ve got a good player, everyone would agree with that, but how are you going to
use that talent?” That’s what I do now as a coach. You think: “How can I get the best I can out of that player?” That doesn’t just mean he has to adapt to the others.
They have to adapt to him as well. In the UEFA Cup – Bergomi said it – I scored eight goals. I was a “fantastic” player. So surely he should be thinking: “What’s
he doing that’s different? Can I help him?” Helping is not “I’ve got an idea – I’ll take him out to dinner!” That’s their own weakness, I believe.
“We don’t really know what it is, so we’ll blame him, because he doesn’t socialise!”’

You didn’t socialise much at Arsenal either
.

‘No, but does it happen in football? You go out with players you feel comfortable with. I’m not going out to dinner because it might help me in my football career. No! I’m
going out to dinner in my private life, because I enjoy it. And at that stage, in my first year, fairly or otherwise, I couldn’t say Ferri was necessarily my type of guy, you know? So, do we
hang out with each other? No, you stick with Wim because you know him. I really don’t understand this idea that that would solve the football problem. I know the idea that a team of friends
is a successful team. But it’s not true. At Arsenal some years, you bonded with more players than other years. But come on! At Inter you have to sort out the football first –
that’s where the problem is! And it’s a deep problem, a problem of different philosophies. Look at how they trained the goalkeepers. They trained very hard, but separately. Then they
come and join the rest of the team. I need shooting practice, but the goalkeepers are so tired they only try to save one shot in four. That doesn’t help me! In Holland the idea is: score as
many goals as possible, do everything to make the attack better. In Italy the most important is the goalkeeper. If he keeps a clean sheet, you can’t lose. For me, it was really mind-blowing
sometimes. I’d think, Jeez, I want to do some finishing, and we’ve got a goalkeeper who doesn’t make an effort. How can I improve my shooting? They say, “Yeah, but come on,
he’s been working hard all day.”’

I guess it comes down to this idea that they see the striker is an individualist. Ferri said it very strongly that you’re not a Ronaldo. They wanted you to be like him. When Van der
Sar went to Juventus he had to stop playing like a Dutch goalkeeper. They made him stick on his line like an Italian. He went along with that and felt later that he’d betrayed his principles.
He felt he should have said: ‘Actually I’m not doing that, I think my way is better.’ He had to come to England, to Fulham, to find himself again. After you left, Ronaldo arrived.
He was happy to play
catenaccio
style as the lone striker. He adapted and they loved him for it. You never did that. You could have tried to be Italian, like Ronaldo, be a dribbler. You
could have thought of that as adding some skills. But you seemed to see it more as losing something, not developing your art as you needed to, or not fulfilling your destiny or something. Any
thoughts?

‘I need other players around me. That’s when I become a good player, because I need them to perform like me, and I need them to be moving for me. I did learn from the Italian league.
At home the vibe is more playful: “Oh look how good I am, I can do this . . . and even this!” And in Italy it’s more a job. You’ve got one chance, and you’ve got to
make sure you score that goal. I learned a lot from that. I learned what professional football is. They do two training sessions a day. You come in at nine, you rest there in the middle of the day
and train again in the afternoon. Every minute of the day, you’re a football player. That’s what I learned there, but I would never do different than what I’m good at. I’m
not a dribbler, so I’m not going to dribble. After that conversation on the plane, I understood they wanted me to run around more, work harder. No problem. I can do that. It didn’t
help, though. I still wanted to make a difference, to score a goal or make a fantastic pass. But I’ve got no one around me. I’m frustrated, but they just didn’t care. If I was
working for the team, making space, making runs, they were happy. I could do that easily, but it wouldn’t win games. It wouldn’t make me a better player. But they’d expect it of
me. OK. I’ll do that. I’m open-minded.’

But would it actually have damaged you, trying to play their way? Would you have lost something in your game? Or added something?

‘It wasn’t my strength, but I was willing to put that in my game, and later it helped me. That sort of stuff helped me in England, where I was one hundred per cent in the game every
time. I became more business-like in winning the ball, or scoring goals, or finishing or passing. I learned the mentality: this pass has to be right, because you really only have one chance. Or
this shot has to be on target . . . that sort of stuff. That’s what I learned in Italy, but I would not have accepted them making that my game, running around. With all due respect to Italian
strikers, most of them – not all of them – are just working for the team in the four-four-two system. Just running, holding the ball, passing, getting into the box. It’s similar
to some English strikers as well, but I’ve never felt that to be my game. If I’d made the decision: “OK, I’m going to adapt to Italian football,” I would have been a
lesser player. I would have been there longer, and they would have been happier with me. But I would never have been the player I became in the end.’

You stuck to your vision?

‘No. It was more a feeling. What was I comfortable with? I thought: “This is not me.” How do you want to play football? How do you approach football? What do you feel happy
– or happier – with? What can you do? It comes down to my intention of being a better player today than yesterday, and always looking for possibilities and opportunities. I was looking
for quality instead of quantity. Higher and higher. OK, I can do this for twenty years, and at a certain pace. If I just do what they expect of me, I will be appreciated, but I will be one of . . .
many. And in my mind, I want to be different. That’s why I made the choice for Inter instead of other teams. Other teams would have been easier. I don’t want it easy. At Milan, they
would have understood immediately. I could have followed Marco, but I wouldn’t make a name for myself. I didn’t want to be a follower. I didn’t want to be “the new Van
Basten” or “the new player from Cruyff” at Barcelona. I wanted to follow my own path, my own way. I wanted to be Dennis Bergkamp, basically.’

5

D
EMOCRATIC TENDENCIES
in the Dutch national team have sometimes helped Dennis’s career. At other times they have
blighted it.

Of all the football-loving nations, the Netherlands probably has the most complex pattern of power relationships between coaches and players. Notoriously, as during the 1990 World Cup and the
European Championships of 1996 and 2012, the tendency to form cliques and argue about everything from tactics to money has turned toxic. At other times, though, Dutch democracy has proved a
strength. In 1974 and 1988, for example, groups of talented, sophisticated, strong-willed players created spectacular football precisely by taking responsibility and finding ways to work together
more effectively than anything an autocratic coach could have imposed.