I Am Zlatan

Páginas: 468 (116928 palabras) Publicado: 21 de febrero de 2013
"I AM ZLATAN"
By Zlatan Ibrahimovic as told to David Lagercrantz
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This book is dedicated to my family and friends, to those who have stood by my side, on good days and
bad.
I also want to dedicate it to all the kids out there, those who feel different and don't fit in.
Those who are seen for the wrong reasons. It'sOK to be different. Continue being yourself. It worked out
for me.

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CHAPTER 1

Pep Guardiola, the coach in Barcelona, with his grey suits and troubled face, came up to me looking
concerned.
I thought he was all right at that time, certainly not a Mourinho or Capello, but an ok guy. This was way
before westarted our war. It was the fall of 2009 and I was living my childhood dream. I was playing in
the best team in the world and had been welcomed by 70 000 people at the Camp Nou. I was walking on
clouds. Well maybe not entirely, there were some bullshit in the papers. I was the bad boy and all that. I
was difficult dealing with. But still, I was here. Helena and the kids were also good. We had a nicehouse
in Esplugues de Llobregat and I felt fully charged. What could go wrong?
"Hey you", Guardiola said. "Here in Barca we keep our feet down on the ground."
"Sure", I said. "Fine."
"Here we don't drive any Ferraris or Porsches to training."
I nodded, didn't go cocky on him, like how the fuck is what car I'm driving your concern? But I thought
"What does he want? What message is he givingme? Believe me, I don't need any fancy cars or parking
on the sidewalk to show off anymore. That wasn't it. I love my cars. They're a passion of mine, but I
sensed something else behind his words. Kind of: don't think you're so special.
I had already at that point understood that Barca is like a school. The players were all nice, nothing wrong
with them, and there was Maxwell, my old friendfrom Ajax and Inter. But honestly, none of the guys acted
like superstars, and I thought that was odd. Messi, Xavi, Iniesta, the whole gang, was like school kids.
The world's best players stood there nodding, and I couldn't understand that. It was ridiculous. If a coach
in Italy says "jump", the players ask "what? Why should we jump?"
Here, everyone jumped at any command. I didn't fit in, not atall. But I was thinking: Accept the situation.
Don't confirm their thoughts about you. So I started adapting. I became too kind. It was insane. Mino
Raiola, my agent, my friend, said:
"What's wrong with you Zlatan? I don't recognize you."
No one recognized me, not my buddies, no one. I became boring, bland, and you should know that ever
since Malmö FF I've had one philosophy: I run my ownrace. I don't give a damn what people think and
I've never felt comfortable with authority. I like guys who run the red light, if you know what I mean.
But now… I didn't say what I wanted. I said what I thought people expected of me. It was wack. I drove
the club's Audi and stood there nodding like back in school, or like I should have stood nodding back in
school. I didn't give my team mates anycrap. I was boring. Zlatan wasn't Zlatan, and that hadn't happen
since back in school when I saw chicks in Ralph Lauren shirts for the first time and almost shit my pants
when I was asking them out. But still, I started the season great. I scored goal after goal after goal. We
won the UEFA Super Cup. I was shining. I dominated. But I was somebody else. Something had

happened, nothingserious, not yet. I had been silenced, and that's dangerous, believe me. I have to be
mad to play well. I have to shout and make scenes. Now I kept all that within me. Maybe it had to do with
all pressure. I don't know.
I was the second most expensive transfer in history, and the papers kept saying I was a problem child
and had issues with my personality, all kinds of bullshit, and unfortunately...
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