Carlo Ancelotti

Lunch with the Financial Times: Carlo Ancelotti

The food-loving Italian talks about managing galactic egos and how big businesses like his new club Bayern Munich can still be a family

"German is the hardest language.” Bavaria-bound Carlo Ancelotti remembers the relative doddle of English, Spanish and French when he grapples with the snaking compound nouns of his new home. “And the verbs,” he groans, “sometimes they go in the second position in a sentence, and then again at the end.” He puffs out his cheeks and — there it is — raises the arced left eyebrow that is the most celebrated feature on his Federico Fellini face.

Even in the bland livery of successful men — navy jacket, tieless pale-blue shirt — the 56-year-old Italian football coach is distinctive enough to obviate any need for a caricature. This summer Bayern Munich joins Juventus, Milan, Chelsea, Paris Saint-Germain and Real Madrid as the sixth European super-club to submit to his leadership. He will arrive from Vancouver — where he has a home with his Canadian wife, Mariann — and he will win major prizes. We know this because he always does.

The hand that shakes mine at Babbo, an Italian restaurant of his choosing in Mayfair, has lifted the Champions League trophy three times. It is a record in the modern history of Europe’s highest competition. He has prospered in four countries. Steeped in glory, loved by players for his light touch, he is probably the most coveted coach in the world.

He is also the only one you can imagine choosing a club by the local restaurants. Food plays the cameo in most Lunches with the FT but Ancelotti, a gourmand, makes it central to this one. My resolve to order lightly — I usually avoid daytime eating altogether — melts in the glare of his keenness. We ask for some starters to share, of which the best-judged is a baked aubergine melanzane with a layer of cheese that knocks the adjacent plate of burrata into apologetic irrelevance. “You like Italian food?” he checks, and I nod, deciding not to sell him on the superiority of Spanish.

Babbo is technically superb but very Mayfair. Four old women in pearls and taffeta sit near us, two hedgies of indeterminate nationality squint at my guest between mouthfuls from the other side of the room. I give him the name of an edgier trattoria in Islington and he rolls it around his mouth a few times as if committing it to memory. This is a man who titled his autobiography Preferisco La Coppa, which declares an ambition for trophies and a taste for ham in one three-word pun.

Italians can be unswervingly faithful to the produce of their region but Ancelotti, who grew up in Emilia-Romagna in the north, veers as far as next-door Tuscany for his wine. He summons a bottle of Guidalberto — “I don’t need to try it, I know this wine” — a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot that mimics the strength of claret without zapping you into a thousand-night coma.

For Ancelotti, football clubs are either “families”, such as AC Milan, or “companies”, of which Juventus is a purring example. With his genial style, his cultivation of personal bonds with players and directors, it is clear which he prefers. Silvio Berlusconi ran Milan as a patriarch, involving himself intimately with technical matters. The Agnelli family, which still owns Juve, preferred to put systems in place and keep itself in reserve for strategic judgments. As he raises his glass, I ask him to categorise Bayern. “I have not had so many meetings with them but I think it is a family,” he says, perhaps sanguinely of an institution that is part-owned by Audi, Adidas and Allianz. “They have former players on the board. The club is 70 per cent owned by members.”

It is certainly corporate in its ruthless pursuit of players. I wonder who he rates among the nascent talents of world football and that eyebrow vaults up again. “I cannot tell you on the record because the price will go up,” he says, before naming teenagers from France and Brazil, even taking out his phone to show me the latter. “Don’t tell Arsène Wenger!”

He is more candid about the established greats he has already managed. There is special affection for Cristiano Ronaldo, a self-motivating near-cyborg who took 3am ice baths in Real Madrid’s training complex. “Even though he had Irina Shayk waiting for him at home!” Ancelotti yelps, referring to the Portuguese’s former lover. “He does not care about money, he just wants to be the first” — meaning the best. Other favoured sons include Andrea Pirlo, who played the midfield role Ancelotti himself held down for Milan and Italy in the 1980s, and the country’s decorated goalkeeper Gigi Buffon (“I found him at 17 in the Parma academy”).

We have both ordered the lobster main course. The dish turns out to be a filleted hunk of the crustacean atop a morass of tagliolini. Like all the best pasta, it is moreish for reasons of texture rather than taste. Having no potent flavour to vie with, Ancelotti’s choice of wine suddenly comes into its own. It is as though he does this a lot.

 . . . 

Before our lunch, I test Ancelotti’s name on friends who care little or nought for football but know their José Mourinho from their Pep Guardiola. Most had never heard of him. Two assumed I meant Claudio Ranieri of Leicester City. One knew the name but could not place the face. His lack of cut-through — which, like all things in life, fails to trouble this equable soul — owes everything to the brand of quiet leadership that is also the name of his new management book.

Most elite coaches today are incendiary. There is Diego Simeone at Atlético Madrid, with his bandit chic. Liverpool contains, just about, the white heat of Jürgen Klopp’s enthusiasm. Guardiola is bringing his Rasputin intensity from Bayern to Manchester City. Ancelotti has none of this. “My character is quiet,” he says quietly. “It is because of my family. My father was quiet. He never shouted. He never kicked me. My mother also. That is the fundamental reason.”

His book describes a manager who nudges more than he pushes, often going along with conclusions reached independently by his players instead of mandating his own. Leaders within a squad are, he believes, “chosen by the group, not the manager or the president”, and the Dutchman Clarence Seedorf was one of these natural characters at Milan. During his time there, Ancelotti had to cram a galaxy of talent into four midfield positions. With gentle shepherding from him, the players thought themselves into the “diamond” formation — with Pirlo at its base, the Brazilian Kaká at its tip, and Seedorf and Manuel Rui Costa, a lavishly gifted Portuguese, either side — that gleamed on the European stage.

Between sips, I ask whether he feels under-exalted, at least outside the game’s cognoscenti. “You have possibilities to be angry every single day,” he says. “But the happiness is not in the credit, it is in the work, in the relationship with the players, with the staff. I don’t worry what they put in newspapers.”

Lots of people in public life say that last sentence. Ancelotti means it. If anything, obscurity means privacy, especially in Canada. Even after decades in the Italian countryside and Europe’s great cities, he is thrown by Vancouver’s gorgeous setting. “The beach, the mountains . . . ”

He does not take material comfort for granted. The Ancelotti family worked, but did not own, the farm on which he was raised, turning out slabs of Parmesan cheese to a grateful world. Rural life left him with a discriminating palate (he has a mental map of Italian restaurants worth a damn in London, Paris, Vancouver and Madrid) and a dialect that can stump his own countrymen.

Football-barmy in the Italian way, he launched his career as a tactically astute midfielder at nearby Parma. From there he went to Roma, in the capital, which could have been Saturn for this country boy. A knee injury put him out of the 1982 World Cup that Italy won but no bitterness lingers, just gratitude for a career that survived. “You are 23 and you don’t know if you can play again,” he recalls with a wince. “The physical therapy was terrible in those days.”

In 1987, Ancelotti made the move that changed his life. A figure of fun called Arrigo Sacchi brought him to Milan. Until then, Italians had favoured a defensive mode of play called catenaccio. “It means this,” he says, tapping the lock on a door next to our table. Sacchi smashed convention by drilling his players to challenge for the ball — or “press” — high up the field, forcing opponents into errors and exploiting them with a lethal batch of imported forwards such as the Dutch great Marco van Basten. Ancelotti was the point of fixity in this swarm, which dominated Europe and still inspires modern coaches.

Sacchi turned out to be no joke. His pressing game is visible today from Liverpool to Munich. Some of the most in-demand players are midfielders who seldom score or assist but have the sangfroid and close-control to retain the ball under intense pressure. Clubs have upgraded their fitness and conditioning regimes to sustain the physical effort Sacchi-ism demands.

As a player at Milan, Ancelotti served as an on-field conduit for these visions. A deep-lying midfielder must think systemic thoughts about the game, like a coach. After a season or two in the position, a future in management is virtually hard-wired. Not coincidentally, Simeone and Guardiola mastered versions of the role as players. Sure enough, after helping Sacchi steer Italy to the 1994 World Cup final, Ancelotti returned to his roots to start his own coaching career: first with Reggiana, then Parma.

Success took him to Juventus and the lofty echelon of clubs from which he has never stooped since. There was Milan, where he clinched two of his Champions Leagues and assembled that luminous midfield. Then Chelsea, where he won the league and cup double in his first season. Then Paris Saint-Germain, where he won the league and imposed professional standards on a club that had more ambition than know-how (“There was no restaurant for the players”). And then, two years ago, la decima — a tenth Champions League for Real Madrid, and a hat-trick for Ancelotti.

No tactical revolutions, no psychological ploys, no memorable quotes, just frictionless success in all of Europe’s major leagues. There is no record quite like it. Zlatan Ibrahimovic, a player who surrenders compliments as though they singe his throat, says Ancelotti is the best coach in the world.

On the subject of galactic egos, how does a quiet man bend them to his will? “There are things where you can be elastic,” he explains, “and things where you must be strong. If the players say ‘Coach, we have a tough week, can we stay in bed one more hour?’ that is OK. But when I have a meeting before the game, you must be on time. At Chelsea, we had a meeting at 10.30am and [Didier] Drogba was not there. I don’t know if it was traffic or what. He came at 11. He didn’t play.”

What Ancelotti lacks in fire, he more than covers with deep, deep sanity. Quiet leadership, to judge by the book and his personal manner, is less a technique than a disposition, an aura. By standing still in football’s storm of hype and cupidity, he reassures players. He coaches like he played, always providing that fixed point from which others can do spectacular things. The Chelsea squad of 2010 was not so different to the one that fell short in the previous three seasons. The talent was there. Ancelotti got out of its way.

The criticism is that, like a less provocative Mourinho, he is ultimately a hired gun. He slides into great clubs, wins prizes commensurate with their station and moves on without leaving his imprint. He is not associated with a style of play like Guardiola, or with a litter of youngsters he nurtured to greatness, like Klopp in his stint at Borussia Dortmund. He is curiously identity-less, like a restaurant in Mayfair.

Maybe that is what it takes to live an itinerant life. He has gone farther, seen more, than his rustic roots ever promised. I press him for his favourite posting. “France is difficult because football is not always number one. They have rugby and cycling. They also have some violence in PSG. England has the best atmosphere, the best stadiums and no violence,” he says. Despite leaving Italy seven years ago, the disorder and vegetating infrastructure blighting parts of its league, which was Europe’s best as recently as the 1990s, still pains him.

“England is different. When I was with Chelsea, we went to play up in Sunderland. The bus could not drive all the way to the entrance. So the security man from the stadium says, ‘It’s OK, get out and walk.’ I say, ‘No, I don’t go!’ There were Sunderland fans all around. After some time, we had to do it.”

And it was OK?

“It was perfect. Some fans took pictures. No trouble. I never received an insult in England, ever.”

We ask for espressos in lieu of dessert but, before the waiter can retreat, Ancelotti has an idea. “You like grappa?” Yes, Carlo. So what began as an ascetic denial of a sugar rush has turned into a spread of caffeine hits, petits fours and Italy’s answer to sherry. I try to pay but Ancelotti has already arranged something with the proprietor. How quiet. How effective.

Janan Ganesh is the FT’s political columnist

Illustration by James Ferguson

http://www.ft.com/intl/cms/s/0/720cae92-1c32-11e6-a7bc-ee846770ec15.html

You’ve previously said you were “very poor” growing up as a child. What lessons did you learn from that?
Andy Woodman, via Twitter

I remember that time of my life, and it is true we didn’t have money to spend, but I grew up in a wonderful family – a working family. It was a quiet, peaceful time. My father never shouted at me. I lived with my whole family; my father, my mother, my sister and my grandparents. That time built my character. My family worked on the land – they were farmers. We made Parmesan cheese. I still know how to make it to this day. Every morning we would take the milk from the cows to make the cheese.

What was the highlight of your time at Milan as a player, and what was it like to play with so many legends of the game?
Don Keeper, via Facebook

I chose the right time to go to Milan, didn’t I? It was a really, really fantastic team, and we played for a manager who knew exactly what he wanted. Arrigo Sacchi was doing something new in football with how we were organised, and he taught us to express ourselves, which helped us to stay at the top. I had a great relationship with Paolo Maldini and Franco Baresi, but Sacchi was the key.

Which was the better team: Milan during the 1980s or the Barcelona side of 2015?
Terry Menton, via Twitter

[Laughs] That is a really difficult one to answer because football has changed so much since the ’80s. Honestly, I think Barcelona play with more intensity now. But it is hard to compare because the rules of the game have changed, especially with the offside rule. It is much easier to score goals these days because it is harder to keep the defensive line so high. Now, you are offside only if you are the player touching the ball or near it, whereas when I played for Milan everyone had to be behind the line.

What did you learn from working as Arrigo Sacchi’s assistant with Italy at the 1994 World Cup? How did you console Roberto Baggio after his penalty miss in the final?
Johnson Neil, via Twitter

Being with him for three years was a good experience. I learned the methodology of training, and also about strategy and focusing on the little details. I didn’t speak to Baggio after the final, because what can you really say? Our two best penalty-takers were him and Baresi, and they both missed. It is a lottery; it is a mental situation and not a technical one.

Why did the Juventus fans not like you when you managed there? Did it feel like revenge when you beat them with Milan in the 2003 Champions League Final [above]?
Nick Gove, Battersea

The problem with me and the Juventus fans was that I had been a Milan and Roma player, and they didn’t like that. During the 1980s there was a big rivalry between Juventus and Milan – they were always going for the title – and before that in 1983 I had been part of the Roma team who had beaten Juventus to the title; a great Juventus side, too, with Platini, Boniek, Gentile, Scirea and Zoff. I wouldn’t call it revenge, but it was strange to play the final of the Champions League against a team that had sacked me not long before. But that was the first time I had ever won the Champions League as a manager, so my emotions were not of revenge – just of happiness.

You’ve won more Champions League trophies than Serie A titles: three to one. Is it a regret you didn’t win more?
James Burgett, Pisa

Yes, a little bit, because at Milan I had the possibility to win more titles but a lot of the time we finished second. I also came second with Parma in 1997. The regret is that I should have won more titles with Milan because I had a fantastic squad. We did well in the Champions League, playing in three finals and winning two, but yes, we should have won more league titles.

How do you explain losing the 2005 Champions League Final to Liverpool after leading 3-0 at half-time? Could you have done anything differently to stop their incredible comeback in Istanbul?
Lance Baumatan, London

I look back at this quite often, but I don’t think there is anything I could have done differently. It was all about six minutes. We played for 114 minutes; Liverpool played for six minutes. That’s the truth of it. It was a very strange game. You know, I took this Milan team to three Champions League finals, and 2005 was actually the best we played – but it was the only one we lost! [FFT: Were your players celebrating at half-time? Did they think they had already won?] No, no, this is bulls**t. Bulls**t! We were very happy because we had played a fantastic first half, but we knew we had another half to play. Even at 3-3 we should have won it in the last minute when [Andriy] Shevchenko had a chance in front of goal, but [Jerzy] Dudek saved it.

Your Chelsea side won the Premier League in record style in 2009-10, breaking the 100-goal barrier. What was your secret?
Laurie Arbor, Brighton

We just had great players – guys like Nicolas Anelka, Didier Drogba, Frank Lampard and Michael Ballack – and a great shape that season. That was the key. Above all, the players were comfortable with their positions.

What went wrong in your second season at Chelsea? How did you feel about Ray Wilkins leaving without you knowing?
Lester Scott, via Twitter

We started well, then had a lot of injuries. We had [John] Terry, [Michael] Essien and Drogba out. I was not happy with Ray being sacked as it was during the season. I wanted to keep him.

How did it feel when Roman Abramovich came into the dressing room after losing a Champions League quarter-final in 2011 to Manchester United? Did it undermine you?
Gareth Porter, Shirley

It is usual for the owner to come into the dressing room after a game to say hello. But at that moment, after losing that game, everyone was a little bit embarrassed. There was total silence. I tried to break it with a little speech.

Did you deserve better than to be sacked by Chelsea on the final day of the season, straight after the game against Everton at Goodison Park?
Lizzie Broom, Surrey

No, I knew the situation, and I knew it was coming. I was in the dressing room, but it was no shock, because to be sacked is just part of your job. There is no manager who has never been sacked. OK, maybe Pep Guardiola, who has decided to leave clubs, but he has had only a short career in management so far – just eight years.

Did Chelsea ask you to return to the club last year to replace Jose Mourinho?
Edward Houghton, via Twitter

No, no. But I would have no problem going back to Chelsea. My experience with Chelsea, and in English football, was fantastic.

How did you approach managing Zlatan Ibrahimovic and his famously large ego during your time coaching PSG?
Caroline Khan, Balham

Ibra is really funny, but he is also extremely professional. A manager wants that ego in a player. Ibra uses his ego for good: he has individual talent, but he plays for the team. Cristiano Ronaldo is just the same.

What was it like managing Cristiano Ronaldo? The public perception is that he’s difficult to work with, but how did you get the best from him in Madrid?
Alfie Clinton, Rochester

He is a really easy player to train, because as a professional you don’t have to tell him anything. He knows clearly what he must do to be ready for games and for training. As a manager, I was very lucky to have a player like him because he scored 50 goals per season. He wants to be at the top; he wants to be the very best. I think the fact that there is a real competition with [Lionel] Messi helps each of them to be even better. It is very difficult to say who is best, though, because along with Zlatan they can all win football matches on their own. I remember that I liked to joke with Ronaldo. I once told him that he was on the bench for a big game. I said: “Our game is at 4pm, but you will rest tomorrow.” He looked at me in complete shock. Then I told him I was only joking.

When you took over as manager of Real Madrid, how much importance was placed on winning La Decima, the club’s long-awaited 10th European Cup crown?
Florence Roberts, via Facebook

It was the most important project for everyone at the club; the players and the fans were all obsessed with it. For a long time they didn’t win it, but we were able to do it against Atletico at the end of my first season.

How much impact did the sales of Xabi Alonso and Angel Di Maria have on your side in your second season with Real Madrid?
Saacid Almeyda, via Facebook

Yes, at the end there was a little bit of an impact, but I cannot forget that at the start of my second season we won 22 games in a row. After that we had problems – we had injuries to Luka Modric and Sergio Ramos – and we lost some confidence. We still reached the Champions Leagu semi-finals, but lost to Juventus, and we lost the championship to Barcelona by a point. [FFT: Do you believe you deserved more time at Real Madrid?] I knew that if I didn’t win I would be sacked – I knew that when I signed the contract. If you don’t win, then the history of the club means you’re gone. I have no regrets from my time in Madrid – it was wonderful. Every manager wants to work with Real Madrid, because they are the biggest club, for their history and for their fans all around the world.

Were you disappointed that Gareth Bale’s agent went directly to president Florentino Perez when his client wanted to change positions, rather than Bale himself coming to speak with you?
Ted Swain, via Twitter

Yes, I was, because I don’t speak to the agent normally but if the player is not happy then they have to speak to me, the manager. Usually when a player is not happy they come and speak to me. This should be the normal way.

Who was better to work for: Silvio Berlusconi at Milan, Florentino Perez at Madrid or Roman Abramovich at Chelsea?
Mark Sanford, via Facebook

I spent eight years with Berlusconi and I still have a good relationship with him. The fact that these owners sacked me doesn’t mean that our relationship is broken. I still get on well with Florentino, and although I haven’t spoken much with Abramovich since I left Chelsea, I have no problem with him.

Ferguson said: “I hoped Carlo would come to United. It didn’t work out. Another time, maybe.” When did this happen?
Jason Boons, via Twitter

After he retired in 2013 he spoke to me, but I had already given my word to go to Real Madrid. Manchester United were too late. But otherwise I would have been interested in going to Old Trafford.

Who is the one player you wished you had signed, but missed out on?
Mick Francis, Oxford

I tried to sign Steven Gerrard from Liverpool when I was at Milan, but it just wasn’t possible. I was close to taking Roberto Baggio to Parma, but I didn’t because he wanted to play in a different position than the one I wanted him for. Today I can say it was a mistake, but back then I didn’t want to change my system. Now, with more experience, I could say, ‘OK, no problem – we will try to find a position for him.’ In Italy I would also have loved to manage Francesco Totti. It would have been interesting to manage Wayne Rooney, too.

How do you explain Claudio Ranieri’s success with Leicester this season? Does his achievement embarrass other coaches with more money and better players?
Grant Knox, via Facebook

The key is that Claudio has built a good chemistry with his players. The fact that they haven’t had many injuries has allowed him to build a really good shape and organisation. He has some very good players, too, in N’Golo Kante, Riyad Mahrez and Jamie Vardy. I know Claudio very well and he has had a fantastic club career all around the world, in Spain, Italy, England, France... everywhere! He has been fantastic, and he’s a deserving winner of the Premier League title now.

You managed the new Chelsea boss Antonio Conte for two years while in charge at Juventus. How do you think he’ll do at Stamford Bridge next season?
Chris Spencer, London

Conte is a hard worker: really serious, really professional and always focused on his job. Chelsea are getting a top manager who will look at all the little details. Coming to England from Italy, he will find a different world: less pressure, no violence, a great atmosphere, full stadiums – just totally different from Italy at this moment. He can definitely be a success at Chelsea. The club has a lucky relationship with Italian managers. There was Gianluca Vialli, me, and then Roberto Di Matteo, who helped them to win the Champions League.

Would you ever be interested in managing a national team? Italy, maybe? Or England?
Giuliano Maiorana, Cambridge

At this moment I would prefer to have a club, but maybe in the future. England? Why not? I would have no problem doing that.

You played under Fabio Capello during your time at Milan. Why do you think he ultimately failed as England manager?
Jonathan Patel, via Twitter

He did really well with qualification for the 2010 World Cup, winning nine matches out of 10. But with a tournament that is played over a short period of time, you need to arrive with all of your players fully fit, and it is difficult to get that after playing a season in the Premier League and Champions League.

Which is the toughest league in Europe to win?
Keil Hampton, via Facebook

For the quality of play, it is Spain. All the teams can play – even the smaller teams. Just look at what the Spanish sides do in European competition. Both Atletico and Real Madrid were in the Champions League final, Sevilla were in the Europa League final, and Villarreal were in the semi-finals. For tactics, I would say it’s Italy, as there you have to think about a lot of different systems. One week you play against 4-4-2, then 4-3-3, and then 3-5-2, so Italian managers gain a lot of experience and knowledge. Tactically, Italy is a really tough league, because the play is compressed. In England the league is also different: it is a lot more intense, and the games are more spectacular. Look at Leicester winning the title this season – it is really competitive. Lots of teams can create problems for the bigger teams. It is a really balanced league. In France now, there is only one team: PSG.

Jose Mourinho has said that he wouldn’t ever manage in a country where the kit man could win the league. Do you feel the same way?
Peter Common, Hastings

The kit man can win the league? What does that mean? [FFT explains Jose’s dig at managers who take ‘easy’ jobs] Ah, I see! It all depends. It is true I was manager of Paris Saint-Germain for two years. It depends on the project at the club, though, and if they show ambition. The aim at PSG is not only to win the league, of course, but also to be competitive in the Champions League.

You’re known as a calm character. Do you ever lose your temper? What happened when you lost your temper the most?
Sean Perry, Florida

It was when I was at PSG in 2013. We went out of the Coupe de France on penalties against Evian, and we had played really, really badly. I was very angry – so much so that I broke a door. I also kicked a box and it landed on Ibrahimovic’s head. He didn’t react. If I ever lose my temper, I need to leave the dressing room and sometimes go and have a quick cigarette and then I’m fine again, although I am trying to give them up.

Why did you choose Bayern Munich as your next club? How can you improve them after they have won the Bundesliga title by a distance for the past four seasons?
Julian Kingdom, Norfolk

Why? Because this was the right time for me and the right time for the club. They needed a manager, and I needed to find a role. It was good timing. Bayern are one of the best teams in Europe, and it is a new challenge, and the goal for me is to stay competitive. They have reached the semi-finals of the Champions League five times in the past five years but won it just once, so next year we have to be focused. It’s hard to make a team that good even better. Maybe the key is maintaining the same level. The only player there I have managed before is Xabi Alonso, at Madrid, but the others will be a new experience. I am learning German at the moment, but it is difficult.

Is it true you are a massive Star Trek fan and have a part in the new film?
Garry Wickham, Essex

Yes. I have a little cameo in the new film. I play a doctor; I don’t have a speaking part – I am just in the background. I was living in Vancouver and that’s where they were filming it. I have a good friendship with the actress Zoe Saldana: she is married to an Italian guy, and she’s in the film. Zoe jokingly said I could have a part and she asked the director – then one day I was on set. Oh, I am a terrible actor. I loved Star Trek as a child, so it is wonderful to be in the film now.