Stillness and Speed: My Story (10 page)

On the field how did Sosa and Dennis get on?

‘Tactically, I remember he and Ruben Sosa were not suited to each other. Dennis needed a different sort of player. Ruben Sosa was very technical but interested only in the conclusion.
He’d dribble, go forward and shoot at goal. He was an individualist. Bergkamp needed collaborators . . .
Boom! Boom! Boom!
. . . people to play quick passes with. There was not
really a collaboration in passing the ball. It wasn’t a passing team, because Bagnoli wanted to be in front of goal within three or four passes. Fast. And Dennis is much more about passes.
[At Inter] it was very different from the possession game of Ajax which is slow . . .
largo!
. . .
doom . . . dooooom . . . doooom
[
mimes extreme boredom
] . . . Slow
passing . . .
doooom . . . dooooom . . . doom.
I don’t want to criticise Dennis or say that Ruben Sosa was perfect. Not at all. But Dennis was an introvert, in his private life and
on the field the same.

‘Matthaus, Klinsmann and Brehme were very sociable, friendly, outgoing, and Gullit was like that too, even Rijkaard a bit, though Van Basten was not. I played with Gullit at Sampdoria.
Lovely man. I got close to him.’

So, for you, Dennis mainly had a ‘personality problem’?

‘Yes, yes, yes.’

What about the fans and the media?

‘They were cruel and harsh with Dennis, but I blame the club. The club created too many expectations, and the media and fans automatically followed this. The club said: “With Dennis
we will win.” They put all the responsibility on him. That’s why the press attacked him. It was a mistake. The fans are conditioned by the club and the media. They were expecting Dennis
to be like Van Basten. But Van Basten had a team behind him.’

At the beginning of Dennis’s second season you left and went to Sampdoria and later played with another Dutchman from Ajax, Clarence Seedorf.

‘A great guy!’

What was the difference between them?

‘Clarence also was young. And he had trouble with [coach Sven-Goran] Eriksson who made him play on the right wing when he wanted to be in the centre. But he had a different personality to
Dennis. Very different. His character was better adapted to Italy. I was a really good friend of Clarence. I helped him to find a place to stay, and to buy a car. They wanted to trick him when he
was buying a car. Genoa, eh? Bastards! It was not a good deal at all. And Clarence’s mum and sister came to see him training. They’d sit in their car by the side of the field eating
huge tubs of chips . . . and his mum was a huge woman . . . without even getting out of the car! What we are discussing here is the difference between the top,
top
level and the merely
outstanding. That’s the difference. Dennis was a big player, but not an outstanding one. With a different mentality and a different character, he could have been top
top
.’

At Arsenal he was. They loved and admired him. The French guys at Arsenal who played in their national team said Dennis was equal to or better than Zidane.

‘Well, he was faster than Zidane. But Zidane was more open-minded. Dennis was a top player technically, but his character was not. He was too quiet. Too closed. Narrow-minded. Not like
Zidane.’

Closed culturally, or as an individual?

‘I don’t know. But he had everything to be a top,
top
player like Zidane. But he needed to be stronger, more open-minded.’

Yet in London Dennis is seen as this sort of great philosopher king who opens the English culture. He unlocks and opens the door to something much bigger. He changes English football! He
gives it another vision.

‘Yes, OK. In England. But not here. And in the Holland national team, how was he?’

Great.

‘No. Normal. A normal player.’

All through the 1990s Holland are great and strong. Then Dennis retires in 2000, and Holland go straight down.

‘OK, but for me I don’t remember him being decisive. When I think of Holland and I think of the decisive players, I think of Koeman, Seedorf . . . Cruyff years ago. Bergkamp? No. Not
like Zidane. He should have been decisive because he had the same talent as Zidane. Dennis was not as decisive for Holland as he was for Arsenal.’

Well, Holland should have won the World Cup in 1998 and Euro 2000. They were the best team in both.

‘They needed different players, with different talents. Dennis had to be a bigger star, like Zidane was for France. Zidane was the dominant player at Juventus, Real Madrid, France.
Wherever he played he dominated. Always. Always the leader, the obvious leader. But Dennis . . . the difference is that Zidane led more and was more . . . manifested than Dennis. But Dennis
Bergkamp has very great qualities.’

The old Arsenal players said the fans, media, even the TV couldn’t see everything Dennis did. He didn’t draw attention to himself, but for them he was absolutely the technical
leader. You couldn’t even see the perfection of his passes, for example. They weren’t just good but perfect. The curve, the timing, the pace . . . every pass a ‘caviar’, as
Thierry Henry said. Perfect.

‘Yes, yes Dennis was technically brilliant. His quality is not for discussion. Extraordinary! Extraordinary! But his personality was problematic.’

III. My Truth

OK, D
ENNIS
. T
HOSE
are their truths. What are yours?

Dennis: ‘Well, I thought a lot of the comments from Bergomi and even more from Ferri were fantastic. And Bagnoli . . . that was unbelievable because he didn’t say anything
interesting, which I thought was
really
interesting! I mean, how can a guy in his position have nothing to say?’

It could be shyness
.

‘Being shy doesn’t mean you don’t have an opinion. As a coach you have to stand for something. Maybe it showed he wasn’t really important at Inter. Maybe that says it
all. It sounds as if he had no power at all, no philosophy, no input with the style of football, no memory or knowledge of what the plan was with me.’

But Bagnoli was a much-loved, old-fashioned, decent Milanese guy from the 1950s. And everyone loved him. They loved that he’d won the league with little Verona a few years
before.

‘No doubt about it. I remember my first impression of him. I’m quite good at first impressions. And when I met him I thought immediately: “I’ve got respect for
you.” I’m sure he was fantastic with Verona, and he played a certain style. OK, I didn’t see that at Inter, but I understood that about him. And he’s a decent man. He
doesn’t harm anyone. He probably doesn’t make players better, but he doesn’t make a problem with them, either. Like Tommaso [Pellizzari] says, he was just
there
. I think
maybe that half year we had together just wasn’t enough time. He says the same about me. But when you asked him: “Did you have to play pressing?” or “Did Pellegrini tell you
something?” and he says: “No” or “I can’t remember” – well, I think that tells you a lot. This was probably the biggest job he ever had. So he must know
every detail.

‘By the way, I liked what Tommaso said earlier about the ‘religious war’. I didn’t understand it like that then, but I think he’s put his finger on it. The question
was: did Inter want to change? I don’t think so. It’s fantastic the way Bergomi and Ferri talk, but you can tell they didn’t want to change. Now they say it would have been a good
idea, but back then I think they saw change as a threat. If we play with an extra striker or one man more in midfield, does that mean we play with one defender less? Probably. They’re not so
keen on that. And what Ferri said about there being “no project” . . . that really got to the point! Tommaso backed him up on that. Yes, I think that was exactly the problem!

‘I must say I’m quite touched that Bergomi talks about my
grande prestazione
in the UEFA Cup, when I scored a lot of goals. Coming from an experienced Italian player like
him, it means something. And he confirms what I said about Bianchi who really wasn’t a good guy. But when he talks about the difference between England and Italy, it reminded me of
Arsene’s words about how players should serve the game. My feeling was, and sometimes still is, that in Italy they think football
is
Serie A! They think their league and players
are
the game and everyone else has to serve them. Every now and then they do make changes, like with Sacchi. But fundamentally Italian football hasn’t changed in all these years, and
that’s their problem.

‘In a way, Inter looked like Arsenal did. Both teams with a strong, settled “old” base of defenders, and both on the verge of change. But you need strong characters within the
club and help from the media. At Arsenal, the experienced players were willing to try to change. They were curious about what I could bring. [Vice-chairman] David Dein was there, Wenger came and
yes, then I could make the difference with help from quality players. At Inter, they all sat back and looked at me. And taking me out to dinner is not helping me!

‘I found it so interesting about that guy who hates Barcelona football and even now just wants his team to score one goal and defend. I don’t think it was a joke. I think there may
be a lot of people in Italy who think that way. Bagnoli says “tick, tock, tick, tock” because he thinks that sort of passing is boring. I think: “What are you watching?” But
they’ve seen it, and they still don’t like it. If that’s what they feel, well, you can’t do anything. It’s the end of the conversation. It’s their opinion. Not
all Italians think that way. But in general, I think Italian footballers are happy to do what they do. And they’ll always get to finals. They’ll always win trophies because
there’s enough talent there. Football is their culture. Football is their thing. They do it very well.’

Like Italian food? In London and Amsterdam and even Paris, you can go into a supermarket and buy food from all over the world. In an Italian supermarket you can buy food from all over . . .
Italy.

‘They don’t want to change. They like their food. It’s great food. And they like their football. Why should they change? It’s not in their genes to embrace change. You
never hear people saying: “Oh, I love to watch Italian football now! They made such big steps!” It didn’t happen. In England it happened with the Premier League. It happened in
Spain, of course. It happened in Germany. Holland is developing all the time. That’s the Dutch thing: always change. It’s different now than it was with Michels. Cruyff is different.
Van Gaal is different. It’s always evolving, and I think that’s the good thing about it. In football, you have to evolve, you have to create new things. In Italy, I feel, they’d
rather stick to their old stuff, than really make . . . I mean, look at what happened with Sacchi. There’s a four, five-year Sacchi thing. “Oh wow, oh fantastic” . . . and all of
a sudden straight back again. It didn’t last. Bianchi tries it for a couple of games pre-season –
boom!
– straightaway back. You mentioned they tried it a few times but
they’re not comfortable with it, whereas in Holland, we’re not comfortable with conservative football. “This is what we’ve always done, so we’re going to keep doing it
. . .” No. We always want to improve.

‘And the other point that really struck me, was the way they kept saying I was not being social. It’s very, very strange! Ferri said I was not open-minded. Well, I played with quite
a few strikers and they were all different, and I could play with them all, so . . . not open-minded? I’m open-minded enough to come to a different country . . .’

They admitted you had problems with Ruben Sosa.

‘Yes, but even with him it’s not like a hate thing. It’s more like: “Jeez, come on man, look around you! I’m there as well.” He was the only player that I
thought: “I can’t make you better in this way and you’re certainly not making me a better player, and you’re not helping your team.”’

Did you try to talk about it with him?

‘No, because, remember, I was twenty-four. My career had just started. In Holland it was fantastic, but you’re in second or third gear, you’re just cruising in a way. Of course
you’re doing your best, but it’s a playful thing, it goes by itself. Then –
bang!
– they expect you to click immediately at Inter and immediately lead a team with
guys like Bergomi who’ve done everything! “OK, you’re leader now.”’

Did they say that?

‘Then, no. But it shows now in the way they speak. And look at their criticism: “He should have been the leader, but wasn’t the leader because he didn’t invite us for
dinner! He didn’t sing with us!” I mean . . . come on! You’re trying to adjust to the culture, and they expect you to lead straightaway?’

If you’d known how it worked . . . if Bergomi had said: ‘Forget Holland, here it’s serious, and this is what we expect . . .’ Did you never have that kind of
conversation?

‘Actually I did. Once. In my first season. We were on a plane – but I was OK with that at the time – and it was a really good conversation. I think Davide Fontolan was there.
He was a good guy. A strong character, funny as well. And Massimo [Bergomi] and Antonio Paganin were there. And Ferri. And Wim Jonk, too. And some of them were sitting next to me and others were
leaning over from the seats in front and we spoke in English and in Italian, mostly Italian, about what was expected. For the first time, I went: “Wait a minute, I’m part of
this.” They were opening up. They said: “Try to be a little bit different, you know? Run a bit more. Start with that. We don’t expect you to score three goals a game, but put some
working effort in there.” I was still in Ajax mode. I thought my role was to make a difference. Give me the ball, and I’ll do something. But they said – and it was one of the
things I took to England later – “first work one hundred per cent and then get to football”. It was a different way of thinking.

At Ajax I could miss a chance, and it’s no problem because I’ll get another one, and another, and another. The team is so well-organised, the patterns are known. You know where the
wingers are, and the midfielders. Everyone knows what to do. But at Inter, I’d look at the team sheet and not understand a thing! Is that four-four-two? Is it four-five-one? Is it
four-three-three? It was not clear to me. And no one explained it! And if I don’t know that, how can I lead? “Oh, we’re going to follow him.” But what am I doing? I’m
up front with Ruben Sosa, and every game we play against five defenders. Sometimes one of our midfielders comes up, too. Great! Now we’ve got three up front. But where am I running? Where are
my lines? What am I doing with the other striker? If I’ve got no relationship . . . In all the other teams I played in, if I make a certain run, I know how the others will react. But here . .
.’