Sinisa Mihajlovic, her memories in the book “The game of life”. Here is the preface

My name is Sinisa and I was born twice. The first on February 20, 1969 in Vukovar, former Yugoslavia, now Croatia. I have to thank my mother Viktorija, Croatian, and my father Bogdan, Serbian, for bringing me into the world. It was a Thursday when it happened, I didn’t cry. They told me I already had a tough air, they had to spank me three times to make me scream. Fifty years later, on October 29, 2019, I was born a second time, at the Sant’Orsola Hospital in Bologna. And this time I have to thank an American boy, unknown, who gave me his bone marrow and the medical team who took care of the transplant to cure leukemia. That day was a Tuesday, I received only caresses from everyone, yet I cried for a long time.

I was born twice, but I’ve already lived many lives. When I turned fifty, on February 20, 2019, I looked back: “Sinisa, how much of a world have you seen…”. I joked about it, bulging my muscles: “I feel twenty years old, but sometimes I think I’m one hundred and fifty for all the experiences I’ve had”. My adolescence in Serbia, my parents’ hard work, the days playing football alone, the beginning of my career, Red Star, dangerous friendships in Belgrade at the end of the 1980s, sporting triumphs. And then Italy, the consecration in the most beautiful and important league in the world, the teams I’ve played for, the ones I’ve coached and the many cities I’ve lived in.

I have met presidents who have marked the world of industry, finance, politics, fashion, cinema, communication and publishing. I have been coached by masters of tactics and life and have gone through thirty years of football with teammates and adventures. Great champions, young talents, unkept promises and… decent blowjobs.

I’ve played, won and lost legendary games that have gone down in history and some full of shadows. I know the pride of playing for and coaching the national team. Cups and league titles, divine free-kicks and goals under the cross, runs and tackles, applause and boos, climbs, falls and restarts. Quarrels, accusations, fierce controversies. Fame and guns. Hunger and wealth. I am the father of six children, five from my marriage to Arianna, the love of my life: my family is the most beautiful victory. And in the midst of all the devastating experience of the wars in the Balkans. Bloody, fratricidal, inhuman. Yugoslavia disintegrated, the dead, the wounds never healed.

While, at the age of fifty, all this passed before my eyes, only a few months later the most important game, that of life, would begin. Sudden pain, tests, diagnosis: acute myeloid leukemia. The announcement, the hospitalization, the treatments, the courage that clashes with fear. The tears, the hope. The transplant, the return to the bench, the rediscovery of the little things. In my destiny, however, it says that I have to try everything, even being positive for Covid, the virus that has locked the world at home. I have always been a difficult, divisive man who exalted himself in confrontation. Often muscular. I have a strong character which for many becomes synonymous with temper. Maybe because I’ve never hidden myself, even taking awkward or inconvenient positions. I am Serbian from head to toe, with the strengths and weaknesses of my proud people.

I have heard a thousand judgments about me, often superficial. I wasn’t the warmonger and macho that many enjoyed painting years ago without ever having known me, I’m not the hero that many now like to tell after my fight against the disease. I certainly never acted. I have often lived hard-nosed. But even someone with attributes can be moved and have moments of fragility. I’m not infallible, never thought I was: I was wrong and I will be wrong again, but always as a man. And I always have my mistakes. Paid, no discounts. Anyone who knows me knows that I can be sweet and affectionate, but it’s so much better if they don’t piss me off.

For a long time, I preferred a grin to a smile. And to those who stared at me for more than five seconds I said: “What the fuck are you looking at?”. Now I’ve learned to control myself a little more… You get older, you change and, I hope, you get better. A great writer, Leonardo Sciascia, in the “Day of the owl” divided humanity into five categories: men, half men, hominicans, pigliainculo and quaquaraquà. He was right. And in the world of football it’s a bit the same thing.

I don’t know what the future holds for me yet, but I know that I would relive and do it all over again, in the same way. Even the mistakes, even the pains. Because there are no perfect lives. And they would be boring too. I lived every match as if it were life. And life like a game. If I am who I am today, it is thanks to everything that has happened to me. Make yourself comfortable, because I’m about to tell you about it…