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It makes me think I always want to win the next game, and the next game is always the one I have yet to win. When I call time on my career, I’ll probably have time to look back on what I achieved. It’s an important achievement. If I win four European competitions with four different clubs, I’ll never forget the first, which was the Cup Winners’ Cup as assistant coach to the late, great Bobby Robson at Barcelona. Every time I sat beside him, I felt very proud.
It does. You can win the first by being in the right place at the right time; winning the second time is tougher, and the third even tougher. That’s why winning means something to me. It’s one thing to achieve success in a fixed amount of time and another to achieve success continuously throughout a long career.
The players are the ones who win and we help them. When the final comes it is their day, when they can make a difference. I always say that the work leading up to the final, over several months, is the basis for those 90 or 120 minutes. I have been lucky so far: my players have turned up in the finals we reached.
It hasn’t changed. I always remember the time I spoke to Sir Alex Ferguson before the Champions League quarter-final at Old Trafford [in 2013], Manchester United v Real Madrid. He invited me to his office, which later became my office. While the players were warming up, I asked him, “What is it like, boss? Does it change over the years?” He said, “Forget about it, nothing changes; it’s the same until the very last day.” And he was right. What changes is the experience during the game. It’s the calmness with which you see and understand things. The way we perceive it, the way we prepare for it, the way we live, does not change.
I prepare them throughout the year. There is no final you can prepare for a day before, two days before or a week before. I believe in sustained work and then there are some details that need to be improved in the days leading up to the final. Perhaps there are conversations with players – trying to prepare them in a slightly different way – but the work starts at the beginning of the season. You reach the final as a team and you must play the final as a team.
There were some expectations, at least internally, in terms of developing a structure for a better future. I have this good trait of always trying to value every single competition we play. I remember when I arrived at Chelsea in 2004, people didn’t give much attention to the League Cup. Then we started playing our best team, trying to win it, and we made it to finals against Liverpool and Arsenal. These days it’s a competition with great value. So I felt a little bit of responsibility when UEFA brought in the Conference League. Mainly because I am a manager with history and Roma is a big club. Little by little, we achieved that ambition of going as far as possible.
It does. But we have to forget that. You need to treat a final as an individual game that brings its own pressure, tension and sense of responsibility. Everything that you feel in the lead-up to the game and during the game is already enough to deal with. It should be enough for us to forget the fact that Roma lost a European final at the Stadio Olimpico.
The passion doesn’t change. That is why I keep saying I cannot believe I am 59. I cannot believe I have a 21 or 22-year career as a head coach. I cannot tell you when I am going to stop because I cannot visualise it.
It makes me think I always want to win the next game, and the next game is always the one I have yet to win. When I call time on my career, I’ll probably have time to look back on what I achieved. It’s an important achievement. If I win four European competitions with four different clubs, I’ll never forget the first, which was the Cup Winners’ Cup as assistant coach to the late, great Bobby Robson at Barcelona. Every time I sat beside him, I felt very proud.
It does. You can win the first by being in the right place at the right time; winning the second time is tougher, and the third even tougher. That’s why winning means something to me. It’s one thing to achieve success in a fixed amount of time and another to achieve success continuously throughout a long career.
The players are the ones who win and we help them. When the final comes it is their day, when they can make a difference. I always say that the work leading up to the final, over several months, is the basis for those 90 or 120 minutes. I have been lucky so far: my players have turned up in the finals we reached.
It hasn’t changed. I always remember the time I spoke to Sir Alex Ferguson before the Champions League quarter-final at Old Trafford [in 2013], Manchester United v Real Madrid. He invited me to his office, which later became my office. While the players were warming up, I asked him, “What is it like, boss? Does it change over the years?” He said, “Forget about it, nothing changes; it’s the same until the very last day.” And he was right. What changes is the experience during the game. It’s the calmness with which you see and understand things. The way we perceive it, the way we prepare for it, the way we live, does not change.
I prepare them throughout the year. There is no final you can prepare for a day before, two days before or a week before. I believe in sustained work and then there are some details that need to be improved in the days leading up to the final. Perhaps there are conversations with players – trying to prepare them in a slightly different way – but the work starts at the beginning of the season. You reach the final as a team and you must play the final as a team.
There were some expectations, at least internally, in terms of developing a structure for a better future. I have this good trait of always trying to value every single competition we play. I remember when I arrived at Chelsea in 2004, people didn’t give much attention to the League Cup. Then we started playing our best team, trying to win it, and we made it to finals against Liverpool and Arsenal. These days it’s a competition with great value. So I felt a little bit of responsibility when UEFA brought in the Conference League. Mainly because I am a manager with history and Roma is a big club. Little by little, we achieved that ambition of going as far as possible.
It does. But we have to forget that. You need to treat a final as an individual game that brings its own pressure, tension and sense of responsibility. Everything that you feel in the lead-up to the game and during the game is already enough to deal with. It should be enough for us to forget the fact that Roma lost a European final at the Stadio Olimpico.
The passion doesn’t change. That is why I keep saying I cannot believe I am 59. I cannot believe I have a 21 or 22-year career as a head coach. I cannot tell you when I am going to stop because I cannot visualise it.
It makes me think I always want to win the next game, and the next game is always the one I have yet to win. When I call time on my career, I’ll probably have time to look back on what I achieved. It’s an important achievement. If I win four European competitions with four different clubs, I’ll never forget the first, which was the Cup Winners’ Cup as assistant coach to the late, great Bobby Robson at Barcelona. Every time I sat beside him, I felt very proud.
It does. You can win the first by being in the right place at the right time; winning the second time is tougher, and the third even tougher. That’s why winning means something to me. It’s one thing to achieve success in a fixed amount of time and another to achieve success continuously throughout a long career.
The players are the ones who win and we help them. When the final comes it is their day, when they can make a difference. I always say that the work leading up to the final, over several months, is the basis for those 90 or 120 minutes. I have been lucky so far: my players have turned up in the finals we reached.
It hasn’t changed. I always remember the time I spoke to Sir Alex Ferguson before the Champions League quarter-final at Old Trafford [in 2013], Manchester United v Real Madrid. He invited me to his office, which later became my office. While the players were warming up, I asked him, “What is it like, boss? Does it change over the years?” He said, “Forget about it, nothing changes; it’s the same until the very last day.” And he was right. What changes is the experience during the game. It’s the calmness with which you see and understand things. The way we perceive it, the way we prepare for it, the way we live, does not change.
I prepare them throughout the year. There is no final you can prepare for a day before, two days before or a week before. I believe in sustained work and then there are some details that need to be improved in the days leading up to the final. Perhaps there are conversations with players – trying to prepare them in a slightly different way – but the work starts at the beginning of the season. You reach the final as a team and you must play the final as a team.
There were some expectations, at least internally, in terms of developing a structure for a better future. I have this good trait of always trying to value every single competition we play. I remember when I arrived at Chelsea in 2004, people didn’t give much attention to the League Cup. Then we started playing our best team, trying to win it, and we made it to finals against Liverpool and Arsenal. These days it’s a competition with great value. So I felt a little bit of responsibility when UEFA brought in the Conference League. Mainly because I am a manager with history and Roma is a big club. Little by little, we achieved that ambition of going as far as possible.
It does. But we have to forget that. You need to treat a final as an individual game that brings its own pressure, tension and sense of responsibility. Everything that you feel in the lead-up to the game and during the game is already enough to deal with. It should be enough for us to forget the fact that Roma lost a European final at the Stadio Olimpico.
The passion doesn’t change. That is why I keep saying I cannot believe I am 59. I cannot believe I have a 21 or 22-year career as a head coach. I cannot tell you when I am going to stop because I cannot visualise it.
It makes me think I always want to win the next game, and the next game is always the one I have yet to win. When I call time on my career, I’ll probably have time to look back on what I achieved. It’s an important achievement. If I win four European competitions with four different clubs, I’ll never forget the first, which was the Cup Winners’ Cup as assistant coach to the late, great Bobby Robson at Barcelona. Every time I sat beside him, I felt very proud.
It does. You can win the first by being in the right place at the right time; winning the second time is tougher, and the third even tougher. That’s why winning means something to me. It’s one thing to achieve success in a fixed amount of time and another to achieve success continuously throughout a long career.
The players are the ones who win and we help them. When the final comes it is their day, when they can make a difference. I always say that the work leading up to the final, over several months, is the basis for those 90 or 120 minutes. I have been lucky so far: my players have turned up in the finals we reached.
It hasn’t changed. I always remember the time I spoke to Sir Alex Ferguson before the Champions League quarter-final at Old Trafford [in 2013], Manchester United v Real Madrid. He invited me to his office, which later became my office. While the players were warming up, I asked him, “What is it like, boss? Does it change over the years?” He said, “Forget about it, nothing changes; it’s the same until the very last day.” And he was right. What changes is the experience during the game. It’s the calmness with which you see and understand things. The way we perceive it, the way we prepare for it, the way we live, does not change.
I prepare them throughout the year. There is no final you can prepare for a day before, two days before or a week before. I believe in sustained work and then there are some details that need to be improved in the days leading up to the final. Perhaps there are conversations with players – trying to prepare them in a slightly different way – but the work starts at the beginning of the season. You reach the final as a team and you must play the final as a team.
There were some expectations, at least internally, in terms of developing a structure for a better future. I have this good trait of always trying to value every single competition we play. I remember when I arrived at Chelsea in 2004, people didn’t give much attention to the League Cup. Then we started playing our best team, trying to win it, and we made it to finals against Liverpool and Arsenal. These days it’s a competition with great value. So I felt a little bit of responsibility when UEFA brought in the Conference League. Mainly because I am a manager with history and Roma is a big club. Little by little, we achieved that ambition of going as far as possible.
It does. But we have to forget that. You need to treat a final as an individual game that brings its own pressure, tension and sense of responsibility. Everything that you feel in the lead-up to the game and during the game is already enough to deal with. It should be enough for us to forget the fact that Roma lost a European final at the Stadio Olimpico.
The passion doesn’t change. That is why I keep saying I cannot believe I am 59. I cannot believe I have a 21 or 22-year career as a head coach. I cannot tell you when I am going to stop because I cannot visualise it.
It makes me think I always want to win the next game, and the next game is always the one I have yet to win. When I call time on my career, I’ll probably have time to look back on what I achieved. It’s an important achievement. If I win four European competitions with four different clubs, I’ll never forget the first, which was the Cup Winners’ Cup as assistant coach to the late, great Bobby Robson at Barcelona. Every time I sat beside him, I felt very proud.
It does. You can win the first by being in the right place at the right time; winning the second time is tougher, and the third even tougher. That’s why winning means something to me. It’s one thing to achieve success in a fixed amount of time and another to achieve success continuously throughout a long career.
The players are the ones who win and we help them. When the final comes it is their day, when they can make a difference. I always say that the work leading up to the final, over several months, is the basis for those 90 or 120 minutes. I have been lucky so far: my players have turned up in the finals we reached.
It hasn’t changed. I always remember the time I spoke to Sir Alex Ferguson before the Champions League quarter-final at Old Trafford [in 2013], Manchester United v Real Madrid. He invited me to his office, which later became my office. While the players were warming up, I asked him, “What is it like, boss? Does it change over the years?” He said, “Forget about it, nothing changes; it’s the same until the very last day.” And he was right. What changes is the experience during the game. It’s the calmness with which you see and understand things. The way we perceive it, the way we prepare for it, the way we live, does not change.
I prepare them throughout the year. There is no final you can prepare for a day before, two days before or a week before. I believe in sustained work and then there are some details that need to be improved in the days leading up to the final. Perhaps there are conversations with players – trying to prepare them in a slightly different way – but the work starts at the beginning of the season. You reach the final as a team and you must play the final as a team.
There were some expectations, at least internally, in terms of developing a structure for a better future. I have this good trait of always trying to value every single competition we play. I remember when I arrived at Chelsea in 2004, people didn’t give much attention to the League Cup. Then we started playing our best team, trying to win it, and we made it to finals against Liverpool and Arsenal. These days it’s a competition with great value. So I felt a little bit of responsibility when UEFA brought in the Conference League. Mainly because I am a manager with history and Roma is a big club. Little by little, we achieved that ambition of going as far as possible.
It does. But we have to forget that. You need to treat a final as an individual game that brings its own pressure, tension and sense of responsibility. Everything that you feel in the lead-up to the game and during the game is already enough to deal with. It should be enough for us to forget the fact that Roma lost a European final at the Stadio Olimpico.
The passion doesn’t change. That is why I keep saying I cannot believe I am 59. I cannot believe I have a 21 or 22-year career as a head coach. I cannot tell you when I am going to stop because I cannot visualise it.
It makes me think I always want to win the next game, and the next game is always the one I have yet to win. When I call time on my career, I’ll probably have time to look back on what I achieved. It’s an important achievement. If I win four European competitions with four different clubs, I’ll never forget the first, which was the Cup Winners’ Cup as assistant coach to the late, great Bobby Robson at Barcelona. Every time I sat beside him, I felt very proud.
It does. You can win the first by being in the right place at the right time; winning the second time is tougher, and the third even tougher. That’s why winning means something to me. It’s one thing to achieve success in a fixed amount of time and another to achieve success continuously throughout a long career.
The players are the ones who win and we help them. When the final comes it is their day, when they can make a difference. I always say that the work leading up to the final, over several months, is the basis for those 90 or 120 minutes. I have been lucky so far: my players have turned up in the finals we reached.
It hasn’t changed. I always remember the time I spoke to Sir Alex Ferguson before the Champions League quarter-final at Old Trafford [in 2013], Manchester United v Real Madrid. He invited me to his office, which later became my office. While the players were warming up, I asked him, “What is it like, boss? Does it change over the years?” He said, “Forget about it, nothing changes; it’s the same until the very last day.” And he was right. What changes is the experience during the game. It’s the calmness with which you see and understand things. The way we perceive it, the way we prepare for it, the way we live, does not change.
I prepare them throughout the year. There is no final you can prepare for a day before, two days before or a week before. I believe in sustained work and then there are some details that need to be improved in the days leading up to the final. Perhaps there are conversations with players – trying to prepare them in a slightly different way – but the work starts at the beginning of the season. You reach the final as a team and you must play the final as a team.
There were some expectations, at least internally, in terms of developing a structure for a better future. I have this good trait of always trying to value every single competition we play. I remember when I arrived at Chelsea in 2004, people didn’t give much attention to the League Cup. Then we started playing our best team, trying to win it, and we made it to finals against Liverpool and Arsenal. These days it’s a competition with great value. So I felt a little bit of responsibility when UEFA brought in the Conference League. Mainly because I am a manager with history and Roma is a big club. Little by little, we achieved that ambition of going as far as possible.
It does. But we have to forget that. You need to treat a final as an individual game that brings its own pressure, tension and sense of responsibility. Everything that you feel in the lead-up to the game and during the game is already enough to deal with. It should be enough for us to forget the fact that Roma lost a European final at the Stadio Olimpico.
The passion doesn’t change. That is why I keep saying I cannot believe I am 59. I cannot believe I have a 21 or 22-year career as a head coach. I cannot tell you when I am going to stop because I cannot visualise it.
