💔🇧🇷 Pff, this testimony from ADRIANO about his life and career is incredibly powerful: “I know what it feels like to be a promise, and also a broken one. I am the biggest waste in football. I like that word: ‘waste,’ because I’m obsessed with wasting my life. I’m okay with it, in a frenzied waste, I enjoy that stigma. I don’t do drugs, like they try to claim. I don’t like crime, even though I could’ve gone down that road. I don’t go to clubs. I always go to the same place in my neighborhood. I drink every other day, yeah. And on the other days too. I drink because it’s not easy being a promise that’s still in debt. They call me ‘The Emperor.’ A guy who left the favela to earn the nickname Emperor in Europe. How do you explain that? I still haven’t figured it out. Maybe I did get a few things right. One of the things that surprised me most when I moved to Europe was how quiet the streets were. People don’t greet each other. Everyone keeps their distance. My first Christmas in Milan was really hard. The end of the year is a very important time for my family. We gather everyone. When I joined Inter, I got hit hard that first winter. Christmas came and I was alone in my apartment. It’s so cold in Milan. That depression that creeps in during those cold months in northern Italy. Everyone dressed in dark clothes. Empty streets. The days are really short. The air is damp. I didn’t feel like doing anything. All of this mixed with homesickness and I felt like crap. Seedorf was an amazing friend—he and his wife made dinner and invited me over. It was all really nice and delicious, but the truth is I just wanted to be in Rio de Janeiro. I didn’t even stay long with them. I apologized, said goodbye quickly, and went back to my apartment. I called home. ‘Hi, mom. Merry Christmas,’ I said. ‘My son! I miss you. Merry Christmas. Everyone’s here, you’re the only one missing,’ she replied. You could hear the laughter in the background. The loud sound of drums my aunts play to remember the days when they were little girls. I could picture the whole scene just from the sounds on the phone. Damn, I started crying right away. I cried so much. ‘It’s okay, mom. Enjoy. Have a nice dinner. Don’t worry, everything’s fine here.’ I was destroyed. I grabbed a bottle of vodka. Drank all that crap alone. Cried the whole night. Passed out on the couch because I drank too much and cried. I tried to do what they wanted. I negotiated with Roberto Mancini. I tried really hard with José Mourinho. I cried on Moratti’s shoulder. But I couldn’t do what they asked of me. I stayed clean for a few weeks, avoided alcohol, trained like a horse, but there was always a relapse. Over and over again. Everyone criticized me. I couldn’t take it anymore. People said a lot of crap because they were all ashamed. ‘Wow, Adriano gave up seven million euros. He gave up everything for this nonsense?’ That’s what I heard the most. But they don’t know why I did it. I did it because I wasn’t okay. I needed my space to do what I wanted to do. All I’m looking for in Vila Cruzeiro is peace. Here I walk barefoot and shirtless, just wearing shorts. I play dominoes, sit in the street, remember my childhood, listen to music, dance with my friends, and sleep on the floor. I just want to be at peace and remember who I am. Here they truly respect me. I see my father in every one of these alleys. Vila Cruzeiro isn’t the best place in the world, it’s my place.”