Entry dated sometime in early June 2015:

If you are reading this… then I am dead.

For what other reason should you have to read a man’s intimate journals? The journal is a portal into the soul and as long as the soul is still among the living then journal and soul are entwined and to steal a man’s journal is to steal his soul.

(Editor’s Note: Eh… let’s publish it anyway)

Today was a good day. Not only did I treat myself to two glasses of fine wine with my expensive steak lunch, but I also am one day closer to playing in the Champions League Final. And no game is more spectacular for a player than the Champions League final. Some say a World Cup final is the pinnacle, but I have scored in a World Cup final penalty shoot-out before and it was not as you would think. The man who scored that penalty was Andrea Pirlo, but Andrea Pirlo was not the man who scored that penalty. No, that man was Italy, and for my nation I would move mountains, but I have already moved a mountain for my nation. Now I wish to move one for my club.

I will admit that I have won two Champions League finals in the past. However those were with AC Milan, and that is the club that so shamefully stabbed me in the back with their devastating accusation that I was no longer capable of performing at such a level. Me! Performance issues! Well, they have learned that one can never outsmart a philosopher. Someday my skin shall wither and my bones become dust, but Andrea Pirlo will never die.

Arturo Vidal once asked me what it takes to control a midfield. I told him that every man is different, but that for myself it takes a complete emptiness of consciousness. I must clear my mind to the state of mere being, I must rid myself of ego and only then can I allow my thoughts back in, for only then will they be clear and focussed.

Today I trained. Today Juventus trained. We warmed up, as athletes must, and then we practiced. I can make a pass land where I will it to but only because I have suffered the hours required to learn such a skill. If a child were born with the feet of a dancer and the heart of a warrior then no more likely is that child to become Pele than he is to become an accountant. Accountancy is honourable work, but the accountant lives in a cerebral world, while the athlete is born into a world of expression and creativity. A great pass is like a great painting. Except a great painting can be witnessed for eternity while a great pass must be seen in person. It is beautiful and it is transient, like life itself.

All life is beautiful. All the world is happiness. I am happy when I can drink wine and when I can play football, though I do not dare combine the two because too much happiness and the cup will overflow. Perhaps literally. I am happy when I am with a woman too, but some things need not be explained.

The life of a footballer is like that of an artist. We perform once a week but a footballer, like an artist, must hone his craft every day. One must train if one is to play, and one must think if one is to live. Otherwise you are an abandoned house. Otherwise you are an empty shell.

At training I took free kicks until I could score them with my eyes closed. It must be a second nature to me, as simple as breathing, or I cannot be tasked with one in a Champions League final. I know what it takes in such an occasion, I have won two before. Paul Pogba asked for a turn at taking free kicks too, but I told him that with a set piece comes an immense responsibility – not only to one’s self but to one’s team and to the fans. Every single being in a black and white jersey will be counting on you should you step up to take such a kick, and you cannot disappoint them or you may regret it for the rest of your life. It could break you in two like a stick of bread should you not be strong enough. He said he would stand by the defensive wall instead.

Later we prepared for penalties. Myself, I know how to take a penalty. I have scored in a World Cup final penalty shoot-out, and there is no greater stage. Gigi Buffon, too, is a master at the penalty. When you can score past him, you can score past anyone. Barcelona will be a difficult task but I believe it is in the will of God that we shall triumph, and if we do not then I shall renounce all religion. A world without fairness and poetry is one that I cannot believe in. Lionel Messi does not frighten me, I have won a World Cup and he has not.

Giorgio Chiellini said that he was not worried about facing Luis Suarez again, though I have seen him biting his own arm in preparation. Enough that he will now miss the match, which is a shame. He is a fine man and a true Italian. I trust him with my life and more importantly I trust him with the defence of my football team. I do not trust Carlos Tevez, but I tolerate him. Carlos is like a raging bull and he scores goals. More cannot be asked of him.

Afterwards, as I applied my favourite cologne in the changing rooms, I was asked by several players about an article in La Gazetta dello Sport regarding my future. I must admit that the rumours of me going to play in New York have a foundation of truth. Yes, I am indeed considering it. For what greater feat can a man achieve than to bring culture to the uncultured, to bring football to the un-footballed? America is a country of naivety and it takes the enlightened to bring knowledge where there was none. In that noble task, I would like to join another great missionary, Frank Lampard, in spreading The Beautiful Game and perhaps even sharing The Good Book too. But first there is work to do.

For dinner I believe I shall have pasta and wine, for that is the staple diet of a champion. After dinner I shall play FIFA 15 for hours as I visualise how we shall win on the weekend. And then, perhaps, I shall retire to my bed and read some fine literature before I sleep, dreaming golden dreams of victories yet to come. Tonight I will spend alone in abstinence but Saturday night I shall party.