Libor Kozák

“Tu sei pezzo di merda!“

This is a classic Italian phrase for beginners. It is used when you want to tell someone he is a piece of shit. I used the phrase to start a conversation with the sports director of Lazio Rome. And I continued.

“Coglione! Testa di cazzo!“

I'm too ashamed to translate this. You’d be better off not looking it up. I pulled all the insults from memory, one by one, surprised by how many that I knew and how easily I could use them, especially when I am the type of person who tries to get along well with everyone and behave politely; especially because Igli Tare was standing in front of me, a huge guy, an Albanian and a former striker with a great career.

It was about my transfer from Lazio. In the spring of 2013, I was 24 and in my fifth season at the club I became the top scorer in the European League. Many European clubs were interested in me. I could choose from several offers, but from the first moment, I wanted to go to England. Aston Villa had shown serious interest in me.

The President of Lazio is a well-known money-grubber and he is not afraid to take advantage of players who are willing to leave. The same thing happened to me. He cut me off, I suffered all summer and I spent the whole offseason training individually with four other guys while waiting for permission to transfer. They wanted more and more money for me, at one point even €10 million, which of course, back then, no one would pay. Negotiations were taking much longer than expected and I became nervous. For two months, Tare, the sports director, reassured me that everything would be resolved quickly. When the transfer window was almost over, Tare promised that this time he would intercede for me with the Lazio president to take the offer and let me go. 

They had a meeting with the president and managers of Aston Villa and no deal was made. My agent was present at the meeting and told me the whole story. Tare was the reason why the deal was off; he wanted more money and compelled the president to refuse the conditions. Based on that, my agent advised me that if I still wanted to leave, I should confront Tare and let him know what I thought of his treachery. 

“You have nothing to lose,” my agent said. “Your contract is good for three more years and you are not part of the team anyway. Either way, they will send you away.“

So I pushed myself beyond my comfort zone and went to kick my boss’s ass. I ran into him in a garage outside of our training center. I took a deep breath and started swearing. I even told Tare that if I ever met him on a street and he needed help, I would tell him to go fuck himself. I have no idea where all of this came from and I still regret it until this day. Nevertheless, there was no time for a guilty conscience. Tare grabbed me by the throat and started yelling. “Who the hell do you think you are?” A piece of shit like me wouldn't dare to yell at him like that. A few junior players were passing by, pretending they weren't there.

Five minutes later, it was over. I went home and genuinely started to cry. I called my parents and told them that I screwed up and thanks to my agent’s great advice, I had a fight with the club manager. The next morning, my phone rang, and I saw Tare’s number. I had no intention of picking it up and hearing that my contract was over and that he would make sure that no club would ever take me in.

“Hello?” I said.
“Pack your stuff, you are leaving. The deal is done.” he said.

Was he joking?

I will never understand how these things work and what caused the sudden change. I would never confront anyone in such a way again because I think that arguing and swearing only make things worse. Obviously, sometimes it is the only possible solution. Especially in Italy. The highlight of this story was a newspaper article where Tare wished me all the best with my new club and that in his eyes, I was a real professional.

It was unbelievable.

There were two days left until the transfer window closed and I was heading to Birmingham to join the most prestigious football league in the world. It took me a few seconds to realize that this was happening. Italian Serie A made me a great striker for international football, but now I finally felt complete. Tackles, a physical game, bruises, that was me. Here, I could finally unleash all my football skills. I wanted to play here!

For five months, I was living my football dream. Five months until Jan. 2, 2014 when I tried to get up on my feet during a team training after my teammate’s slide tackle sent me to the ground.