Ruud Gullit: "Ancelotti is your favorite uncle, the one who makes everyone happy and applaud when he comes to Christmas dinner. Sacking him is unfair and a mistake."

Ruud Gullit (Amsterdam, 1962) is a happy-go-lucky man with the eternal charisma of someone who, despite having cut his dreadlocks 25 years ago, still lives on in the collective memory with one of the best hairdos in history. But behind the laughter lies a thoughtful and committed man. He was always a different kind of star, even when he was causing nightmares at Real Madrid with AC Milan , who won two European Cups, or when he, with his friend Van Basten , guided the Netherlands to its only major title, Euro 88.

The 1987 Ballon d'Or winner talks to EL MUNDO in Madrid, where he traveled for the Laureus Awards , during a peaceful period: "I have a great life. I travel, I'm still involved in football as a television expert, and I don't suffer. Being a coach was a bad idea. It's a horrible job. Humiliation is always, always waiting for you. You can put it off for a while, but sooner or later it comes." And he bursts out laughing for the first time.

For half of Spain you will always be a villain and for the other, a hero.

Yes, I know, and I notice it especially when I come to Madrid. People don't like me very much, and some tell me so [laughs]. In Barcelona, ​​however, they ask me for many more photos. The truth is, that rivalry between Milan and Real Madrid was very nice. They, with La Quinta del Buitre, were a great team, but they had the bad luck that we were better. In any other era, I think they would have won the European Cup.

What do you remember most about those duels?

The special feeling of leaving the Bernabéu as a winner. Real Madrid was and is the biggest club in the world, and playing well in this stadium is a fantastic feeling. Then there's another thing I always remember from those years that shows you how complex football is. The season before we eliminated Real Madrid and won the European Cup, Espanyol eliminated us from the UEFA Cup. That's football.

The legacy of that Madrid of the Quinta has been marked by its failure to win the European Cup.

And it's not fair because if winning the Champions League is difficult now, it was much more so back then. Only the league champions played, so you didn't play every year. In fact, the name Champions League no longer makes much sense when you're in the fourth. Winning it back then was a two-year mission: you had to win the league the first time and the European Cup the second. It was very complicated, and besides, in the early rounds you could face any top team in a two-legged tie, with no playoff berths or chances to fix a mistake or anything. The second time around, we eliminated Real Madrid in the second round, in November. They were a great team.

There were Butragueño, Míchel, Hugo Sánchez… However, when you collected the Ballon d'Or in 1987, you said that Gordillo deserved it.

Yes, and I meant it. I loved Gordillo because he had a personality similar to mine. He enjoyed what he did, which is something you'd be surprised to know how many footballers don't. I always enjoyed playing, and Gordillo was the same, even though he worked very hard for the team afterward. I liked his way of understanding the game and life; I saw myself reflected in him.

You had a great time and you showed it.

Having fun is the most important thing in life. Besides, if you don't like what you do, it's very difficult to be successful. I don't believe in those players who just play football to be famous and millionaires. No, that's bullshit. You play football because you love it. Having fun was always my priority. As soon as I signed for Milan, they took me to a two-week training camp in an isolated facility, and three days later, I wanted to go back to Holland; I couldn't stand it. I told Sacchi: "You can't put me in a cage. I need to go to the movies, I need to go out. Otherwise, I can't concentrate." Luckily, they adapted a little to me, gave me more freedom, and everything worked out well. I needed to have fun, and no one there seemed to be having fun.

Italian football in the 1980s was not a party.

No, no [laughs]. During meals, I was happy, chatting, laughing, joking, and I noticed that most of the players looked at me suspiciously: "This guy isn't serious." The thing is, they saw me on the field and understood that I was as professional as any of them and worked hard, but I simply couldn't live without laughter.

You've always had many interests beyond football. You dedicated the Ballon d'Or to Nelson Mandela.

Yes, he was my idol, my role model, my cause. In the Netherlands, there was a lot of remorse regarding our historical role in what was happening in South Africa, and I participated in organizing many demonstrations against apartheid and in support of the ANC [Mandela's party]. I was also very involved in reggae music, the essence of which is to protest racism, fascism, violence, suffering… Nelson Mandela and Steve Biko were constant presences in our songs and our culture. We had a battle to fight, and I became very involved in it. I met with many exiled members of the ANC, and it was a clear decision to dedicate the Mandela Prize to him, even though he was still in prison.

Then you would meet him.

Yes, we met many times. I'm very proud to have met someone with such charisma. I've never met another person with such an aura, and I've met so many people... But Mandela was special and represents the best of humanity. When he left prison, he was always humble; he tried to involve the enemy in the process of rebuilding a country and a society. He never sought revenge, but rather to create together, even though he'd been kept in a cell for 26 years. How could someone like that not be a huge inspiration? One of the last times we saw each other, he invited me to South Africa and gave me a medal.

What kind?

Of a commander. I'm Commander of the South African Colonies. That's a great title! [laughs]

Why is it so difficult to see a soccer star involved in political and social issues today?

Because most of the time it backfires on you. Fans and journalists are always looking for stories and headlines, and if you get involved, they're waiting for you. The best example of this is Marcus Rashford. He did something wonderful by leading the fight against child poverty and calling out government inaction. What happened? When his performances at United dipped, a lot of people were waiting to say it was because he was too preoccupied with other things. It's not true, it has nothing to do with it; all footballers go through phases, but they don't care: they'll use your position against you. So, even though it hurts me, right now I would advise any footballer to stay out of it. As a footballer, it's dangerous to get involved in political and human rights projects because it will backfire on you. It's horrible, but it is what it is. So, rule number one: don't get involved in politics.

You didn't fulfill it.

No, but I did do it less and less. In the end, it's easier to live in your bubble. The first thing you have to learn when you succeed in football is to say "no," because everyone wants something from you, and if you don't give it to them, they'll say you're an asshole. Well, sometimes it's better to be an asshole than to let yourself be used just to be liked. What worries me is that I still see many of the same problems today that I saw then. Racism, sexism, poverty, wars... And in a way, it's getting worse because, largely due to social media, people are becoming less receptive to others, angrier, more right-wing, even far-right... We had a wonderful Europe, and it's falling apart.

You are on a committee created in the Netherlands to promote diversity in management positions.

Yes. For example, the Dutch Football Association, despite the number of Black stars the national team has had, was exclusively white and male. In a very short time, we've managed to have a female vice president [Marianne Van Leeuwen], Nigel de Jong as technical director, and Clarence Seedorf on the board. Change shouldn't come from the bottom up; it must come from the top, because it's natural for young people to look to people who look like them for role models. If there are only white men in management positions, it's very difficult for a Black girl to believe she can make it. There are some people who don't want to accept that today's society is diverse, whether they like it or not. That's not an opinion, it's a fact. And if you block other races' path to success, you're creating frustration, frustration creates unhappiness, and unhappiness creates anger. And nothing is more dangerous for a society than having a bunch of angry people. If you want a good society, equal opportunities are imperative. I'm fired up, let's talk about football [laughs].

Okay. I'd say you're the only footballer in history who's been a star as a defender, a midfielder, and a forward.

It's true. I started as a sweeper and made my first-team debut with Haarlem at 16, but in my second season, a new coach, Hans Van Doorneveld, arrived and said he wanted to convert me into a striker. It was easy for me to learn because I had the advantage of knowing how a defender thinks and I could anticipate them. Meanwhile, in the youth teams, they put me in the middle, on the right wing, and I learned other things. The problem with all this is that the coaches didn't use my versatility to my advantage, but to theirs. Instead of putting me in the position where I performed best, they put me in the one that best suited them, and that irritated me because it never allowed me to specialize in one thing and fully refine it. In the end, it was a disadvantage to be able to do so many things. For example, at Milan, I started as a winger; when Marco [Van Basten] got injured, they put me at number nine, then back to the middle... I had to readapt every year, and it was frustrating at times.

At Feyenoord you played alongside Johan Cruyff in what was his last active season (83-84).

And we won the League and the Cup. He was a very important mentor for me, with that privileged mind that allowed him to be way ahead in every situation. He told me something I didn't know at the time: "Rudi, you're different, you're going to have a great career and you have to be prepared. When you go to a new club, the fans won't like you. They'll shout at you, they'll insult you, the other players will give you a bad reception, thinking you're not that good. So, the first thing you have to do is make the rest better. That will solve all your problems." I was 20 years old, still chasing attention, wanting to stand out, and this man told me to think about people I didn't even know [laughs]. Of course, he was right. Because if you're really good at football, you can read and direct your teammates to their best versions, and that ends up protecting you. If you do your thing, you can only do well the things you're good at, but if you look at football as a whole, the strengths of the 11 players end up being yours. Johan taught me that; it's the great truth of football and one of the most important things I learned in my career.

Your great friend was Frank Rijkaard.

In football and in life. We grew up together in Amsterdam; he's like a brother to me. Frank was always the last piece needed in every puzzle. He made every team better, but he didn't like the attention and fame. He hated them, and still does, in fact. He hated press conferences, journalists, publicity stunts... He just wanted to play and be left alone. He was the backbone of the team, both with Milan and Holland, the one who held everything else together. He was a much better footballer than people realized because he had no interest in applause and awards. Strong, athletic, extremely intelligent... And an incredible person. A very different leader from the usual ones. Very calm, very quiet, always right on target. Marco [Van Basten] and I were already there, but we didn't win the European Cup until Frank arrived, and that's no coincidence.

You two were great, but Van Basten…

He was exceptional. He's the best player I've ever played with and the second-best I've ever played against, only because I played against Maradona. And Marco, healthy, wasn't far away. We always connected very well; I knew where he was going to be without looking at him, so I focused on giving him the ball; he was my first and second option in every play. I was also a striker, but I knew that if I took the ball myself, it could be a goal; if I passed it to him, it was a sure goal. So, since I wanted to win, I gave it to him all the time [laughs].

You both scored in the Euro 88 final [2-0 against the USSR].

And we each scored two in the Champions League final the following year [4-0 against Steaua]. We had an incredible connection and I loved that guy, but we argued because all he thought about was scoring goals, and the few times he didn't pass the ball, he'd come at me really pissed off: "What you're doing hurts me! You don't even look at me!" And I'd tell him to fuck off and burst out laughing. This made him even angrier because he took everything more seriously, but it was really funny to see him so hurt because I hadn't passed him a ball. In the end, my laughter always caught on, and he'd say, "You're an idiot, go away!" [laughs].

Arrigo Sacchi, your coach for both titles, doesn't seem like the most humorous guy in the world when it comes to working.

A good guy, but very serious. He was my first coach in Italy and the one who convinced me to go. At first, it was tough because I needed to have fun, and he had us working incredibly hard on defensive systems for hours and hours. Rehearsing pressing and getting out again and again. It seemed like a pain, but once we understood what he was doing and that he was revolutionizing the game, we were a machine. He was very influential for me and for world football.

Fabio Capello replaced him and you didn't fit in as well with him.

No, we had problems and once we almost came to blows, so we had to be separated, but I still recognize that he was a great coach. I started getting injuries, and the transfer market started to open up to more foreigners, so there was more rotation, and I didn't like it. I wasn't happy and went to Sampdoria, but then Marco got injured and Capello brought me back for Milan, so even with our differences, we respected each other. Now we're very good friends, and when we see each other, I don't hold too many things against him [laughs].

Your roommate was Carlo Ancelotti.

Carlo is your favorite uncle, the one who, when he arrives for Christmas dinner, everyone jumps up and down: "Uncle Carletto is coming!" And everyone applauds. He's a wonderful person, but also extremely intelligent, which he sometimes forgets. We laughed a lot in the bedroom, talked about everything for hours, but at bedtime the night before the game, he always got nervous and I slept like a baby. And in the morning I'd find him looking at me: "How did you sleep all night? I didn't sleep a wink. You don't care about anything." I always knew he would be a coach; it was his plan for the last few years. He's a great person to have in your life, and if you're a star, you'll kill for him because he understands you, he's fair, empathetic, and he's been surrounded by great footballers his whole life. He was one himself, so he knows how to deal with our quirks. And tactically, he's brilliant; no one earns as much as he does just for being a good uncle.

He seems to be out of Madrid after this dull season.

It's unfair and a mistake, but that's their problem. There's Brazil waiting for him, which isn't a bad plan B, is it? Anyway, what I would say to Carlo now is: "You've already won everything, absolutely everything. With how much you love life, eating, good wine... Take a good vacation and enjoy it. They'll miss you." Sometimes we get so caught up in the idea that life begins and ends with football, and that's not true, which is why I'm glad I didn't insist on being a coach. We think there's nothing more to it, and then people give up and are happy. Look at Xavi. When he arrived at Barça, he was young and happy; two years later, he looked like a sad, abandoned puppy. Two years had passed, and he'd aged 10 years. However, I saw him a month ago, and he was radiant. Taller, more handsome, everything. That's life! [laughs]

You sure looked good with that hair.

And the mustache. A cross between a reggae singer and a porn star. I have to say in my defense that mustaches were in fashion back then. It saved it, didn't it?

I think so.

I loved music, I had the soul of a rock star, and that image was important so people still remember me. The thing is, in 2000, I got fed up. I shaved my head because I was fed up with people always recognizing me everywhere; I wanted to be able to have a beer without everyone staring. It was the best decision of my life. Now I'm delighted: handsome and incognito.

And he says goodbye, laughing his head off one last time.