When I came to Barcelona, they told me I could not take a private jet and had to take a commercial flight. ‘At Barcelona we keep our feet on the ground,’ they explained. ‘We are not like Real Madrid. We travel on regular planes.’ It sounded reasonable.
There were other things. ‘Listen,’ Guardiola said. ‘We don’t turn up to training sessions in Ferraris or Porsches.’ I nodded, didn’t go off on one and say things like: ‘What the hell business is it of yours what cars I drive?’ At the same time, though, I was thinking: ‘What kind of message is he sending here?’
I do love cars. They’re my passion, and I could sense something else behind what he was saying. It was like: ‘Don’t think you’re anybody special!’
I’d already got the impression that Barcelona was a little like being back at Ajax, it was like being back at school. None of the lads acted like superstars, which was strange. Messi, Xavi, Iniesta, the whole gang — they were like schoolboys. The best footballers in the world stood there with their heads bowed, and I didn’t understand any of it. It was ridiculous.
Everyone did as they were told. I didn’t fit in, not at all. I thought, just enjoy the opportunity, don’t confirm their prejudices. So I started to adapt and blend in. I became way too nice. It was mental.
I said what I thought people wanted me to say. It was completely messed up. I drove the club’s Audi and stood there and nodded my head. I hardly even yelled at my team-mates any more. I was boring. Zlatan was no longer Zlatan.
Reading that only increases my respect for Guardiola and Barca tbh and shows a lot about Zlatan.