I joined AC Milan in 2010 and our biggest league match was approaching. The Milan derby against Inter, whose most passionate fans — the Ultras — were going to hate me.
On top of that, I had issues with Oguchi Onyewu, a guy in my team. He was an American the size of a house, and I told a mate in the squad: ‘Something serious is gonna happen. I just feel it.’
Onyewu resembled a heavyweight boxer. He was nearly 6ft 5in and weighed over 15 stone, but he couldn’t handle me. He accused me of trash talking, but that wasn’t true.People trash talk me. I’ve heard so much s**t over the years: ‘F****** gypsy’, stuff about my mum — all that stuff. I retaliate with my body, not with words.
I told Onyewu I did not trash talk, but he just kept on. He shushed me with his finger. Then he did it again. I saw red.I didn’t say anything, not a word. That b****** was going to find out how I trash-talk!
The next time he got the ball in training, I rushed towards him and jumped up with my feet and studs out in front — the worst type of tackle. But he saw me and leapt out of the way. As we both crashed to the ground, my first thought was: ‘S**t! I’ve missed!’ As I got up and walked away I felt a blow to my shoulder. Not a good idea, Oguchi Onyewu.
I headbutted him, and we flew at each other. We wanted to tear each other limb from limb. It was brutal. We were rolling around, punching and kneeing each other. We were crazy and furious — it was like life and death.
Afterwards, the weirdest thing happened. Onyewu started praying to God with tears in his eyes, making the sign of the cross. This felt like a provocation, and I got more furious.
I was stopped by my team-mates, and I suppose that was a good thing. It could have turned out nasty.
All the time, I was thinking: ‘S***, my chest hurts,’ so we had it checked out. I’d broken a rib in the fight.
Gooch put them paws on Zlatan and won.
already
its on.
Come on
