racist with a hypocritical hatred of the English Premier League's money and success

CHELSEA are locked in talks to sign Bayern Munich ace Franck Ribery for £43million.

The two clubs are believed to have agreed the fee and Blues are now thrashing out terms with the 26-year-old French international midfielder.

Ribery is holding out for a bumper £125,000-a-week salary AFTER tax but Chelsea are reluctant to offer more than £90,000 a week.

If the Londoners do close the deal it will be a bitter blow to Premier League rivals Manchester United, who have long wanted the Frenchman as a potential replacement for Cristiano Ronaldo.


Full-back Patrice Evra revealed in The Sun that he was hoping to persuade Ribery to join United.

Chelsea fear that they have missed out on Carlo Ancelotti’s first-choice transfer target this summer, with Franck Ribéry set to join Real Madrid for more than £40 million.

Ancelotti, who is expected to be confirmed as Chelsea’s new manager next week, disclosed in his autobiography this week that he had pinpointed the Bayern Munich forward as an ideal player for the London club as long as a year ago, when he first held discussions with Roman Abramovich about working at Stamford Bridge.

Signing the France international was a priority for Ancelotti, whose fate at his present club, AC Milan, will be decided after the final Serie A game of the season this weekend, away to Fiorentina. The Italian believes that Ribéry could bring some of the flair that Abramovich, the Chelsea owner, craves, but Real are bidding highest for the player.

Bayern were originally demanding £50 million for Ribéry, which would break the world record transfer fee of £45.6 million, which Real paid Juventus for Zinédine Zidane in 2001, but the Spanish club are hopeful of concluding the deal for less.

Chelsea are willing to invest this summer to help Ancelotti to reshape the side, but have balked at spending more than £40 million on a player they could have signed for less than half that figure two years ago. Then, the club were offered the option to sign Ribéry when he left Marseilles for Bayern, but instead they chose to move for Florent Malouda, his France team-mate, who has proved a disappointing acquisition.

With Ribéry destined for Madrid, Chelsea have already begun looking elsewhere in an attempt to inject some pace and width into a squad that has often appeared one-dimensional this season. Ashley Young, the Aston Villa winger, has been mentioned in dispatches, but Chelsea fear he will be overpriced and are reluctant to pay more than £20 million for a 23-year-old who has yet to deliver consistently on his undoubted promise. Villa are well placed to drive a hard bargain, as they did last year when they succeeded in keeping Gareth Barry despite an £18 million bid from Liverpool.

A more likely recruit for Chelsea is Yuri Zhirkov, the Russia international, who has been recommended by Guus Hiddink, the interim manager. The CSKA Moscow player is by no means a direct alternative to Ribéry, but he is valued for his versatility and although a competent left back, Chelsea view him as a left winger who will put pressure on the inconsistent Malouda.

In addition to wide players, Chelsea are eager to sign another striker, with Sergio Agüero, of Atlético Madrid, Karim Benzema, of Lyons, and Carlos Tévez top of their shortlist. Much depends on the future of Didier Drogba, which will not be decided until Ancelotti’s appointment is confirmed.

Real’s eagerness to sign Ribéry should put an end to their pursuit of Cristiano Ronaldo for another season as they are not in a position to spend the best part of £100 million on two wide players, particularly while Arjen Robben remains at the club.

Ronaldo refused to answer any questions on his future after Manchester United’s defeat by Barcelona in the Champions League final on Wednesday, but the indications are that he will remain at Old Trafford for at least another 12 months.

Real could also beat Chelsea to the signature of Xabi Alonso, the Liverpool midfield player, whom Ancelotti has also disclosed he would like to sign as Liverpool look to raise money to fund a renewed bid for Barry.

Carlo Ancelotti could be named Chelsea manager on Monday. Here he tells in his own words about confrontations with Capello and Ferguson, a bad smell left by Eriksson ...and his love of pigs

The hairdryer

I took over [at AC Milan] from Fatih Terim in November of 2001. It wasn't the best of seasons. We were on our last legs and had some key injuries.

After a 2-0 defeat away to Bologna, I lost my rag completely. It doesn't happen to me often, but, hey, I'm human too. We had been absolutely awful, looking demotivated and disinterested. I destroyed the dressing room single-handedly: I punched the table, kicked in a door, smashed a bottle and screamed at the top of my lungs. I insulted everybody, and did so individually and personally. On purpose, I wanted to shake them, to hit them where it hurt.

I don't know if it was my rant that did it, but that game represented a turning point. We clawed our way back into a Champions League spot. I did pay a price, however, because you can't treat every player the same way.

Demetrio Albertini, who had been my team-mate and friend until a few years before, came up to me at the end of the season and said: “I never expected this from you. We played together, I thought our relationship was different. This is the end of everything.” And, with that, he left us that very summer.

The first Champions League triumph

My first full season at Milan, 2002-03, was all about the Christmas Tree. And it happened by chance. The transfer market had delivered two fancy presents: Clarence Seedorf and Rivaldo. And it was my job to find a way to shoehorn them into a line-up that already featured Andrea Pirlo and Rui Costa. Those four guys had to play, the club's philosophy demanded it - entertainment and good football had to come before anything else.

Pirlo really helped me out. He approached me one day and suggested that he could play in a deep position, just in front of the back four. I was extremely sceptical. He was an attacking midfielder, his tendency was to run with the ball. And yet, it worked. He became one of the best in the world in that role. I stuck Seedorf out wide, with Rui Costa and Rivaldo behind the lone striker and - presto! - there was my 4-3-2-1, or Christmas Tree.

We were beautiful that year. We rolled right into the final, at Old Trafford, against Juventus. As always, I prepared my customary pre-match hand-written notes. I'm old-fashioned that way. You don't write a love letter on your computer (unless you're really sad).

We might have closed out the match sooner, instead, it went to penalties. And, to be honest, when it came to time for the spot-kicks, things got tricky. All of a sudden, finding guys willing to take them became very difficult. Inzaghi, for one, disappeared. Fortunately, Andriy Shevchenko converted the winner and that was that.

Three-nil up, then...

My next final was, of course, Istanbul [in 2005]. At half-time we were 3-0 up and some of the guys who had not been selected were already putting on celebratory T-shirts under their clothes. I warned them that Liverpool were going to fight to the bitter end. But what happened next was incredible. Six minutes of total blackout from Milan. Three-hundred and sixty seconds in which the game turned 360 degrees. They scored three times. It was impossible. It was incredible.

I've been asked many times what went through my head as they came back to level the score. The truth is my head was a big, empty void. It all happened so fast, it was all so improbable. We snapped out of it, but the damage was done. Despite creating loads of chances in extra time, it went to penalties.

You know the rest. Jerzy Dudek danced around just as Bruce Grobbelaar had done against my Roma side 21 years earlier. And Liverpool won.

I haven't watched a single second of that match since then. I don't need to. It was hard enough finding a way to move on (and I have moved on: today, it's a defeat, just like the others I've suffered in my career).

Rebuilding the side psychologically took the best part of the 2005-06 season. But we managed it. And we came out stronger the next year, when, in my head, I became a fan of two teams: Milan and Liverpool. Because I desperately wanted us to meet again in the final.

That year, we faced Manchester United in the semi-finals, while Liverpool took on Chelsea. We lost at Old Trafford, 3-2, and I was rather rude to Sir Alex. I did not go to have the customary bottle of wine with him after the match. I was too disappointed. I knew I had to make up for it, so in the return leg, I got him a nice bottle of Tignanello (it's a good wine, but it's only about €60. I leave the €300 wine to the present Inter manager...)

We beat United 3-0 and, to this day, I can say there are two reasons why we won so comprehensively. One was the memory of Istanbul. The other was because the previous night we watched Liverpool knock out Chelsea at our Milanello training ground, which had been decked out like a miniature Kop. We had the works: flags, scarves, banners. We were diehard Reds for the night. That's how badly we wanted to meet them in the final.

We knew we were going to beat Liverpool. That's how confident we were. And, indeed, we did win, 2-1. I don't remember too much about that game, but I do recall the party afterwards and how we drank the bar at our hotel dry. But at least we were even.

Pinning Capello against the wall

In April of 2006, I received an offer from Real Madrid and Florentino Pérez who was standing for re-election. They told me I was “The Best” (they couldn't tell me I was “The Special One” because, of course, somebody else had already copyrighted the term). I accepted - I was ready for a new challenge.

As it happened, Milan didn't release me, in fact, they offered me a new deal. It was at that point that Real turned to a certain Fabio Capello.

I had to laugh because he was desperate to know which one of us had been approached first. It was a point of pride and, to this day, it's a running joke among me and my friends. (But, for the record, they turned to me first).

My last season as a player had been Capello's first at Milan. He was very serious, meticulous and I don't think there is anybody better than him at reading a game. On a human level, well, that's a different story. He didn't have a dialogue with us, he just told us what to do. And, unsurprisingly, he fell out with many players. For example, I remember Ruud Gullit pinning him up against the wall. The rest of us intervened to break it up, even though, secretly, I think many players were cheering for Ruud.

But that's actually one of Capello's strengths. He can have a furious row and then, five minutes later, it's all over. He moves on.

Pigs are beautiful

In 1999, I moved to Juventus to replace Marcello Lippi. They drew up a contract right then and there, writing it out by hand with a blue pen on letterhead. Maybe I should have taken it as a warning. Or maybe it was the graffiti that greeted me the first time I went to Juve's offices and saw a big spray-painted graffiti-welcome: “A pig can't manage.”

I was the pig, of course. Not that I mind, I grew up on a farm, in a part of the world known for sausages, ham and other pork products. Heck, we ate pork 365 days a year. Pigs are beautiful to me, almost sacred. Still, it was obvious some of the fans never wanted me. I had played against them with Roma and Milan, I had challenged them for the title while coaching Parma. I was the enemy and would always be the enemy.

While I never loved Juventus before taking over (and will probably never love them again), when I was in charge, I was the club's No 1 fan. That's what I'm like: I get deeply emotionally involved right away.

We finished second both seasons, and both times the difference between first and second was something screwy. I was done, despite amassing 144 points in two seasons. But I got to manage Zinédine Zidane, the greatest player I've ever worked with, just ahead of Kaká.

Midnight feasts

As a player, I had bad knees. And me liking my food a bit too much didn't help, either. I was a regular for Italy by the age of 22, but missed out on the 1982 World Cup finals because of injury. Talk about regret.

Rehabilitating injuries wasn't much fun, especially back then. Added to that, I kept putting on weight. I was at Roma at the time and they couldn't figure out what was going on. But now that the statute of limitations has passed, I can share the secret of my weight gain.

During pre-season, we were at a training camp way up in the mountains. My room had a little kitchenette and, every night, around midnight, I had arranged for mushrooms to be smuggled to me.

We would then get down to the business of cooking - usually Fettuccine with Porcini mushrooms - and, more importantly, eating. And you can imagine what scoffing a big plate of pasta at 1 o'clock in the morning does to your metabolism. And especially my metabolism.

Eriksson and a bad smell

We won the title at Roma under Nils Liedholm, the first in 40-odd years. And then Sven-Göran Eriksson rolled into town. We liked to take the mickey, partly because we struggled to understand him, partly because we players caught him stinking up the dressing room toilet with a bad bout of diarrhoea before a match at the Stadio Olimpico.

Still, I really liked Eriksson. And his sacking, in April of 1987, was one of the reasons I decided it was time to leave Roma.

I had to wait until the transfer deadline to get my move. Arrigo Sacchi had taken over at Milan and he really wanted me. When the deal was finally done, I got a call from Roma: “We sold you to Milan. Go to such-and-such address and they'll offer you a contract.”

I ended up at this elegant, but somewhat creepy, palazzo full of serviced apartments. The doorman seemed to be expecting me. He gave me a key without saying a word. And then, strangely, he winked at me. I let myself into the flat, where a spread of champagne and pastries had been laid out. I avoided the alcohol but, since it looked as if I was the only one there, I got stuck into the tray of pastries.

Suddenly, this bald man, who clearly had been watching me, emerges from the shadows. It was Adriano Galliani, Milan's chief executive. And, all of a sudden, it was clear why the doorman had winked at me. I was a baby-faced twentysomething having a semi-secret meeting with this bald middle-aged man in a room filled with sweets and booze. I shuddered as I realised that the doorman must have been convinced I was Galliani's toyboy and we were having an incognito gay tryst.

I recovered just in time to hear him say: “We are ambitious. This year we're going to win the title. Next year, the European Cup. And the year after that, we'll be champions of the world.”

I thought he was drunk. I soon realised he was serious. This was Milan, after all.

I'm in charge

I want to be clear on something. I name the team and I decide how we play. That's how it must be, the coach has to be in charge. And that's how it has always been everywhere I've worked. Yes, the chairman has a right to ask questions and the coach has the duty to provide an explanation. But that's it.

It happened a lot with Berlusconi. He fell in love with players. First Van Basten, then Rui Costa, then Kaká, then Ronaldinho. Like most owners, he's a fan and that's fine. But there have to be limits.

Doubts about Kaká

They'd been talking to me about a kid in Brazil. I'd never heard of Ricardo Izecson dos Santos Leite. From the name he sounded more like a televangelist and that wasn't far wrong. He looked like a Jehovah's witness.

I asked around and everybody said the same thing: “He has potential, he plays in the hole, he's not very quick. In Italy he could be in trouble in tight spaces. I won't say who said that as I don't want to embarrass them.

I'd never seen this guy not even on video tape. But at the press conference, it turned into a 360 degree inquisition on Kaká. That's when I had to improvise, saying things like he has two legs, he wears shoes with studs, his profession is footballer. I was really struggling. This is what press conferences are all about. You spout a lot of hot air and everybody nods along.

†Preferisco La Coppa by Carlo Ancelotti and Alessandro Alciato. Published by RCS Extracts and translation by Gabriele Marcotti. All proceeds go to fighting Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, a degenerative disease disproportionately suffered by footballers. Extracts and translation by Gabriele Marcotti