#looove!!!

Enrico Valentini, you don’t just play for Nürnberg professionally, you were born in the city and have been a Clubfan since childhood. Do you listen to the fans’ songs and chants during a game? Of course, sometimes I sing along myself. When we walk out onto the pitch for example. Or when they sing „Die Legende lebt“.

Did you ever get any funny looks from opposing players for that? No, I don’t sing out loud, just to myself. Sometimes only in my head. It’s just that I do know the songs, I’ve stood there in the block myself often enough. And some songs, you’re just simply defenseless against them.

You lived so close to the stadium as a child, you should know the songs by heart. I do. On Saturdays we could follow the games merely by the noise. I just crossed the street, climbed through a hole in the fence and there I was on one of the training grounds.

The house you grew up in was also your parents’ restaurant. Did you have to help out there a lot as a child? Much less so than my older siblings, compared to them I was lazy and ducked out a lot. I was the youngest, the little prince. But the restaurant still had a big influence on my childhood. We ate at completely different times than other families, dinner was never before 9 pm. My father once told me that when I was a baby he often got me out of bed at 1 am when he returned from work. He laid me down on his chest, just to have some time with me at all.

When did your parents move from Italy to Germany? In 1980. My father started off „classically“ as a waiter in a trattoria and in 1989, when I was born, he opened his first own restaurant. These days he owns a vinotheque (?).

Was it your father, as well, that got you into football? Yes. He was and still is a fanatic Juve fan and, ever since moving here, a Clubberer as well. He introduced me to many club legends: Dieter Eckstein, Sergio Zarate, Alain Sutter, Stefan Reuter, Samy Sané. Even though some of them played before I was born, he showed me videos of them. Samy Sané for example, he was quicker than the ball. He was quicker even than his son Leroy Sané is today. Unbelievable.

Do you have an all-time-favourite Nürnberg player? Out of those I’ve watched myself in the stadium it’s Jacek Krzynowek. His left hammer was amazing. What a great guy. Also I was lucky enough as a youth player to sometimes get to train with the first team. It was the time of Hans Meyer. So there I was on the pitch next to Zvjezdan Misimovic, an awesome number 10. Because he wasn’t very fast he solved everything with his great technique. He played to his strenghts perfectly. No frills, no tricks, always straightforward.

So as a teenager did you freeze in awe of such gifted footballers like Misimovic? In the beginning yes, completely. I was a bit intimidated. Up until then I’d always mercilessly put all the professional players up on pedestals. Most of all Alessandro Del Piero. To me he seemed beyond reach. Not even human, an alien. And it was similar with the big names in Nürnberg. But then suddenly I sat next to them and I realised: They’re just normal people.

Why were you so fascinated by Del Piero? His style of play, he was unique. He entered the box from the left side and then fired the ball into the top right-hand corner. In Italy they call it „Tiro all Del Piero“. In A-Jugend [aged 19 and under] I had a phase where I scored exclusively like that. When Del Piero scored against Germany in the world cup semifinal in 2006 I was so happy for him! As if he was a family member. I’m getting goose bumps just talking about it.

You were so happy, even though he inflicted a really painful defeat upon the German team? Don’t get me wrong: I’m extremely grateful to Germany for everything I get to experience. But I feel Italian. I still have lots of family there, I try to go there at least once a year. I only started speaking German in kindergarten.

About the same time, in 1994, as a five-year-old you joined the Club and up until 2010 went through all of its youth teams. Was there one coach with a special influence on your career? Every coach was important at his time. Concerning my personality I benefitted from René Müller the most, who trained me in the amateur team. He taught me a lot especially concerning life after football.

Like what? Broadening my horizon. We talked about faith, about the importance of money, the importance of football. He helped me understand that my personal happiness doesn’t depend on my career alone. Before that, it was like this - if I played well I was happy. If I played badly I was unhappy. It wasn’t healthy.

As a youth player were you automatically a Nürnberg fan right from the beginning? Yes. I always completely identified with the club and, consequently, suffered along with the players even as a child.

When did you suffer the most? The worst was the final home game in the 1999 season. I was there as a ballboy. Frank Baumann stood there, completely free in front of Richard Golz and had the biggest chance, he just had to dip it in from two meters away. But he missed. And almost at the same time Åge Fjörtoft scored in Frankfurt - and we got relegated. I’ll never forget the reactions then. The noise in the stadium, the shock of the masses after Baumann’s miss, it’s burned into my memory. It’s lucky I was so young. You get over such things more quickly. I probably went and played football.

[Bundesliga Schlusskonferenz 1999. (A nightmare).]

Do you remember your first stadium visit? Yes. Must have been the season when we played in Regionalliga Süd, so in 1994. The team played in front of kind of a bleak backdrop. Well, it was great by Regionalliga standards, just not by Club standards. Unfortunately I don’t remember the opponent, I do remember it was a second team. So all in all rather dismal. And yet I was there all the time after that in the following years. As a ballboy, as a mascot, with my friends, with my family, in the stands. I was there for pretty much everything.

Your greatest experience as a fan? The Pokal win of course. Jan Kristiansen into the top corner from 30 meters, in extra time, an incredible evening. I was there in our pub, banging on the table from sheer joy. I went completely berserk. Afterwards my cousin and I joined the car procession, with him sounding the horn, me at the window. Then on to the Plärrer (big square in Nuremberg, editor’s note). A perfect highlight of a night.

These days, as a professional player with the know-how that comes with that, standing in the stadium you probably assess many situations very differently than us would-be-experts. Does that cause problems? Does it ever! When people around me start hurling abuse in the direction of the pitch, I shout abuse right back at them. It’s always the worst on the grandstand, because the expectations are the highest there. I’ve gotten into fights with people many times there.

For example? Once, I was playing for Aalen at the time and was on a visit to Nürnberg, Marcos Antonio made several mistakes in a game against Stuttgart and in the course of that was at fault for [FCN] conceding a goal. Except for the ultras the entire stadium was booing him. At some point it got just cruel. I got a really tight feeling in my chest. I thought about going home, it really hurt. Then I got into a fight with an elderly gentleman. I don’t remember everything that was said, apart from the last bit.

Which was? I told him he’d lost his marbles.

Does that inhibit you, as a player, knowing exactly which kinds of reactions a mistake can cause in the crowd? No, it actually rather spurs me on. Because I know how superficial these reactions can be. And I’ve long gotten past carrying my mistakes with me for weeks. It’s not like I’m killing anybody. A mistake is still just a mistake in a football match.

In 2010 you left the Club because you didn’t see any perspective for yourself in the first team. Was it liberating for you playing in Aalen for a club that you weren’t as personally connected with? On the one hand, yes. On the other hand I didn’t take long to identify with the club and the town. People like to smile down on clubs like Aalen, Sandhausen or Heidenheim. So that made it extra nice to play away and win. You always knew: after a home defeat against Aalen, the opponent’s coach would be called into question. I think during my time at Aalen alone we fired three opponents’ coaches. Just because they lost to us at home.

At Aalen you managed to establish yourself as a professional under Ralph Hasenhüttl. You went on to KSC, where in 2015 under coach Markus Kauczinski you almost made the leap into Bundesliga. In the second leg of the relegation play-off against HSV you were only a few seconds away from promotion… When Marcelo Diaz took that free-kick I was standing in the wall.

HSV had only this one last shot to escape relegation. Did you catch any of what was being said between Diaz and Rafael van der Vaart? Allegedly they discussed which of them would take the shot. Yes, they were talking and both standing close to the ball. I was completely convinced that van der Vaart would shoot. I told the other guys in the wall „100% van der Vaart, 100% van der Vaart.“ I kept repeating that. It was completely clear to me that in this moment their greatest player would take the ball. I didn’t expect Diaz at all. We had analysed their scorers before the game, in the entire season Diaz hadn’t taken a single free-kick.

[KSC-HSV]

But Diaz did in that moment - and put the ball into the top corner. How did you feel in the hours after missing promotion? Immediately after the final whistle I was very emotional and cried. Then we were standing in front of the fans and they sang „Ein Kompliment“ by Sportfreunde Stiller: (singing) „Ich wollte dir - nur mal eben sagen - dass du das - Größte für mich bist!“ [„I just wanted to tell you that to me you are the greatest“ (…)] One of the nicest moments of my career. After that we finished our round and I saw my family in the stands, 20, 25 Valentinis. They were all crying. Everybody. My father, my mother, my wife, even my best friend. It felt like they were sadder than I was. Somehow that made me happy. It’s weird to explain, but experiences like that hurt less when they’re shared. Having people with you that feel you so much, that’s great consolation.

How long did you take to get over this shock? It only really hit me square in the face a few days later when I was already on holiday. I realised then what had actually happened. I was 26 years old, these two games had been my chance to play in the Bundesliga. Maybe - very probably - the only chance. And there were players like Dominic Peitz, Daniel Gordon and Dirk Orlishausen. Men over 30 for which it had definitely been the last chance. After this realisation it really, really hurt.

But then, three years later, you personally got there after all, you made it to the Bundesliga. And on top of that with your club, 1. FC Nürnberg, to which you had returned in 2017. What pictures are there in your head when you think back to last May? We beat Sandhausen and we were through. Already on the way back to Nürnberg we partied like crazy. At some point we ran out of beer, the bus had to stop so we could get some more. At the service station we met fans, so we stayed and celebrated with them for a bit. When we drove on at every bridge [across the Autobahn] there were people celebrating, and Club banners. When we finally arrived back in the city we didn’t immediately go out to the fans. We went into the changing room through the back door, the fans had no idea when we’d come back. And this knowledge, shortly we’ll run out and start [-], the anticipation, that we’d go out and they’d see us and light their bengal flares, the excitement, it was overwhelming.

There was a video going viral on the internet that showed the entire team loudly bawling a Juve song in nearly accentless Italian. You must be a good teacher! No, no, I don’t deserve any credit for that! The thing with „Storia di un grande amore“, that was the idea of our captain Hanno Behrens and Tim Leibold.

You’ll have to explain. On the second or third day of the season I was in the showers after training. Suddenly I heard the song come over the speakers in the changing room. I ran there, still naked, to see who was responsible. Hanno and Tim were waiting for me. I was all „Whut?!“ and Hanno replied „This song is wicked!“ After that the song accompanied the team through the entire season.

In which you missed only one game - but of all games, it had to be the derby against Fürth at home. Where did you watch it? I was standing in the block [Nordkurve, among the ultras]. Though I couldn’t really join in the chants, because I was too focused on the game. But it was very interesting to me, seeing just how much work the ultras invest into the atmosphere. I hadn’t really realised before, because I'd been standing too far up, but against Fürth I stood down at the bottom, close to the Vorsänger [what’s the proper term? The people with the megaphones, that lead the chants?]. I became really aware of just how exhausting it is for them. They practically work as hard as we do on the pitch. The prodding when it’s not loud enough - there are some real fights there.

Things happen fast in football. Half a year after the huge euphoria you find yourselves in last place of the Bundesliga table with Nürnberg. Is a 0-7 defeat at Dortmund especially excruciating to you, because you have so many private connections to the club? All the people in my environment, practically without exception, are either fans or at the very least big Club-sympathisers. Immediately there’s the question „What happened?!“ And I don’t have any other answer besides „Well what do you think happened? We got beaten up 0-7.“ It can be quite gruelling. On the other hand my phone explodes especially after victories. I get many more reactions then.