Tomas Cerny – Behind the Gloves

Crete, 2015 — football, food, friendship and one very unexpected guest

There are moments in football when you stop and think: how did this become my life?

One of those moments came in Crete, when Gennaro Gattuso came to our house for a BBQ.

Not the Gattuso I had watched on television, flying into tackles, fighting for every ball, arguing with anyone who got in his way, and playing every game as if it was life or death. Not just the AC Milan legend, the World Cup winner or the Champions League winner. This was Gattuso in our BBQ house in a small village above Heraklion — cooking, talking, laughing, and at one point holding Odie as if our little sausage dog belonged to him.

At the time, Laura and I were living in a villa in Pentamodi, a village in the hills above Heraklion. It was a beautiful place, the kind of place that still feels slightly unreal when I think back to it. The house had four bedrooms, and from the top-floor rooms you could see the sea in the distance. Around the villa there were olive trees, pomegranate trees and an extensive herb garden.

We were given extra virgin olive oil pressed in the village from olives that had grown in our garden. In September and October, the pomegranates were incredible. I used to have Greek yoghurt with honey and fresh pomegranate seeds for breakfast. It sounds simple, but it was one of those small routines that made Crete feel special.

The villa also had an outdoor swimming pool and a sauna, although in the heat of Crete the sauna was probably the least necessary thing in the entire house. But the best part of the place, and the part that matters most for this story, was the BBQ house.

It had a big indoor BBQ, a pizza oven and a proper kitchen. It became the natural gathering place. We hosted a lot of BBQs there with teammates, families and friends from all over the world – Spain, Argentina, Slovenia, Italy and beyond. There was always food, smoke, noise, football stories, different languages and that relaxed feeling you sometimes get abroad, when people are far from home and friendships form quickly.

Next door to us lived Luigi Riccio and his family. Luigi was Gattuso’s assistant at OFI Crete, our city rivals in Heraklion. The two villas shared the same grounds, so we got to know Luigi’s family quite naturally. It started as a neighbourly thing rather than a football thing. Families speaking, kids around, normal life.

Then one day Luigi mentioned that Gattuso was coming to visit.

He asked whether we could all do the BBQ together at our house.

That was how Gennaro Gattuso ended up coming round to our home in Pentamodi.

There was already a Scottish connection. Gattuso had played for Rangers, and he had met his wife, Monica Romano, during his time in Glasgow. From what I understood, she came from a Scottish-Italian family connected with the restaurant world in Glasgow. Luigi also had fond memories of Glasgow. We were in Crete, but suddenly several worlds met in one place — Italy, Greece, Glasgow and my own journey through Scottish football.

When Gattuso arrived with his family, he brought loads of food and wine. Proper Italian style. He was not coming empty-handed. And he definitely was not coming just to sit down and wait for someone to serve him. He insisted that he would prepare the food himself.

But at first, he was exactly as I remembered him from television.

Fuming.

Tense.

Full of energy.

You could feel straight away that he was carrying the stress of the situation at his club. He was not happy with what was happening at OFI. Players were not being paid, things around the club were difficult, and he was frustrated that players were not doing what he was asking of them. It felt like watching the Gattuso I remembered as a player — the fierce one, the one who looked as if every tackle, every argument and every minute of the game mattered deeply.

That was exactly how I remembered him as a player. He was not the type of midfielder who simply passed the ball and jogged away. He played with fire. He was aggressive, emotional, demanding, completely committed. You could see why teammates loved him and opponents hated playing against him. He looked like someone who could not accept half-effort from anyone, including himself.

And that evening, for the first hour or so, that intensity was still there.

Then, slowly, the evening changed.

A couple of glasses of red wine helped. The food started going on the BBQ. The atmosphere relaxed. And suddenly the fierce Gattuso from television became Rino the guest — relaxed, funny and full of stories.

He cooked amazing steaks on the BBQ. He showed us how to prepare a tomato and bread salad, probably a version of panzanella, with good tomatoes, bread, olive oil and simple ingredients. It was the kind of food that only works when the ingredients are excellent and the person making it knows exactly what they are doing.

The wine was quality. The food was unbelievable. But what I remember most is the company.

Gattuso and Luigi both had such fond memories of Glasgow. They spoke about Scotland with real warmth, and that made the evening even more special for me. I had my own Scottish football story by then, so there was a connection there that went beyond the usual football small talk.

While the adults talked, cooked and ate, Gattuso and Luigi’s children were running around and jumping in our pool. Laura was there too. She was pregnant with our first child, so she couldn’t drink, but I think she still enjoyed the company and the atmosphere of the evening.

Laura’s family were visiting us at the time as well, so it made the evening feel even more special. Our nephew Nathan was there too. He plays for Ayr United now, but back then he was a little boy, just playing with the other kids. He got to meet Gattuso and be part of the evening without probably realising how unusual it all was.

For all the football names and stories around the table, it also felt like a family evening — children playing, food cooking, people relaxing.

At one point I mentioned Andy Goram.

Andy had been my goalkeeping coach at Hamilton, and of course he had been Gattuso’s teammate at Rangers. Gattuso had huge respect for him. When he realised I had Andy’s phone number, he immediately insisted that we had to call him.

That was another surreal moment.

I was standing in a BBQ house in a village in Crete, with Gennaro Gattuso telling me we needed to phone Andy Goram.

Football can be a strange life.

Another thing I remember clearly is Odie. Gattuso absolutely loved him. This fierce, intense, World Cup-winning midfielder — the man people remembered for tackles, arguments and that warrior spirit — kept holding our little sausage dog. That contrast was brilliant. It showed the other side of him. The side you do not see when someone is playing in a Champions League semi-final or fighting for every ball in midfield.

I also remember wanting a photo with him. Part of me really wanted to ask. How often do you have Gennaro Gattuso standing in your BBQ house, cooking steaks and holding your dog? But I felt too embarrassed. I was also not sure if it was appropriate. He was the manager of OFI, our city rivals, and I was playing for Ergotelis. It was exactly one of those strange football situations. In real life, it was a completely normal evening. But you still wonder how it might look from the outside.

So I never properly asked.

I did find a few blurry photos from that evening somewhere, which in a way probably suit the memory better than a perfectly posed picture would have. Looking back, I still wish I had asked for one proper photo — not for social media or to show off, but simply because it was one of those surreal little moments from football life that would have been nice to capture properly.

I met him a couple more times after that, before we both eventually left the island for reasons connected to the same difficult reality of football in Crete. The financial problems at OFI were serious, and the situation became impossible for him. My own time in Crete would also end earlier than expected.

That is something I understood more and more during my own career.

From the outside, people often see only the club names, the sunshine, the villas and the stadiums. But underneath all of that, there is often a lot of uncertainty. They do not see players waiting for wages, coaches fighting situations they cannot control, families trying to settle in new countries, or the strange mix of privilege and pressure that comes with football abroad.

But when I think about that night, I do not think first about the problems.I think about the villa in Pentamodi. The olive trees. The pomegranates. Laura there with me. Her family visiting. Nathan playing with the other kids. The smell of the BBQ. The sound of people laughing. Gattuso cooking steaks. Children jumping in the pool. Odie being held by one of the fiercest midfielders of all time. The stories about Glasgow. The phone call to Andy Goram.

And I still can’t quite believe it happened.

For a boy from Králíky, a small town in the Czech Republic, who could hardly have dreamed of becoming a professional footballer, moments like that still feel surreal. Football took me to places I never expected, into rooms and situations I could never have imagined.

A village in Crete. A BBQ house above Heraklion. Gennaro Gattuso cooking steaks and telling stories about Glasgow.

It sounds almost ridiculous when I write it down.

But it happened.

What stayed with me

Sometimes the best football memories are not from the matches.

Often, they come from the things around football. The dinners, the families, the people you meet, the places you live, and the friendships that happen only because football takes you somewhere you would never otherwise have gone.

That night in Crete reminded me that behind every famous name there is still a person. Gattuso the player was fire, intensity and aggression. But away from the pitch, once he relaxed, he was funny, warm and brilliant company.

Football gave me pressure, uncertainty and plenty of difficult moments.

But it also gave me nights like that.

And for that, I will always be grateful.