Now, I don’t wanna sound like a mommy’s boy here, but I’m telling you, without her, I wouldn’t have become a footballer. No chance.
My mother likes to tell the story about the day I was born, because she says she knew from that moment that I would become a footballer. She was in a hospital with my father, and he was acting kind of strange. He looked distracted, which is weird, right? I mean, your son is about to be born. There aren’t many bigger things in life than that, really.
Of course, once I came into this world, he was overwhelmed with joy. But then he said, “O.K., can we find a TV now?” My mother just rolled her eyes, because she knew what he meant. She was like, “Really? Really?” And my father said, “I know, I know, but they’re about to start taking the penalties.” The day was 17 July 1994. Up in Sweden, Victor Lindelöf had just been born. Down in Pasadena, Italy was playing Brazil in the World Cup final.