History and anecdotes of the Serbian of Kosovar origin, who arrived in Turin in 2010. A Juventus meteor, a great collective blunder
He sported a flowing blond mane, painted here and there with some charming reflection of lighter light, just like Nedved. His eyes were narrow, flickering and fleeting, the same as Nedved’s. He played on the wing, and it was from there that Nedved left for his raids. It had an electric stroke, which ignited in a flash of magnesium, like the flashes of cameras of yore: it was Nedved’s shot. He also had the temper of a curmudgeon, the same that made Nedved a curmudgeon. But there was one small detail: it wasn’t Nedved.