KAKA

Though it seems difficult to believe given what would follow, there was a time when Ricardo Izecson dos Santos Leite – mercifully, known just as Kaka – was a footballer in Europe with zero expectations of himself.

The Brazilian had landed in Italy as a fresh-faced 21-year-old from Sao Paulo, accompanied by the ominous knowledge that so many of his young compatriots before him had tried and failed. Oh, and he would have to break into a first team of Champions League winners with Rivaldo and Rui Costa standing in his way.

But he did – and fast. Kaka, it turned out, was no ordinary young Brazilian. Milan fans would soon discover that, as he helped to deliver them two more Champions League finals in the next four seasons – one avenging the other – en route to personal Ballon d’Or joy in 2007. He did it in style, too, gliding around pitches continent-wide with his usual balletic grace. It was inevitable that he would become a Real Madrid Galactico, and indeed, he joined for some €67 million in 2009.

World Cup success may have evaded Kaka and Brazil’s ‘magic quartet’ after his taste of early glory in 2002 (below), but it hardly diminished his standing among the greats. It’s no wonder that there’s a near-permanent smile on his face as he tackles FourFourTwo readers’ questions about it all…

Which player did you look up to when you were a young lad?

‘mr_birthday21’, via Instagram

My big reference was Rai, the Brazilian attacking midfielder. When I took my first steps in football, he was the main player of that tremendous generation at Sao Paulo who won the 1992 Copa Libertadores Final and Intercontinental Cup against Milan in 1993. Rai played in the same position as me – I couldn’t have had a bigger reference than him in my early days.

You were a very elegant footballer – was that something you always had?

Harry Dobson, Peckham

Well, I never set out to be an elegant player. I’d say it was something that developed naturally over the years. It’s funny because I wasn’t an attacking midfielder when I started: when I was eight or nine years old, I was a striker. But I suffered from a growth delay – about two years in terms of bone age – so a former manager of Sao Paulo’s youth teams, Pita, told me to become a playmaker. He said, “You won’t touch the ball there, boy. I’ll move you back a bit and you’ll have a better chance to play.” Only in the middle of the park was I considered an elegant footballer. I don’t recall hearing a compliment like that in my time as a