Andrea Pirlo belongs to a dying breed of sporting mavericks

“I lifted my eyes to the heavens and asked for help because if God exists, there's no way he's French. I took a long, intense breath. That breath was mine, but it could have been the manual worker who struggles to make it to the end of the month, the rich businessmen who is a bit of a s---, the teacher, the student, the Italian expats who never left our side during the tournament, the well-to-do Milanese signora, the hooker on the street corner. In that moment, I was all of them.”

This is an extract from Andrea Pirlo’s autobiography. He is describing his thoughts as he sauntered up to score the first penalty of Italy’s World Cup final shootout against France in 2006.

His autobiography is entitled I Think Therefore I Play. He is not like other sportsmen.

The 36-year-old Juventus midfielder last night returned to Berlin – the scene of Italy’s World Cup triumph – to play in what could be his last meaningful football match. He lined up against Barcelona in the Champions League final with rumours rife that he’s set to join Frank Lampard at fledgling MLS outfit New York City FC. Checking into world football’s ritziest retirement home would see the game’s last true maverick fade from view.

How has Pirlo attained such a cult status? He’s not broken out into anything more strenuous than a jog since turning 30, is a defensive liability and has played his entire 20-year career within Italy’s controversy-ravaged Serie A. In a world of footballers built like Avengers crossed with 100m sprinters, Pirlo is a sloped-shouldered anomaly.

Yet this is precisely why we love him. Pirlo is an artist. A mesmeric metronome who last misplaced a pass in 1998. An ice-cool dispatcher of pressure-cooker penalties. The inspiration behind around 83 per cent of the world’s beards. A man who wore a t-shirt emblazoned with the slogan ‘No Pirlo No Party’ after Italy were knocked out of last summer’s World Cup.

Can you imagine Cristiano Ronaldo or Lionel Messi writing about hookers on street corners in their autobiographies? Of course not. You can barely even picture them with beards. Elite sportsmen now have brands to build, portfolios to protect and sponsors to satisfy. Which has meant mavericks like Pirlo becoming rarer than Black Rhinos.

(Photo: Rex Features)

Look around you. How many can you see? Bradley Wiggins returns to action this weekend to re-inject some personality back into cycling but with his yellow shirted glory days behind him. Ronnie O’Sullivan – perhaps Britain’s purest maverick – struggles for inspiration. Zlatan Ibrahimovich dared to disrupt Barcelona’s glorious hegemony and was sent packing. Kevin Pietersen might still be England’s best batsman, but to ECB top brass he’s unemployable. Meanwhile, Mario Balotelli – the Great Maverick Hope - has seen his membership rescinded after a season of humiliation on Merseyside.

Because that’s the thing with mavericks. To qualify they must marry independent spirit with transcendent ability. Robbie Savage, for example, might have had long blonde hair, a tattoo of the Armani logo and some robust views but spending a decade kicking people for middling Premier League clubs does not a maverick make. Jack Wilshere may be a folk hero to half of north London when in possession of a microphone and a jeroboam of champagne, but he needs to get himself regularly on a football pitch. Ian Poulter does a nice line in funny trousers, but no majors, no membership.

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Will we see a new generation of mavericks succeed Pirlo and his roguish band of nonconformists? The outlook looks rather James Milner. Kids are now talent-spotted at nursery-age and their careers carefully conditioned and stage managed. Diets are applied, gym regimes religiously upheld and curfews obeyed. Teenage stars speaking their mind on social media? Instant fines, sponsors frothing at the mouth and Twitter log-ins revoked. The stakes are now often simply too high for individualism to be allowed to flourish.

So look back and enjoy Pirlo’s reign. It has been a triumph for style and a doff of the cap to free thinking. It has been perhaps the last great victory for the maverick.

10 of the all-time greatest sporting mavericks

Ronnie O’Sullivan

A five-time World Champion who won his first UK Championship at 17, the 39-year-old has spent his career commendably fending off demons. Arguably his biggest issue, however? Finding it all a bit too easy. Watching Rocket Ronnie blaze around the baize is one of the sport’s purest pleasures.

John McEnroe

In (loose) possession of sport’s most famous temper, the seven-time major winner captivated crowds with his verbal volleys at official and his tempestuous relationship with Tatum O’Neal all before reinventing himself as the voice of tennis.

Michael Jordan

After winning three consecutive NBA championships and an Olympic gold medal, MJ quit basketball at 30 to indulge his other great love. It turns out Jordan wasn’t quite as good at baseball (he was actually a bit useless), so he simply returned to his beloved Chicago Bulls to win another three titles.

James Hunt

Subject of the surprisingly excellent 2013 biopic Rush, Britain’s former Formula 1 World Champion had a life worthy of the Hollywood treatment. ‘Hunt the Shunt’ applied his cavalier attitude towards booze, beautiful women and, obviously, very fast cars. Enjoyed turning up at official F1 functions in jeans and without shoes.

Eric Cantona

Speaker of seagull-based riddles, upturner of collars and perpetrator of the most infamous assault in British sporting history; no foreign import has entranced the nation like the former Leeds and Manchester United talisman. Enigmatic, brooding and a half-decent actor, too.

Kevin Pietersen

Some consider him a berk, others (including celebrity chums/cheerleaders Piers Morgan and Gary Lineker) remain convinced the man dubbed ‘The Ego’ by his 2006 Ashes opponents is the most naturally gifted batsman of his generation. Now 34, his England career looks dead but his profile remains sky-high.

Johan Cruyff

“If I wanted you to understand it, I would have explained it better.” Beautifully (or perhaps justifiably) arrogant and wonderfully difficult, Cruyff helped reinvent football as the fulcrum of those glorious 1970s Dutch sides. Before doing it all over again as Barcelona boss in the 1990s.

Sir Bradley Wiggins

With his sideburns, wardrobe of Fred Perry polo shirts, feather cut and acerbic wit, Wiggins didn’t look or sound much like your average Olympic gold medallist or Britain’s first ever Tour de France winner. Let alone Knight of the Realm.

Seve Ballesteros

It wasn’t really the late, great Spaniard’s charm, good looks or even his ability to pull off pastel golfwear that earned him his army of fans. It was his flair and ambition to achieve the extraordinary. Plenty won more, but no one won with more style.

Muhammad Ali

Endlessly quotable and with limitless talent to back up a merciless ego. The former Cassius Clay pierced popular culture whilst embracing the civil rights movement and continues to inspire. The Greatest of All Time blazed a trail for mavericks in sport.