Everything had to be new, never before seen, impossible – from a fork to panettone, from a chair to a skyscraper... to the incomparable and disturbing voice of Maria Callas.

Huge blown-up photos, screens showing quirky images, the smell of camphorated oil, mock dressing-rooms with mock showers where water rains down from above – but that’s just an illusion created by a hyper-real projection. Lockers belonging to players from both sides that, like an advent calendar, spring a surprise on whoever turns the key. Click, Rocco’s tracksuit; click, a small television showing an interview; click, the secret briefcase of paperwork for transferring players; click, the stitched leather Milan ball.

Above the metal lockers are the legendary signs bearing Helenio’s sayings: ‘He who does not give his all gives nothing’ and ‘Think with speed, act with speed, play with speed’.

In the dark rooms for the mega-projections the spectator seats are ingeniously inventive: they are made of piles of Gazzetta dello Sport bound together with string.

Last but not least, the room for the silverware: the cups displayed on opposite walls, the trophies attesting to the legendary victories of Milan and Inter. The Milan of the sixties was the city of the Wizard and the Master, the city of the future and of things still not invented that you invented for yourself – like the fold-up blackboard made of green sheet metal that HH had constructed with his own hands, or the rag ball, a black woollen stocking he had stolen from his mother and held together with string – his first pathetic, rough-and-ready pelota. The money and the sponsors would appear on the horizon much later on.

He who has the will to act succeeds. You lose only when you cease to fight.