Look at how happy he looks there. Now, after having been on this earth for a few millenia too many, that smile has vanished. He's turned into a cynical old man with his devilish young looks still intact. Drinking copious amounts of wine is the only thing that keeps him sane. Is he not impressed? No shit he's not impressed. The man lived to see Jesus turn water into wine, the Roman empire in its heyday, Vesuvius bursting into flames, and all seven wonders of the world live in crystal clear, high definition. Basic bitches pretending to surf and a circus clown juggling knives won't impress him. They just make him wonder when the Earth started hitting such low points of entertainment. But he has no choice. He can't end it. It's a curse more than a blessing. All that's left is drinking himself into a stupor and still marching out onto the field. His self repairing liver allowing him to drink with no long-term side effects. And he's become so good at drinking, that his performances while plastered beyond oblivion trump all other mortals. It's all he has left. The only enjoyment he gets. Don't be surprised when in twenty years, we'll see a clean shaven youngster with rugged looks donning the Azzurri jersey and being heralded as the next Pirlo. For he in fact, will be Pirlo himself.