TURIN, Italy — One recent afternoon, Weston McKennie walked into a pizza parlor.

In this part of the world, where he has emerged as one of the top midfielders in Serie A and perhaps Juventus’ most consistent player, McKennie can rarely go out in public.

La Lampara, a restaurant run by the cousin of his personal chef, is a safe haven. He even stores a bottle of Hidden Valley ranch dressing, his favorite condiment, in the refrigerator to swirl on his pizza.

But in Leeds, where McKennie was chastised by fans for looking overweight, it all sounds like the start of a bad joke.

McKennie spent the second half of last season on loan at Leeds United with the expectation of staying longer. Instead, his introduction to the Premier League was a disaster, marred by accusations by fans that he wasn’t fit and wasn’t making an effort. Suddenly, ranch dressing was no longer just a personality quirk. It was a symptom of the problem that was dragging down the club.

“I feel like I let people down,” he says now.

– Stream on ESPN+: NWSL, LaLiga, Bundesliga, more (U.S.)

At the time, Leeds appeared to be building America’s Team. The investment arm of the NFL’s San Francisco 49ers was set to complete a purchase of the historic club and market it across the Atlantic. Manager Jesse Marsch — of Racine, Wisconsin, and D.C. United — had signed two of McKennie’s U.S. teammates, Tyler Adams and Brenden Aaronson. (They joined Englishman Jack Harrison, who attended high school in Massachusetts and played college soccer at Wake Forest.)

McKennie, who started his career at Schalke 04 and moved to Juventus in 2020, was seen as the missing piece, a tireless box-to-box midfielder who would provide a touch of Champions League quality.

Except … none of it happened. Marsch was fired in February 2023, after McKennie had played one game for him. The sale was postponed, though the 49ers eventually acquired the team at a reduced price. After three seasons in the Premier League, Leeds was relegated. “Because they signed half the U.S. national team, who weren’t very good,” Darragh MacAnthony, the owner of Peterborough, said in a radio interview.

Fairly or not, McKennie bore much of the blame. A player who prides himself on his work rate, he appeared sluggish. In more than 1,400 minutes over 20 games, he managed just one assist. He had broken a foot the previous February. That healed, but his form hadn’t recovered. “He wasn’t playing like himself,” Aaronson says. “He had a lot of expectations coming in, and that just took its toll on the pitch.”

When McKennie was substituted out an hour into the season’s final game, a 4-1 loss to Spurs at Elland Road that sealed the club’s return to the second division Championship, the home fans chanted at him, “You fat bastard!”

Leeds’ option to make McKennie’s transfer permanent for a $38 million fee had seemed like a bargain in January 2023. Not surprisingly, the club declined to activate it. “I felt like it was the first time that I had failed,” McKennie says now. “It knocked me down completely. It put me in the situation of having to prove myself all over again.”

Then, McKennie returned to Turin in July and discovered that Juventus didn’t seem to want him back. “The situation that he described to me was horrible,” USMNT head coach Gregg Berhalter says. “He went from a bad situation at Leeds to going back to Juventus, and all of a sudden you don’t have a parking spot or a locker.”

At 25, McKennie’s future as an elite player was far from certain. Now, somehow, he is finishing one of the finest seasons of any American in Europe. A playmaker who can score goals, he’s also a ball-winner who is rarely dispossessed. If he maintains his form, he will greatly enhance the U.S. team’s chances of winning the Copa América this summer in its only meaningful games before the 2026 World Cup. “He’s a difference-maker in the final third, and he can also be a difference-maker in the middle third,” Adams says. “He can do so many things that other players can’t do. I think people are only beginning to see what a difference he can make when he’s playing at his best.”

They’re seeing it now in Turin, where he ranks among Juventus’s most popular players. He sits in a private room at La Lampara, waiting for his pizza, both literally and figuratively in a place where not many people thought he’d be.

“It was difficult for me, honestly,” he says. “But I did it to myself. And my time at Leeds, as bad as it did go, was very important. It was a big moment in my career as far as my development. I am where I am today because of everything I’ve been through. And I’m happy about it. I wouldn’t change any of it.”

During the mostly turgid “Juventus: All or Nothing” documentary series released in 2021, one of the few entertaining scenes shows McKennie with two of his teammates, club legends Giorgio Chiellini and Gianluigi Buffon, discussing food over lunch at the club’s training ground.

“If I don’t eat well, it’s impossible to play,” Chiellini says, in what is probably the most Italian comment ever.

McKennie urges Chiellini to consider smothering his pizza in ranch, that uniquely American, buttermilk-based invention. “What are you saying to me?” Chiellini responds in mock horror. He then asks about McKennie’s taste in coffee. McKennie makes a face and reveals, in graphic terms, that espresso sends him directly to the bathroom. Laughter ensues. Hanging out with these guys seems like fun.

McKennie’s appealingly quirky personality makes him a popular teammate everywhere he goes. “Relaxed, bubbly good vibes,” is how Glasgow Rangers’ Rabbi Matondo, who played with him at Schalke 04, describes him. “He’s just in his own world, doing his own thing.”

McKennie’s father, a U.S. Air Force officer, moved his family from one base to another. McKennie learned to make friends easily. “I make myself so open and — I don’t know — goofy because I want people to feel comfortable to come talk to me,” he says. At Schalke, he spent hours mastering magic tricks he found on YouTube so he could entertain his teammates. He also tried to initiate Matondo into the Cult of Ranch. “Have you been in America?” he asked Matondo, who grew up in Wales. When Matondo told him he had, McKennie’s eyes lit up. “Did you try ranch?”

McKennie also plays Fortnite relentlessly. He has a Harry Potter fascination that has led to a goal celebration in which he appears to wave a magic wand and, lately, a deal to promote the video game. “I dabble in different things,” McKennie says. “I’m just the guy who loves to be free and do what he wants.”

Even in the changing room before games, McKennie seems carefree — so much so that teammates sometimes wonder if he’s properly focused. “Then he crosses the white line [onto the pitch] and he becomes a different animal,” Matondo says. “And you see him running and running and going after the ball everywhere. It’s amazing to me.”

“He’s like a child,” says Adams. “Both on and off the field. And that’s what makes him great.”

But McKennie’s antics mask a vulnerability. “He has so much feeling inside of him,” says Berhalter. “That’s who he is. And being receptive to that is part of getting the best out of him.”

At a USMNT training camp in Orlando, Florida, in 2019, Berhalter found McKennie to be distracted. “He could tell that my head wasn’t there,” said McKennie, who was 21 at the time. “That I was a little bit off. Maybe not my happy self.” It turned out that he was having issues with his girlfriend. “I was young, I was in love,” he says. “I just went to Gregg and talked with him — not at all about soccer, but just about life. I legit cried in front of him. I sat there and cried and he hugged me, like a father who’s not a father.”

McKennie has also had to spend stretches of his career striving to gain acceptance as an elite player. “My whole career has kind of been that path where people have doubted me, labeled me as an underdog,” he says.

As a teenager, he was chosen for a U17 national team residency in Florida, which set him on the path to becoming a professional. But in 2015, he was cut from the team. That motivated him to not only succeed in American soccer, but to go up against the world’s best players in Europe, where he’d been introduced to the game while his father was stationed in Germany. He turned down a scholarship offer at the University of Virginia, then declined an offer to play in MLS for FC Dallas, his hometown team. Not yet 18, he went to Schalke, where he set out to show the skeptics that an unknown young American could be a Bundesliga standout.

“Weston is at his best when people count him out,” says Berhalter.

His evolution came in fits and starts. At times, he questioned his decision. “Somewhere deep down, though, I knew I had the potential,” he says.

In November, 2017, McKennie scored against Portugal in his USMNT debut. When Berhalter became the U.S. coach a year later, he established a leadership council, consisting of six or seven players who rotate into the traditional positions of captain and vice captain. From the beginning, McKennie was a fixture. Yet he felt uncomfortable as a role model. “I’m too free-spirited,” he says.

Given the armband for the first time at Chicago’s Soldier Field in the Concacaf Gold Cup final against Mexico in 2019, he suffered through one of his worst games as a U.S. international. Then, though the responsibilities of the captain include representing the team with the media, McKennie refused to give an interview.

He still spurns official titles, but if you were a fly on the wall, he says now, you’d be surprised to see how far he has come. Invariably, he’s the USMNT member who welcomes new arrivals. If a group of established players are headed out somewhere, Aaronson says, “he’s always the one to text the new guys and make sure they know about it. I’ve seen him do it again and again. I’m really impressed by that.”

McKennie also lets his U.S. teammates know that they can come to him with insecurities, competitive issues or other problems. “Maybe you’re going through the same thing that I went through,” he says, “because I’ve had my share of hiccups.” That includes getting sent home from the final round of qualifying for the 2022 World Cup for spending one night outside the club’s COVID-19 bubble at a Nashville hotel and bringing an unauthorized visitor into his hotel room during another, which earned him the disgust of former USMNT standout Landon Donovan.

“And I remember the times when maybe I thought I didn’t belong,” McKennie says. “So I try to tell the players, ‘You belong. You’re here. Trust yourself. Believe in yourself.'”

And then, last summer, McKennie had to convince himself of the same.

Nobody would have questioned McKennie in August if he had asked to get a fresh start somewhere else, especially when it became clear he wasn’t in Juventus’s plans. “A lot of players would have said, ‘I’m done here. I’m leaving'” Berhalter says. “And he did just the opposite. He said, ‘I’m going to prove them all wrong.'”

He was included on Juventus’s preseason tour to California and Florida, both to showcase him and to provide a marquee name for American fans. Still, his determination impressed manager Max Allegri, who saw utility in a player who competed each time he stepped on the field. “Weston has this mentality that he’s able to brush things aside,” Aaronson says. “He went back to Juventus and did what he did because he’s not focused on things like other people are. It’s a source of strength for him.”

Start running now and don’t stop until the end of the season, Allegri told him, and McKennie is still running. He began the season as a substitute at right-back, then stepped in when Tim Weah strained a thigh and couldn’t play. Soon enough, he was back in the midfield, using his skill as a distributor to get the ball forward to Dusan Vlahovic and Federico Chiesa.

McKennie has operated from both the right side and in the middle, depending on Allegri’s needs. He hurt a knee in January, which necessitated a trip to see a specialist in France, then separated a shoulder in a collision with a Frosinone player in late February. Yet he still ranks among Serie A leaders this season in clearances, progressive passes and assists, an unusual trifecta that illustrates his varied skills.

In late December, when the well-regarded Italian daily Tuttosport published its compilation of Juventus player ratings for the season’s first half, McKennie led the team. “Right now,” Weah says, “he’s top-tier. He’s one of the best midfielders in the world.”

Against Frosinone in February, he played one of the better games in memory by an American in Europe before hurting his shoulder in the 82nd minute. He created Juventus’ first goal by making a run down the right side without the ball, then receiving a pass he controlled with a single touch and sending the ball into the box for Vlahovic, who poked it home. Half an hour later he fed Vlahovic again, a pinpoint delivery from a step inside the box, for a second goal. Later, he moved from the right wing to a role as an inside midfielder, from which he was controlling play. Until he collided awkwardly with Kaio Jorge and was taken off, he was clearly the best player on the field. The next day, Tuttosport dubbed him the “King of Assists.”

Within days, the local newspaper in Leeds, the Yorkshire Evening Post, would run a story about the interest McKennie was suddenly generating among England’s biggest clubs. The headline: “Leeds United Flop Linked with Manchester United and Arsenal.”

Unlike the vast majority of football professionals, McKennie professes to have no interest in a game unless he’s playing in it. He can’t remember the last time he watched one on television, start to finish. In fact, he may never have done it.

“I used to ask him, ‘How do you play football the way you do and have no knowledge of anything going on in the sport?” Matondo says.

In summer 2018, while in preseason camp with Schalke 04, McKennie went to Christian Pulisic’s house in Dortmund with a bunch of other players to see the France-Croatia World Cup final. Except, McKennie didn’t actually see it. “Everyone was on the couch watching the game,” he says. “There were a whole bunch of TVs.” One of them was right in front of McKennie, but he had his head down playing Fortnite.

“They all just laughed at me,” he says. “Like, ‘how can you be playing that right now? This game is so good.’ And I would look up every once in a while. But it just doesn’t interest me. I’ll play soccer and give it everything I have. But that mentality when I’m not playing, I need to switch it off.”

McKennie is deeply involved in fashion and music. He has a real estate business with his brother in Dallas. When his career ends, he says, he could imagine doing something in one of those areas, or maybe becoming an agent, or even a broadcaster, though in that case he’d probably have to watch games. “I enjoy playing football. I want to go as far as I can,” he says. “But honestly, if my career ended tomorrow, I would be happy. And I wouldn’t have regrets for anything that I’ve done.”

At 25, McKennie believes he has plenty of football ahead of him. First comes this summer’s Copa América, which he believes the U.S. can win. “Maybe people don’t look at us against Argentina or Brazil and say, ‘Wow, look at the USA,'” he says. “But that’s why Gregg is so important. Because, yeah, a team can have a lot of individual talent, but when you have a team that has quality and potential and will sacrifice everything for each other, that will make a difference.”

He even fantasizes about that happening at the next level. “Do I believe that we can win the World Cup? Very slim chances,” he admits. “But it’s, what, eight games? If you can catch fire for those eight games, it can happen. The grit, the desire, a little bit of luck as well — that’s what it takes in a football game. That’s the beauty about it. Anybody can be beaten on any given day.”

McKennie’s contract with Juventus is up after next season. Negotiations are ongoing, but his constant yearning for the next challenge may lead him to agree to a transfer, especially if it involves the unfinished business of proving himself in the Premier League. At the same time, he’s more than content in Turin. He lives in a house on a hill outside the city that he rents from a wealthy doctor. He eats at La Lampara, where they nod when he covers his pizza with creamy dressing. And inside and outside the club, his stock keeps rising.

The food has just arrived when a young woman approaches his table and begs for a picture. Peeking out from behind her is the manager, Fabrizio. He has a guilty look, as if he knows he should be letting McKennie eat in peace. But what can he do? She won’t be denied.

Fabrizio shrugs. “Her favorite player,” he says.