I wrote this while I was flying back from Buenos Aires in Feb’20 but never got around to publishing it. My procrastination meant that on his sad day for soccer and a generation of us who have been blessed with watching the genius of Maradona; this gets published as the news of his death is filtering through.
Napoli won the Scudetto in 1987. The sign in front of the cemetery the day after they won the Scudetto read - you don’t know what you missed. If you haven’t seen Diego play you don’t know what footballing genius is. He was God in Naples and when I visited Naples the first time; I went across town to check out the Church of San Gennaro. The nurse who took his blood sample for a test left his blood phial next to Virgin Mary at the church of San Gennaro in Naples. I figured my visit was merited! If you haven’t seen the madness you wouldn’t know what hero worship is all about. He was no less than a Demi God in Argentina, in Naples…yes he was addicted to cocaine. He lied. He cheated, on the field and with his wife. He was human.
He was the greatest footballer that ever lived.
As a Calcuttan, football was always in the blood; Mohun Bagan vs East Bengal was the version of the local el Classico with days of discussions leading up to it and days of discussion dissecting the game. But Diego showed us what football could be, rather should be; and the local el-classicos paled in comparison.
Put the genius of Messi and the single-minded drive of Christiano Ronaldo, the vision of Luca Modric and the insane pace of Mbappe - all into one footballer - you start to gets an understanding of what Diego Armando Maradona was. In buenos Aires you cannot miss his presence. Everyone knows of him, some even claim to know him. His pictures adorn several shops especially in the Boca area. You walk into La Perla the old crumbling quixotic bar in old Boca township and you may even find locals dressed up as Maradona. He in omniscient. The closest to God there was - at least on the football field.
Consider this - at the end of every World Cup the critics and journalists vote for a team of the tournament. Usually the winning team gets 3, sometimes more players in this imaginary team. After Mexico, ’86; the English despite being at the receiving end of Maradona's genius with the foot and with his hand in the quarter finals had three. The Belgians at the receiving end of a Maradona special where he dribbled past seven defenders in a small space to score an incredible goal one I rate even superior to his fabled run against England had two. The Germans defeated in the finals had three. Argentina despite being the winners had one. No guesses who. No one individual not even the great Pele in 1958 was as dominating as Maradona was in 1986. For a Puskas in ’54 one had a Hideguti or a Koscis amongst a galaxy of stars - the magical Magyars. For Pele in ’58 one had a Zagallo. Or Garrincha. Or in ’70, Pele formed part of perhaps the finest all round footballing team the world has ever seen, with folks like Rivelino, Tostao and Jairzinho who scored a goal in every match in the tournament. Beckenbaur had a Muller in ’74 or a Seeler in ‘70.
Argentina had Maradona. Yes, there were 10 other Argentines on the field but how many of us remember Burrachaga? Or Valdano? Or Jose Luis Brown the lanky defender who headed Argentina’s first goal in the final.
I put my neck on the line to say Maradona is (was) the finest footballer the world has ever seen. Sadly, we need to now say, the world HAD ever seen.
Yes, better than Eusebio. Better than Cryuff. Better than Puskas. And yes, better than Pele.
It’s indeed a sad day - one of my heroes from my childhood is no more. May his soul attain Sadgati / eternal peace, something he seemed rather bereft of while alive.
