Remembering Maradona: The beautiful villain
Growing up, Diego Maradona was something of a villain in our household.
I wasn’t around for the 1986 World Cup in Mexico, but I heard of it. Boy, did I hear of it. I’m not sure you can grow up in a household with a soccer-mad English parent and not learn of the night Maradona cost England a chance at a World Cup semifinal.
How he gave Argentina its first lead with the infamous “Hand of God” goal, punching the ball into the net in a game that frowns upon using your hands. How he later solidified the 2-1 victory by weaving past four English opponents from midfield to pull off what has since been dubbed the “goal of the century,” long considered the greatest individual effort of all time.
But even the most ardent England fan — and that I am not, as much for the team’s ability to break my heart as my Canadian roots — must admit that any vilification of Maradona was predominately rooted in the kind of jealousy that only
sport’s best can bring out in opposing fans. You may have hated watching him rip apart your game, especially the rough and tumble British style of the day, with his cunning, otherworldly technical skill, but more than anything you loved watching him play, because he was undoubtedly one of — if not the — greatest of all time.
The Beautiful Game got its nickname from players such as Maradona, whose silky skills have since inspired generations of athletes: Lionel Messi, Cris
tiano Ronaldo, Marta and Kylian Mbappe among them.
Maradona died Wednesday at the age of 60 after suffering cardiac arrest at his home in the outskirts of Buenos Aires, two weeks after being released from an Argentine hospital following brain surgery. Drugs and alcohol addiction marred the later years of his career and his life, but the game, and the community around it, is lesser without one of its everlasting stars, who said he was given a soccer ball soon after he could walk and slept with it at night.
That World Cup in ’86, which Argentina went on to win, was Maradona’s crowning glory before his career began to slide, twice suspended internationally for positive drug tests before his retirement in 1997.
For much of the rest of his life, the world got a rare glimpse of the human side of a legendary athlete, as Maradona very publicly battled his demons. He became a cautionary tale of what the high life of a professional athlete can do. He was a reminder that no matter how untouchable a star may be within the confines of a game, at home they may be no different from you and me.
It made Maradona less godlike — and more relatable.
“When you’re on the pitch, life goes away. Everything goes away,” he said in Asif Kapadia’s 2019 documentary about Maradona’s time with Italian side Napoli.
That wasn’t just the case for Maradona himself. When he was on the pitch, his play was an escape for his fans around the world — and even his opponents.