Perfect 10 standson top of the pedestal

DIEGO Maradona was the greatest player I have ever had the privilege to report on, attempting somehow to find the words to capture the magic that this small, stocky Argentinian could conjure up when opponents were attempting to slice him into tiny pieces.

So ignore the cheap retrospectives of his career that focus on the bouts of cheating, the Hand of God against England, the sad slide into drugtaking brought on by the pressures of fame and brutal attentions of unscrupulous defenders. Because it’ s really very simple: if you love football, you loveMaradona.

You love his poise under pressure. You love his technique, his vision, his incredible invention. Everyone has a special moment of cherishing the perfect 10, whether experienced in the flesh or viewed from the sofa, open-mouthed inadmiration.

For those of us fortunate to be in the sweltering Stadio delle Alpi on June 24, 1990, for Argentina v Brazil in the World Cup round of 16, we marvelled at Maradona weaving past Alemao, Dunga and Ricardo Rocha, instinctively knowing that Claudio Caniggia was off and running.

Maradona instantly found his accomplice with a pass that really required a compass to locate its intended target, even though he was off-balance, even though the ball needed playing with his supposedly weakerrightfoot.

Even though the timing was so tight, the second so split it was close to being fractured into minuscule shards, Maradona delivered. Only he could. Only he could pick out Caniggia, who promptly skipped around Claudio Taffarel and scored. Those lucky enough to be in Turin knew they were in the presence of genius.

Only two players can be cherished in his bracket, can share his pedestal. Pele before him, and Lion el M es si after.

But there was something about the way Mar a dona mesmerise d—both spectators and opponents alike — that puts him alone at the very top.