GETTING THE DIEGO SCOOP AND THE DAY HE LIT UP DUBLIN...
THE Republic of Ireland bus had just left the training ground when another bus, decked in the red and white livery of Sevilla, pulled in, and players alighted. Instantly, I recognised Diego Maradona. He was on the chunky side by then, aged 32. By hook or by crook, he was going to appear in the next day’s paper. Maradona spoke very little English but we threw names at him, desperately seeking a reaction. Jack Charlton, Liam Brady and the World Cup drew nods of recognition and a few words of Spanish. It was more than enough. I wrote something along the lines of ‘Maradona’s World Cup warning for Charlton’s heroes’, and how Ireland were missing a player of Brady’s ability in midfield. It didn’t matter, we had a Diego scoop — as did the other members of the Irish press corps who were present. I still have a photo of a rather bemused Maradona surrounded by us scribblers in the warm November sunshine close by the Guadalquivir Canal. As we waited for our taxis to arrive, Maradona strolled out onto the pitch where a bag of balls nestled. He took out a handful and casually lined them up towards the goal. The first three all smacked against the crossbar — different class, as Jimmy Magee famously called him. It was the third and final encounter with one of the truly great footballers. In 1980, instead of preparing for journalism exams in Rathmines College of Commerce, three of us headed to Lansdowne Road for the visit of Argentina. It was some coup by the FAI to land the reigning world champions and they sent over a decent team, including Ubaldo Filliol, Jorge Olguin, Daniel Passarella, Alberto Tarantini and Americo Gallego, who’d all played in the 1978 World Cup final against Holland. But it was Maradona, the tousle-haired teenager with the swivel hips, we all wanted to see. He didn’t disappoint, crossing for the only goal of the game, a diving header from Daniel Valencia, and repeatedly repelled by Irish goalkeeper Gerry Peyton, who had a blinder. Eoin Hand was in temporary charge after Alan Kelly’s shock resignation and was shorn of the Arsenal trio, Liam Brady, David O’Leary and Frank Stapleton, who played 48 hours earlier in the Cup Winners’ Cup final, and Mark Lawrenson too. The FAI, quite rightly, felt Hand came through his ‘trial’ and he was appointed as manager soon after. A decade later, I was privileged to report on Argentina against Brazil in the last 16 of the World Cup. It should have been 4-0 to Brazil who dominated play in sundrenched Turin and hit the woodwork several times. Hampered by an ankle injury, Maradona was a passenger who hardly merited a mention in my match notes, until he seized possession on half-way with 10 minutes left. With a dribble that revived echoes of 1986 against England, he slalomed through the yellow and blue ranks, drawing defenders towards him before slipping the ball into the path of Claudio Caniggia to burgle the winner. As the net bulged, the Little General was on his knees, unbowed. Maradona leaves us on the 15th anniversary of the passing of George Best. If neither were foot-perfect in life, when there was a ball at their feet, they certainly made it sing.