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Every Argentine who is self-respecting fulfilled a mandate: put a picture of Maradona in the profile of all social networks he has. And if it's one with him, nothing better in life.For Argentines death is a very powerful amnesic: it erases everything bad. Respect, they say.But we are obliged to double the bet, as a divine plan and we go further: death enlarges, exalts, agigates the figure of the one who left . We build a lie, a fable, and it's impossible for us to know where the truth is. We live in a bubble of fanasies and I wonder if they are necessary.Sure, this system loads epic to the figure of the dead man.
But think about it: they sold us that San Martín crossed the Andes on a white horse, unspoilt, superb. The reality is he crossed them half sick, like many of his Grenadiers. And with his library on his back. Posta. Isn't the figure that much more epic?
And is there something more epic than an Argentinean? The little town in Europe where we came from. The three hundred days by boat to reach a continent almost unknown. To a country where hopefully we have an acquaintance. In which they change our surname because they don't understand us the language; of course, we don't speak Spanish. And some of us won't talk about it all until they die. So and all, with effort, which is the only thing we bring, we go ahead. With work, we progress. We grow up. The family. The house. The study we didn't have is our children. M'ijo the dotor. And from time to time we go back to the village where we were born to show the family that they stayed in time how successful we are. Talk to me about epic.
That's why we love Maradona . Because he came to this world with one hand back and one hand forward. He built a career with undeniable values such as effort, sacrifice, work, his focus on progress, on overcoming. Like our grandparents, Diego also blindly believed in himself . As he said in his first report, when he played in the mythical Cebollitas , his longing was to be a world champion with the National Team. Now we're posting all photos with their exploits. Four rivals scoring it. The day when Peruvian Reyna followed him to the locker room. The broken ankle in the 90s World Cup and pass to Caniggia to leave Brazil outside and reach the final. The games with the golf ball at Harvard. Or the ones before we start every match at Napoli. Diego is the most epic ever . From nowhere to legend, which saved the lives of two Argentine journalists in Iran, who all their captors understood was “Maradona”. Then they knew they were Argentines. Then they knew they were journalists and not spies.
If you want to read a note about his thousands of feats inside a football field, outside the paddock of Villa Fiorito that saw him born and no longer exists or any stadium in the world full of fans who just wanted to see him, this is not the note. I'm interested - and I hope you too - understand each other. Villa Fiorito , for example: the pasture that does not exist today should be a public place. Preserved like a museum. Now, yes: three days of mourning and we watch him at Casa Rosada. We are the kingdom of lime and sand.
Not to mention that René Favaloro, the Maradona of medicine, the guy who invented bypass and saved the lives of hundreds of millions of people around the world, committed suicide for lack of state support for his Foundation. And that only relatives should know where they watched him.
But Diego raised the pride of being Argentines to the stars . I think it's kind of sad to be proud of what someone else is doing, unless he's your son.A questionable pride also, because it's about being the best in a sport. He and the team he commanded, of course. I mean, we could once feel proud of something transcendental, right? Once. I don't always say. What do I know... There are Leloir and Houssay (Google) as well as Favaloro. Guys who contributed to the advancement of world science, save lives. I don't tell you a Borges , recognized as the best Spanish writer in history, or a Julio Bocca . Because those would be like the Maradonas of their art.
It is understood then, devotion to El Ten. But let's understand that football makes us happy . Because then we compare ourselves to Germany, Sweden, Canada and all the fucking countries in the first world. And we want to unlock a shot in our most intimate parts.But we don't do anything, not to get to that club, but to come back. Because the saddest thing is that we were and well up in the first world. And look how crazy: back then, back in 1930, put him on, we were also power in football. I mean, you can have both. Living in both worlds. The football thing is good. It is a form of joy and even happiness and that is always magnificent in life. It's sport; it's healthy. Every four years we deceive ourselves that we are all united. We are excited; which is also a wonderful feeling. And then we fall like a seventh-floor piano if we don't win, because that's all we have. Then it weighs a billion kilos. We're frustrated. We want to kick everyone out. We got the bad stuff out of the inside. I don't know if he's that good.
Maradona was a teenager all his life. Obviously this is not a value judgment, much less. I think people who knew him well enough to make an appraisal of his life outside the court are actually counted with the fingers of one hand. So, clearly, you're not going to find it on this note either.But the league was noticeable rebelliousness. That must have helped him a lot to succeed, to get out of Fiorito. He saw the irresponsibility. Outside the court, clearly. He wanted to play ball. I'm not going to write about Maradona person. Because I don't think I knew him anything. I think they only really knew him that handful of people close. And because we don't have to judge without knowing the circumstances. Only there can one accept or reject. Condemn for oneself. But you saw that we condemn for others, we condemn and we want tooooodos to support us in conviction. Annihilate the convicted person. And it doesn't matter if we know clearly what happened. Reach with little.
It's just that we're as teenagers as D10S. That's why we loved him too. There is an Arab proverb that says something like, “ I had a camel, my son a Mercedes Benz and my grandson will have a camel.” I don't remember it exactly, but it's the spirit. And he talks about the one who builds fortune, who does not prepare his son. That is the one who enjoys it and squanders it. And the grandson who is poor again. Well, I got some bad news for you. We're the grandchildren. Our grandparents forged a rich country. Dad and Mom wasted it. Welcome to Venezuela.
As good teenagers, we're enlarged, screaming, exaggerated. We need to excel, but not the weapons to do it. And we don't know or we don't care. We can't see it because we're not humble or taught us to be.
And here if I have anything to say about Maradona. I deeply understand the origin from which it came out. The fame and fortune that came to him at once. Vultures disguised as friends. The unscrupulous ones next door. I understand that as a good teenager, he got caught up with fame . He thought he could fight everything.I understand everything. And I don't know if I'd done better. I don't say that. Surely, he did what he could. But, guys, don't screw me with the fact that society pushed him and drove him the wrong way. When he was ripped off, he fought her. And I don't think they put a revolver in the hundred to take the wrong steps.One is allowed to do.
I insist: I don't judge him. It was his life, not mine. But, just as the vast majority of the poor do not go out to steal, there are also many examples of poorly surrounded people who disunderstood themselves from those companies. I'm just saying that we don't blame the other for their evils or ours.
Because that's what we do. The fault is the Yankie empire. Or the capitalist world. Or a corrupt governor. And who voted for it? We have our shortcomings like everyone else. But, until we decide to take charge and get out, we're not going out. If we are not willing to improve, as the nonnos were, we're still in the mud for life.
Maradona left us something to imitate: rebelliousness against fate. I'm not talking about the stupid rebelliousness of sneak into a line, not respecting the law and stuff. Diego rebelled against what he was about. He didn't resign himself. Despite all his talent and youth overburdings, he always trained. And I'm sure that conscientiously. Before the 86 World Cup, Diego had lost himself in Wembley and against the English, obviously, a goal very similar to the best in history. The one with the stack, not the trap. Years later I heard him say that in Mexico he decided to avoid the English goalkeeper because his brother Lalo had told him that was his mistake in which he failed in Wembley. I think if there's something unobjectionable about Maradona, it's that his huge talent was improved with work. Dalí once said, “ Let inspiration find me working .” Let's understand that talent alone is not enough. That work on that talent is the most important thing.
Maradona must be one of the most controversial beings humanity has ever given . Beloved. Hated. Respected. Envied. Admired. I repeat: the obvious, what we can all talk about, is what he did inside the court. Because we saw that live by millions of privileged people. And, luckily, there's ample record of his career for those who didn't see him to learn.
For me, life is learning. And try to get better with that, of course. So right now I think what Maradona left us. That player who left a long time ago and has not been beaten (sorry, Messi). Like I said, I was rebellious against destiny. Work as a complement to talent. But also the commitment. To give it all. They hit him a lot and he wasn't protesting. He was standing and going on. What's more: he faced the one who had hit him and made him pass a paper. How did he pass “El loco” Gatti when he made him two goals, after the goalkeeper defined him as “a chubby”. I forgive him (and who am I to forgive him?) who was half a tribunero, with ampulous gestures for the swollen, begging God when he was not charged something. And he was a loyal guy. I don't remember that he intentionally hit anyone (except in that roadfield battle in Napoli). Or that he would have reacted inappropriately against another player. If you see it that way, the goal with your hand is crazy (it should have been called “The Devil's Hand”). Because it was a disloyalty. The bloody Creole vividness . And Maradona wasn't disloyal.
Maradona left us. A lot from inside the court. Much very important. However, I have an ugly feeling, which is to think that he went believing that he left us only joy. That is very good and that is very valuable. But because of his way of being, he left without knowing that he left us something much bigger. Something for those who still enter a court and for those who never did or will . The value of optimism, work, trust and rebellion.
I had a lot of pity to Diego. And in the end he ends up teaching us something that transcends him immensely and really bounds it.
Publication Date: 27/11/2020
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