Cry for me, Argentina

So I've been in Argentina now for nearly two years, and, mostly in the desire to write about stuff that's original, I think this is the first time I've written about big Diego. It seemed a bit obvious, really. 

 

But sometimes you just have face the wobbling-bellied drug-addled inevitability that is Maradona in your daily life. So when the national team loses a few games, accusations of in-fighting amongst the squad are rife, you need a calming influence, right? A wise 'un who can cool the hot headed youngsters down with somesage advice.

 

Well, that's what most countries would do. In England they'd find a died in the wool racist, with whispy blond hair; a man who would talk fluent football, refer to the days pre shin pads and keepers' gloves, and he would do nothing at all except weather a media storm long enough for the FA to do exactly that, and then employ another foreign manager to do the job properly. 

 

Here in Argentina, you weather a crisis by calling on a man who is probably the worst behaved sportsman in the world. He's shot at reporters, he's single handedly responsible for 4/5th of Latin American deforestation (cocaine plants and cow-burgers), got so many drug offenses that even the Chinese couldn't keep up (hence his presence throughout the Olympics... in the changing rooms of Argentine Olympians, noticably the women's hockey team)

 

Many people in the UK have asked, is it like Gazza coaching England? Well, yes, it is exactly like that. Except he wouldn't be famous for crying, cause everyone cries over football here. I'm crying right now.

It is different here. In the UK, you can only be one thing or the other. Either you are idolised or vilified, sometimes in the same week (Rooney, Flintoff, Beckham, Corry etc). But Maradona is yet another Argentine paradox; he exists in both contexts - villain and hero, God and fool - simultaneously. Rather like living here itself: it does your head in, but you find you love it. 

 

And the guy is everywhere: his TV Parkinson format (but not style) show doesn't run anymore, which is a shame cause who wouldn't want to see Fidel Castro interviewed by a footballer? Pretty much every department store replays golden Maradona moments; the tourist favourite 'Maradona lookalike' down in La Boca must be a millionaire by now; even the British Embassy function room, with commendable wit, is called the 'Hand Of God' room, sporting a massive photo of 'that goal' opposite the bar. And last week he was shown on the tele wildly celebrating a Boca's victory. This is the national team coach, let me remind you, who openly talks about how much he hates River, and could 'never wear a River shirt' (cause there aren't any big enough, is the usual reply). 

But, the people who know their footy say the problem with the national team is that they're the 11 biggest egos in Argentina, and none of them listen to the coach. The only guy in the country that they will listen to is big Diego, so they want to use Diego as the mouthpiece to communicate the plan. 

 

Obvious problem is the guy, clearly, cannot help himself... He'll walk into the room with the tactics explained and agreed before hand, get carried away with emotion, do a quick line of coke, be 'inspired' and then you'll see the keeper playing centre midfield second half... (I'll be extradited within one hour of sending this email!)   

 

First match Scotland! How do you fancy their chances? 

My bet: we lose 2-3. 

Keeper to score second half hat-trick. 

Headlines. 

Brave Scots Felled By Mara Magic.