Maradona: Rough Day Between the Handshakes
Thomas N’Kono, captain of Cameroon, strode to midfield to shake the hand of Diego Maradona, Argentina’s nominee as the greatest player in soccer, for the opening coin toss of the 14th World Cup here Friday.
This was the kickoff to 31 days of foot-to-foot combat between players from four continents--and to a game that won’t be forgotten in 30 more days, or possibly 30 more years, by the players or those who watched them play.
Maradona lost the toss, slapped N’Kono on the shoulder in friendship, then cupped his hand to give the 35-year-old African goalkeeper a soul shake before beginning Argentina’s bid to keep the $250,000, 14-karat gold cup that it won four years ago in Mexico City. It was the last time Maradona would get to use his hands all day.
As it turned out, he didn’t use his feet much, either.
To the satisfaction of many of 73,780 spectators whose foot stomping and flag waving helped christen Milan’s renovated Giuseppe Meazza Stadium, it was the rise and fall of Diego Maradona--and rise and fall and rise and fall--that made Cameroon’s 1-0 upset of Argentina such an entertaining sporting event to behold.
The game itself was a joy to anybody who appreciates a good underdog, but to these Milanese, it was doubly delightful in that Maradona got the worst of it. Some still remember him as a petulant 21-year-old--”Diego Primadonna,” they mocked him--whose argumentative behavior got him booted from a 1982 World Cup game.
Others resent his more recent efforts on behalf of rival neighbors from Naples, for whom Maradona played in the 1990 Italian soccer season, leading them to a championship.
Therefore, whenever Maradona had the ball Friday, they whistled loudly--which was booing, Italian style.
And, whenever Maradona got knocked off his feet, they approved loudly--which was early and often.
Twelve fouls against Maradona alone were called on Cameroon players. He got kicked harder than the ball. He got kicked in the shins, in the calves, in the sides, in places in between. He got kicked so repeatedly, it resembled the fight scenes from a Chuck Norris movie. The only thing missing was Italian dubbing.
“They didn’t hurt me,” Maradona insisted later, proudly.
He didn’t even bother mentioning the ingrown toenail that got stomped. Or the reddened shinbone that he attempted to show the referee as he limped off the field at halftime, right shoe removed. No, little Diego was big about that. So big that not only did he graciously accept defeat, but he even took some of the credit for improving sociological conditions in the World Cup’s host country.
Having been subjected to a predominantly white crowd’s start-to-finish support of an all-black opponent, Maradona said: “I participated in making Italy non-racist. All the stadium was for Cameroon. That was nice.”
No wonder President Carolos Menem of Argentina, on the eve of the Cup opener, presented Maradona a permanent passport proclaiming him “Argentina’s sporting ambassador,” saying that he was certain Maradona would represent faithfully a spirit too often missing in soccer--that of fair play.
Sure enough, Maradona never missed a chance Friday to pat an opponent on the back or head as he rose from the ground, occasionally still bent over in pain. Cameroon players went after Maradona with such relish that, by the time the game was over, the winners were playing two men short, twice having had players ejected.
At the end, to his everlasting credit, Maradona was right back where he began--shaking hands with N’Kono, the Cameroon goalie.
Four years ago, on his way to becoming a national folk hero by leading Argentina to soccer’s greatest prize, Maradona was similarly jostled and bumped by tailgaters from Italy and Uruguay, who figured he couldn’t score if he couldn’t stand.
Taunts come with the territory.
At the mere suggestion that Maradona was being roughed up in 1986, Italy’s Claudio Gentile, who had done much of the roughest roughing, said with a sneer that the sport “is not for ballerinas.”
Whatever grace Maradona possesses did him no good against Cameroon. He made no moves, mainly because he was given no room to move. Whether he was weakened at all by the 12 pounds he recently lost, after having puffed up beyond his playing weight, was unclear, but what stuck out most about Maradona was a telling statistic:
He did not take a shot. Not one, in 90 minutes.
Only the day before, Maradona had attempted to remind friends and foes alike of something.
“It is not just Maradona who is defending the title, but the entire squad. If Argentina plays well, Maradona also plays well.”
And if not?
Well, don’t cry for him, Argentina. He can get up by himself.
