We must say that there haven't been many articles that have captured our interest in the lead up to this tournament unless of course you're interested in Harry Ks groin. But here on the eve of the World Cup, Michael Cockerill pulls one out on a great who may just become an immortal by the end of this tournament.
MEMORIES of Maradona. November, 1993. Argentina's training ground in Buenos Aires. The national team is preparing for the return leg of the World Cup play-off against Australia.
The media pack is enormous, at least 500. Every player leaves before the man everyone wants to speak to. The media wait, and wait. Diego Armando is at the other end of the field, about 110 metres away. Finally, he goes behind the goal and takes off his boots. That doesn't take long because he never tied his laces while he trained. It's the signal.
There's an almighty sprint towards the greatest Argentine player of all time, and perhaps the greatest player of all time. Fat, sweaty cameramen lugging kilograms of equipment push and shove and elbow towards the prime position. Maradona has barely stood up, still not on the field of play, some 300 metres from his intending destination, the sanctuary of the dressing room. He is swamped by the first microphones and cameras.
He starts walking, painstakingly slowly. There's no room to move, barely any to breathe. But he deals with each and every question with surprising generosity. He is at the peak of his fame, although not his powers. Age, fast living, and the ruthless attentions of an endless stream of cynical defenders have taken their toll. But he's returned from retirement, one final gesture towards La Albiceleste, the team he adores, and the nation which adores him. To get past Australia and make sure Argentina qualify for the 1994 World Cup. The interest in his comeback is intense, even by the standards of his fishbowl existence.
It takes Maradona 80 minutes, and a thousand interviews, to traverse the 300 metres to the dressing room. A few days later he emerges from the tunnel at the Estadio Monumental, the last player to take the field. The announcer draws breath, and exhales his well-practised punchline. ''Numero diez, Diego Armando Maaaaraaaadonnnaaaa.'' Eighty thousand fans deafen the night air. A snowstorm of confetti blankets the pitch. Maradona has answered the call of his country. He is at the zenith of his popularity. There isn't a woman in Buenos Aires who wouldn't want to bed him, and a man who wouldn't want to be him.
Of course, we all know what happened next. Maradona ended up going to USA '94 but left in disgrace after testing positive for perfor-mance-enhancing drugs. His credibility and popularity have been chipped away, bit by painful bit, ever since.
But Maradona is nothing if not a survivor. It's what he learnt in the barrios where he grew up. So he's back at the World Cup with his national team, 16 years later. This time as a coach. A World Cup winner in 1986, hoping to win the World Cup as the boss in 2010. But there the similarity ends.
Argentina are in South Africa with as much talent as anyone. They could have had even more but Maradona hasn't brought Javier Zanetti, Juan Roman Riquelme and Esteban Cambiasso - players who would walk into any other national team. Even without them, Argentina have the gifts to win the World Cup. Providing Maradona doesn't implode.
The qualifying campaign was fraught, poisonous and exhausting. When the objective was finally achieved in the final match in Montevideo, an ecstatic Maradona belly-flopped in the mud, then cleaned himself up to enter the press conference, where he promptly insulted the assembled journalists: ''You can suck it, and keep sucking it.''
It's been a soap opera ever since. Argentina arrived in South Africa but with their coach still warring with the press. Every day at the training ground at the University of Pretoria, the media pack presses against the gate. Every day they rush in for limited contact with the players. But not the coach. In the middle of the field, the portly Maradona limps around during the drills. When he glances towards at the press gallery, there is no attempt to disguise his contempt. Maradona says he'll run naked through the streets of Buenos Aires if Argentina win the World Cup. Waddle, more like it. Whatever the case, he's determined to have the last laugh. With Lionel Messi at his disposal, don't bet against it.
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