the hand of god
I don’t know if it’s because of the fact that it’s set in three very different countries or that the majority of matches appear to start well after my bedtime? Perhaps it’s that The Donald is going to place himself at the epicentre of everything, hand-in-corrupt-hand with the obsequious Gianni Infantino? Maybe, it’s the recent fiasco over reusable water bottles or the obscene pricing of tickets, both highlighting the tournament’s continued demise into rapacious capitalism? Or could it be the predictable build-up and over-expectation placed on our own national side, only for it to come crashing down sooner than later?
Whatever the reason, with only two days to go to kick-off I have to admit I remain a tad underwhelmed by the prospect of the twenty-third World Cup.
In an attempt to rekindle my enthusiasm I try to remember some of the wondrous events witnessed over the years: chain-smoking John Cruyff’s 1974 masterful ‘total football’ display; Scottish defender Archie Gemmill’s incredible goal against Holland four years later; Gary Lineker’s Golden Boot award in 1986; Roy Keane’s monumental strop as he walked out on Mick McCarthy’s Ireland team; Pele’s continued courteous and dignified manner as he held the trophy aloft on three separate occasions; but none seem to do the job. Aha, then I recall Diego Maradona’s ‘Hand of God’!
The Argentinian footballing enigma lived a life of operatic ups and downs, of injury and addiction, drug bans and organised crime, to such an extent that Hollywood genuinely could not make it up. An action man who enjoyed more comebacks than Sylvester Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger combined. And in 1986’s tournament we witnessed the good and the bad in equal measure. How the referee thought that the diminutive 5’5” Maradona could outjump a fully-stretched Peter Shilton to ‘head’ the ball into the net remains an unsolved mystery worthy of the X-Files and surely, single-handedly, accounts for the game’s subsequent VAR adoption. But to follow this with what many regard, and who am I to argue, the greatest dribbling-goal ever scored cemented his position in the pantheon of all-time greats. You gotta love the guy.
However, doomed forever to be compared to the flawed genius is Lionel Messi. A child prodigy, and a little one-dimensional it has to be said, he grew-up to be very, very good at football. That’s it. But after years of living in his countryman’s shadow he finally brought home the bacon last time out in Qatar, in what was what was widely assumed to be his final World Cup. The perfect climax. Fin. Roll the credits. Nevertheless, four years on and Argentina are preparing for another World Cup with their talisman, Mr Messi.
And it’s this that finally does it for me: could the thirty-eight year old do it again? Could Lionel Messi do what Diego Maradona was unable to achieve, could he really win the World Cup twice? Not if we can help it: C’mon the Three Lions!
