The most human of the Gods
Why do we worship some obviously flawed people? Sometimes we go as far as making them into gods.
It all started when a seemly ordinary boy was born in the shantytown on the outskirts of Buenos Aires. He was small and dark-haired with intelligent and persuasive eyes. Destiny presented itself to him on his third birthday. He was given a football. It was love at first sight, so powerful and intense that it took the boy around the world and made him famous and known to everybody. Made him a god. It was the purest relationship the boy will ever have.
The boy became a phenomenon but stayed a boy. By the age of 15, his name was known to every household in Argentina. He played with his favorite toy, the ball, in front of thousands. His goals, dribbling, and victories brought them many moments of joy. They showered him with attention and praise, forecasting a great future. The boy left the favela and took his family with him. He put on an earring and fur coat. But he stayed a boy.
The big, important, and serious men noticed the boy and decided to take him to Europe to play in a big, important, and serious club. So the boy moved from Argentina to Spain. They wanted him to be a man, but the boy was still a boy. He was emotional, whimsy, and rebellious. The club was well structured, rich, and aristocratic. The relationship was not fruitful, and the breakup was dramatic. The Spanish king himself witnessed the unruly spectacle of an all-out fight on the pitch. The boy was in the middle of the brawl. He did not like Spain, and Spain did not like him. So he left.
There was a place in the poor Italian south looking for redemption through sweet and vengeful victory over the ones that considered it small and backward—Naples, once affluent, rich, and influential. Neapolitans, now looked down upon by rich Italian cities, believed that a local football club, Napoli, whose title display was empty, can bring the pride of the old days back. They wanted the boy to lead their beloved Napoli towards the new glory. The boy liked Naples, related to its passion and its fight. It was something close to his heart. That passion made them infuriating, spontaneous, and irresistible. It is here, under the shadow of mighty Vesuvius, where the boy would become a god.
His deification started not in the Italian south but in the land of famous revolutionaries Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata. Mexico hosted the biggest football show in the world. All the best players and the best teams were there, and a few considered Argentina to be a part of that group. In each game that he played, he played better than the previous one. Thousands of spectators who came to watch the boy and his team play against England were unaware that they were witnessing the most famous football match of all time. Argentina was humiliated in a war against England a few years earlier. This was a chance to get even. The boy scored two. First in heavy violation of the rules, with his hand. Second in a full stroke of artistic brilliance by dribbling six of England’s eleven. The first was nicknamed La Mano de Dios ( the hand of God), the second was declared to be the’ ’ Goal of the century’’ by football fans. It is still being said that no player ever dominated any world cup, before or after, as he dominated that one. In just a few short days, Argentina got its revenge by defeating England and won the world championship by beating Germany. And the boy made it happen.
His exaltation culminated on the Sao Paolo stadium in Naples. For years Napolitanes were being scorned and shunned by the rich clubs of the Italian north. But no more. Napoli finished the national competition first. The trophy of Seria A, the toughest league competition globally, moved into the display of an overlooked and demeaned club. Happiness and joy moved into every heart in the city as euphoria filled its streets. And the boy made it happen. The crowds, armies of fans worldwide found a new saint, no he was more than that. He was a god. But he stayed a boy.
But for the boy, who was now a god, the journey from a human to a myth came at a terrible cost. Big and serious men in Spain asked him to be a man. Now millions expected him to be a god. And there was no more peace for the boy because everybody wanted a piece of god. He was followed by thousands where ever he would go. And soon, he found himself surrounded by man envious and deceitful. They did not care about him but to exploit him. He cracked and crumbled under the pressure of expectations and false friendships. Drugs for the aching soul and steroids for the aching body. That became his routine. He was hurting, and in turn, he started to hurt. Hurt everybody. His wife, his daughters, his son that he did not recognize as his own, himself. He became arrogant, divisive, and vane. He became what he despised. Soon the whole world found out about his vile ways. The terrible punishment ascended upon him. He was no longer allowed to play with his favorite toy, the ball. Ashamed and broken, abandoned by his false friends, the boy wandered the world for many years after, not finding peace. No longer a footballer, but still a god.
It came as no surprise, but still as a great shock when Diego Armando Maradona died two weeks ago, taking the boy with him. An outpour of grief and sadness swept across the planet, especially that football part of it. He is the most beloved and worshiped player of all time. No other player transcended the game and entered every pore of the public as much as him. The motif that kept repeating itself in numerous eulogies that arrived from all over the world described Maradona as a boy that never grew up.
The same way that the boy was slaloming and dribbling, playing football with his friends in the vacant lots of Villa Fiorito, Diego slalomed through life. He was a champion; he was an artist; he was a genius; he fought for the poor and downtrodden. He was a drug addict, a criminal, and an abuser. His professional career in effect ended when he tested positive for illegal steroids on the World Cup of 1994. He was suspended from the tournament, and Argentina was easily relegated. After the official end of his career, he did not settle but rather continued with scandalous behavior until practically the end of his life. Yet he has something approaching a cult, not only in Argentina or Naples but worldwide.
Diego Maradona was a man of his time. The sport was a reflection of hopes, dreams, and frustrations of a generation that was born after WW2, and as such, it was charged with far more fervor than it is today. Those were the last years when a man could be made a god, and the culture of the southern Mediterranean probably the last framework in which that was possible. He was exploited, depersonalized, objectified, and stripped of a right to control his own life — a victim, but also a victimizer. For only through temptations, trials, and torments, through suffering and atonement, one becomes what he became.
There will surely never be another like him because the thorny road he walked to his ascension, luckily, no longer exists.
There is a certain commonality between the people that reached a godlike status, whether in arts, sports, or politics, for that matter. Most of them possess a vast spectrum of amplified virtues and flaws. If you present human traits as an endless number of volume control knobs, most of Diego’s would-be turned close to maximum. He excelled, which is something that we all want, and he was flawed, which is something that we all are. Charismatic to the point of being irresistible, he was an extreme version of every human being, and in antiquity, gods were precisely that.
Like Zeus, who defeated the Titians, most Human Gods are worshiped because of the power of their genius and the enormity of their achievement. And like Zeus, who did nothing but rape and murder after his victory, they are forgiven for human errors, sins, and crimes.
Diego would be forgiven for every incident and excess. And he was loved because of that forgiveness. There was a perpetual circle of love and forgiveness that he enjoyed in the relationship with his fans, which probably depicts every person’s desire for forgiveness. Diego Maradona was a complete human in a way that very few people are, and for him, that was a burden too hard to carry.
References:
https://www.nytimes.com/2020/11/25/sports/soccer/diego-maradona.html
Maradona: The Hand of God ( Burns,2010)
