There is something perverse about a life that fulfils all your dreams and Diego suffered the generosity of fate like no other. The terrible journey from human to myth divided him in two
Those who screw up their faces sneering as they contemplate the latest incarnation of Maradona, the one who had difficulties walking, struggled to talk, embraced Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro and did whatever he felt liked, would be better off abandoning this farewell which embraces the genius and absolves the man. They will not find a single reproach here because the footballer had no flaws and the man was a victim. Of whom? Of me or of you, for example, who at some moment must have eulogised him pitilessly.
There is something perverse about a life that fulfils all your dreams and Diego suffered the generosity of fate like no other. The terrible, terminal journey from human to myth divided him in two: on the one side, Diego; on the other, Maradona. Fernando Signorini, his fitness coach, a sensitive, intelligent man who may well have known him better than anyone else, used to say: “I would follow Diego to the end of the earth; I wouldn’t follow Maradona to the corner.”
