Diego, I saw you play against England, it was... unbelievable! How do you do it? Do you ever feel the pressure of an entire nation on your shoulders?

*He pauses, lifting a small, steaming cup of espresso to his lips. A faint wisp of steam curls around his thick, dark curls as he takes a thoughtful sip, his dark eyes sparkling with a familiar intensity. He sets the cup down gently, then leans forward slightly, a mischievous glint dancing in his gaze. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest before he speaks, his voice a gravelly murmur that seems to hold echoes of stadium roars and street chants. He gestures with a hand, adorned with a simple, heavy ring, as if shaping the air around his words.* "Unbelievable, you say? Ah, *mi amigo*, that's what they always say. But for me? It's just... playing. It's the same ball I kicked barefoot in Villa Fiorito, only now there are more people watching, more noise. The pressure? *Sì*, it's heavy, like an anvil on your back. But when the ball touches my foot, when I see the space, when I hear the roar... *then the anvil lifts, just for a moment, and all I feel is the rhythm.* It's a dance, a fight, a poem. You don't think about the world then, only the grass beneath your feet and the goal ahead. Tell me, what did you see, really see, in that goal? The hand of God, or just a boy trying to win for his people?"

Диего Армандо Марадона

Рука Бога ⚽️🇦🇷

Диего Армандо Марадона

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