EL DIEGO IN THE DESERT | translated from Danish to English
After a five-year break, Diego Maradona is back as manager in the unknown club Fujairah FC in the United Arab Emirates' second division. Here, the legendary Argentinian has become a tool for a sheikh with grand ambitions, while El Diego himself tries to find his place in life and decide what it means to be Diego Maradona these days.
Diego Maradona is grumpy. He is the last one to step into the floodlights, and he looks around in a gruff manner. The players have already warmed up and begun their evening training little by little, but their manager shows little interest and leave it all up to his assistants. Could this be due to bother from the dry heat of some 40 degrees Celsius this Arabian evening? Could he be off-colour because of the long drive from Dubai, an hour and a half through the desert and across the Ħajar mountains? Does his 56–years old body hurt when it moves towards the football field with difficulty and legs so stiff that you almost fear they will collapse underneath him? This is a body that is worn down and marked by far too hard a life.
But no: This is about one of the players who has been getting on Maradona's nerves:
"We have only been back here for a few days, and already he has started doing tricks and play with his heal and his toes again. Like this," says Diego and twitches his feet. "You don’t do that around me! No matter who you are!"
He speaks to his assistant, his former team mate Luis Islas who sat on the bench back in 1986, when Maradona almost singlehandedly took Argentina to victory in the finals at the world championship. Eight years later, Islas was the primary goalkeeper, as Maradona's career on the national team ended dramatically with a sentence in the US for doping. Now, Islas listens quietly and patiently to his boss, and only when he senses that Maradona has spoken to his heart content does he take out a tablet and shows his superior and starts explaining the plans for tonight's training session. Maradona just shrugs and walks away. He goes around saluting each and everyone: The other Argentinians from his team get kisses on the cheeks while the local Emiratians get a hug. They all look awestruck.
And it is indeed hard to fathom that he is really right here: the legend Diego Maradona, the perchance greatest football player ever, here at Fujairah Stadium in the eastern part of the United Arab Emirates far away from the famous football scenes as newly appointed technical director for a club in the second division in the country that he has called home since 2011. This is the latest unexpected turn in the remarkable and dramatic story of Diego Armando Maradona.
No–one says no to Diego
A few hours earlier, Luis Islas had turned up in the chilled lobby at the City Tower Hotel on the outskirts of Fujayra(t) where the motorway from Dubai meets the seaboard town. The former keeper has resided here ever since he came to the Emirates this summer, unlike Diego Maradona who continues to live in Dubai. "The heat is incredible; we can either train early in the morning or late in the evening. The local players are used to it, but it sure is special," says Luis Islas after greeting the journalist.
A few days earlier, Islas, Maradona, and the rest of the team returned from a three week training camp in the Netherlands, and now it is time to refine the last details here in the heat of Arabia before the season starts and the logical goal being to be promoted to the first division.
Luis Islas has not worked with Diego Maradona before, but they have known each other for over three decades.
"We have often talked about the possibility of working together, but whenever he had a job as manager, I was employed elsewhere. This is the first time it has been possible to make it come true; and of course I said yes to Diego. I would never ever say no to Diego. Never!"
If loyalty was a criterium when Maradona picked his assistant, then he has certainly picked the right man for the job. Luis Islas has only good things to say about his boss:
"Diego is a formidable person. As a player, he was the best: el número uno. As a team–mate, he was flawless, and as a person he has very strong views on friendship. Diego is a true friend."
Luis Islas did not even know of Fujayra(t)'s existence, untill his friend Diego was presented as the club's new technical director back in May. The appointment came as a surprise to most people, seeing that a full five years had passed since Maradona's latest manager job in al–Wasl in Dubai ended with his marching orders after a chaotic and very disappointing season. And as the years had passed by, and Maradona spent them as sports embassador for the Dubai Emirate, most people were beginning to come to terms with the fact that we had probably heard the last in the story of Maradona, the football coach.
That story did not live up to the story of Maradona, the football player; but it certainly was not dull. After two short periods in a training duo together with his former team mate Carlos Fren in a few Argentinian clubs in the nineties, in 2008 he was hired as coach of his home country's national team at a time of crisis. During his first year of national coach, Maradona went through 70 different players, and Argentina lost 6—1 to Bolivia but scraped through to the World Cup. Maradona dedicated the ticket to the World Cup to the Argentinian people but raged against the media that he believed treated him like garbage.
The finals in South Africa was a bit of a mixed experience for Maradona. Argentina played some good matches during the finals but was humiliated by Germany in the quarter final. Maradona's stormy time as national coach came to an end, and seven years after training Lionel Messi he is now coaching a mediocre team in the Emirates.
"Diego has a passion for football. It is a huge responsibility but he loves it," says Luis Islas who acted as backup keeper at the World Cup in Mexico at the early age of 20. According to Jonathan Wilson's grand ouvre Angels With Dirty Faces about Argentinian football, Islas and Maradona were at the epicentre of a dramatical episode in the Argentinian camp. Legend has it that the strict coach Carlos Bilardo had found out that one of the players had been out late, which was against the rules. Bilard knew that Islas was the guilty party but insisted that the sinner turn himself in in front of his team mates, and that he be sent home. Islas, however, kept quiet, Bilardo became ever more infuriated, and finally Maradona —who was innocent— took the blame. The super star was not punished, of course, nor was Islas.
Eight years later, the keeper played in all four matches when Argentina was kicked out of the finals in the US during the Round of 16 after testing positive for doping.
"I don't reckon there will ever be anyone like Diego. He was number one because of everything he gave of himself on the field. He won the matches for us, for instance during the quarter finals against England in 1986 which were tough and equal, and then all of a sudden Diego did something magical. There are also good players today, but Diego is different; he is in a league of his own."
I take leave of Luis Islas and tell him I will be back for the training in the evening. I ask if I could perchance talk to Maradona afterwards.
"Let's see. You never know with Diego."
The time Diego almost died
Unpredictability and drama have characterized Diego Maradona's entire life. He inherited a heart condition from his father, yet started doing cocaine as early as the eighties. In the years following his active career, he was in mortal dange. In 2000, he collapsed during a holiday in Punta del Este in Uruguay, and the local police report documented an extensive use of cocaine.
Maradona got over it and rehabilitated on Cuba as Fidel Castro's guest. Castro and Che Guevara were always amongst Maradona's personal heroes; an important part of his identity is his poor background and opposition to the elite.
"I am the voice of those who have no voice," he declares in El Diego: The Autobiography of the World's Greatest Footballer that sold 125,000 copies during the first week after it was published in Spanish in Argentina in 2000.
It is, however, hard to discern any clear–cut ideology; an array of politicians with varying beliefs have connected Maradona to their cause. He was a natural part of Latin America's nationalist current in the noughts, and in 2005 he stood side by side with Venezuela's then President Hugo Chávez during an anti–US protest in Mar del Plata. At the time, Maradona was in the midst of one of his life's many comebacks. In 2004, he had been hospitalized again and had a stomach operation the year after.
Subsequently, his health improved so much that he was able to host his own talkshow on Argentinian TV: "La Noche del Diez", number 10's night. On this show, Maradona admitted for the first time ever what everybody knew: that he did indeed use his hand when he scored against England during the World Cup quarter final in 1986. An impressive battery of celebrities visited "La Noche del Diez", but the host was the undisputed protagonist no matter if the guest was Pelé or Fidel Castro. El Diego sang, danced, joked, juggle and talked about himself and his life and hugged his guests.
"I almost died at one point," he told Pelé when the Brasilian was his guest in the programme. "Only my daughters' love saved me."
A particularly memorable issue of the programme was the day Maradona interviewed himself about his drug abuse. One Diego asked the other when he had last done drugs. The answer was it had been a year and a half ago. But he was still a troubled man who mostly stayed at home and passed the time watching as much football on television as possible.
And Maradona got himself into trouble anew: In 2007, he was hospitalized again and had to go to rehab for alcohol abuse. And in 2015, after moving to Dubai, he had to undergo yet another stomach operation.
The sheikh's big dreams
On this background, it is joyful tidings that he is still amongst us and stands here on the stadium in Fujayra(t). He gathers his players on the field and talks to them in Spanish:
"We must continue with the same attitude and go on doing a good job," says Diego Maradona, and his words are translated into Arabic by the interpreter Muham·mad al–Naq·qar who is at his side at all times.
Luis Islas divides the players into two teams. They start playing on the large field on both goals. Two players on each team are situated in the penalty area at all times, and no other players are allowed to enter it. Diego Maradona comes to life as the game starts going. He strolls around on the middle of the field holding a ball and with a whistle hanging around his neck.
"That's it! Come on! Pass it! Good!"
Diego points and yells, and next to him the interpreter Muham·mad does the same; not only does he imitate Diego's words, he also copies his body language in an almost comical manner. The players' level is none too high, but by now Maradona has become so lively that his deep voice drowns out the prayer calls from the minarets of Fujairah.
On the grand stand, a young man is watching. His name is 3abd Al–lāh and he worked for several years for Fujairah FC and is responsible for the contact to the media, among other things. He hardly believed his own eyes when he saw the club's new manager for the first time:
"It's like a dream. I lack words to describe what it is like to suddenly stand in front of him and talk to him and get hugged by him. He is a formidable person. He is not just our manager; he is our friend," says 3abd Al–lāh.
"When we were in the Netherlands, people from the whole world came, and he took his time with everybody every day. He posed for photos with everyone. Shuf," he says and shows me an enormous file on his computer with photos of Diego Maradona posing with children and grown–ups. El Diego smiles on most of the pictures.
3abdul·lāh has great expectations to the potential that Maradona's presence has for this club and the town. Fujayra(t) is the capital in the emirate of the same name; one of seven that make up the United Arab Emirates. The place has grown a lot since the middle of the nineties; the number of inhabitants has more than doubled so that more than 215.000 people live here. It is still a town, however, that is overshadowed by Dubai and Abu Dhabi, and the Fujayra(t) emirate is traditionally amongst the backward parts of the country.
They try to change that now. New shopping malls have come into existence, although not to an extent that compares to Dubai beyond the mountains. On the other hand, Fujayra(t) is located strategically important next to the Gulf of Oman, and this means that the Fujairah Oil Terminal grows ever bigger and is used as a staging–post by foreign companies. Pipelines lead the oil across the country from Abu Dhabi to Fujayra(t) so as to avoid the cumbersome sea journey through the Hormuz Strait between the Emirates and Iran.
The town's new mosque is the second biggest in the country, but there is still a long way to making Fujayra(t) famous. This is the idea behind hiring Diego Maradona as socalled technical director in the club that fell out of first division in 2015. Fujairah FC is owned by the ruling family in the emirate, and now Shaykh Ħamad bin Muham·mad ash–Sharqī and his son, the crown prince of Fujayra(t), want to use the football club to promote the town and the emirate.
How much Maradona is paid for his efforts is unknown, but it has been commented on that the man who has spent his life acting as the man of the people and backing Fidel Castro and Che Guevara is now earning oil money in the Middle East. When in August Maradona went so far as to express his support for Nicolás Maduro —Venezuela's controversial president during the current depression— and declared himself "chavista hasta la muerte", it became too much for some. Among them was José Luis Chilavert, Paraguay's former national team keeper:
"Maradona is burnt out, and it is just typical that he supports the murderers of the Venezuelan people. He speaks up against imperialism while living in Dubai himself," tweeted Chilavert.
Fidel Castro is dead, and the Latin American nationalism is tired and drained of yesteryear's strength, back in the noughts when Maradona stood side by side with Hugo Chávez, paying tribute to the socalled Bolivarian revolution and the 21st Century socialism. The question is where that leaves the man Diego Maradona: Does he still have a role to play, or has he become a parody of his former self? Is he now someone who is no longer relevant neither for football nor for politics and merely lives through his past and the idolatry to which he is still treated?
God's hand in Fujayra(t)
So far here in Fujayra(t), there is no sign that the world-famous Diego is in town. There is no sign of him in the very warm streets; in the suq, dates, spices, fruits and meat is for sale, the fish–mongers sit in a circle cleaning and filleting their catch on chopping blocks formed like tree stumps, and tailors are selling the traditional kandūra(h) costumes; but no–one is selling Fujairah football T-shirts. Likewise, in the street in front of the stadium where the entrance is squeezed in between an electronics store, a tile store, a real estate agent and a bakery, all is quiet before the legend's arrival for the evening training. And this is so although people are welcome to access, according to 3abd Al–lāh.
"We closed the training to the public on the first day because we knew that far too many would turn up otherwise. Since then, it has been open to the public but people still think it is closed. That is why hardly no–one shows up," he says and assures the journalist that soon enough, there will be a much more visible fandom culture in the city.
"We are having new player T–shirts made, and soon, merchandise will arrive from China. We will be opening a fan shop here in Fujayra(t); we have not had one before. We will also open one in Dubai," he explains. "And we will renew the stadium when we rise to first division."
Not if. When.
I ask 3abd Al–lāh if it does not pose a problem that Maradona still lives in his house in Dubai and has failed to move to Fujayra(t).
"We are building him a house; it will be ready in a few days, and then he will move here," affirms 3abd Al–lāh.
When I ask 3abd Al–lāh if I can talk to Maradona after the training, he hesitates. He does not look like someone very happy to ask him.
Down on the field, the training is just about over. Diego Maradona has gathered the players and is in a much better mood than he was upon arrival. He claps his hands:
"Very nice work today," he says, and his interpreter translates it.
Some of the players starts training swinging crosses into the box, and Diego plays along and places himself in the penalty area. The players are clearly trying to hit their manager, and sometimes they manage to. "Última,"yells Diego. Last ball, but it is way off, so they try one more anyway. This time, the cross is better but still a tad too high for the player in the area who jumps up and hits the ball into the goal with his hand. Diego blissfully claps his hands.
The players go out to change, and Diego Maradona strolls around handing out hugs and laughing. With help from his interpreter, he tells a story to one of the locals who does not seem to understand him but laughs along anyway. It is something to do with some money from the Netherlands that have arrived now.
Luis Islas walks over to Diego, talks to him a bit and points over at the journalist. Diego nods, and a moment later 3abd Al–lāh comes over to me:
"Count yourself lucky; you are the first journalist that he has accepted to talk to since his arrival," he says. But first, Diego sits down on a plastic crate, and Luis Islas and the other Argentinians from his staff gather and sit in the grass before him. Diego does most of the talking, while the others listen and laugh whenever it is expected. It drags out. Diego has many stories to tell. I imagine that this is what it looked like back in 1986 when El Diego carried the Argentinian national team to World Cup gold in Mexico.
Invitation to a lap of honour
Finally, he gets up, and instanly everybody else does the same as if all they were waiting for was permission to be dismissed. No–one leaves before the boss. Maradona comes over and says hello to me, standing in a formal manner with his hands behind his back. The Maradona who was telling tall tales to his entourage a moment ago has been transmogrified.
I ask him what he has found in the Emirates, and what time has done to him as a person.
"I haven't changed as a person. But here, I have met good people who have treated me very well. I have enjoyed the years with my family and worked for the Emirate and as a sports ambassador. I am happy. Now I was presented with the opportunity to work with Fujairah FC, and I take it very seriously," he says.
I try in vain to catch his gaze, but he avoids eye contact, looking to the side or down on the ground. His eyes are big and brown, the furrows on his forehead deep.
"This has shown me that there are still good people in this world;" he says, "people with whom you can work in an honest manner without corruption and without robbing anyone." He looks up now and turns the conversation to the injustices in football:
"I get along just fine with Gianni Infantino, as I do with Marco van Basten and with Boban. I am in contact with them in order to find solutions for FIFA so that people may watch football instead of corruption," he says with reference to some of international football's current decision–makers and then goes on to talk about the villains of yesteryear:
"They have left us with a very big hole to fill. People in FIFA used to believe that the money from football was for them personally and not for football. Coca–Cola would write a cheque to Blatter, and Blatter would cash it in and put the money into his own bank account. The same did Grondona, as did Villar; they all did! The robbed money from football. These types should not even be allowed into a football game, for they robbed from football, they robbed from the people who paid for their tickets. This is why Infantino has huge problems today; he needs to tidy up their mess. It's a catastrophe."
Diego Maradona has perked up now and is almost agitated. As he talks on, he pokes me in the chest:
"It might happen again; it has not been solved. If I say 'so, you have robbed me, alright, you go to prison. But the money you stole from me, you have already passed on to your son or your sister or your wife, to whomever. That money needs to be returned. The money must be returned!" he says angrily. "But I am very happy here," he asserts and laughs loudly all of a sudden. "I'll invite you to come see the lap of honour when we get promoted to first division."
We have only spoken for a few minutes, and during that time he has changed character and mood several times: from listless to agitated to buoyant. El Diego has many faces.
We start walking towards the players' tunnel. The drive to Dubai awaits. I have to ask him about the last goal during that evening's training, the hand–made one.
It rather looked like a tribute to you?
"To me? Hah—hah!"
"Was the goal valid?"
"Qué va. It wasn’t valid seeing as now there are video referees. Me however they did not see!" says Diego Maradona with a smile, bids me farewell and takes his girl–friend’s hand. The 56–year–old Maradona and the 27-year-old Rocío Oliva walk down the hall hand in hand. Another day of work is over for Fujairah FC’s new coach.
