My first sports book, The Biography of Diego Maradona, was given to me in 1990 by my elementary school classmate Lao Zhao.
Lao Zhao is not only my classmate, but also a teammate of our football team. He's a striker, I'm a goalkeeper. I love the German team, I like that rigorous, precise style of play. I like goalkeeper Schumacher and midfielder Mateus. Old Zhao was tall and later grew to 1 meter 86. When young people began to dye their hair everywhere on the street, he dyed a blonde hair. He plays much like the Golden Bomber Klinsmann, but he loves Maradona the most. When he mentioned Maradona's expression, he grinned and sighed: Do you know how powerful Maradona is? The word "many" drags on for a long time.
I started watching the World Cup in 1986. I was 9 years old. At that time, not every World Cup was broadcast live on CCTV. I haven't seen the live broadcast of Argentina versus England. My deepest impression was the goal maradona scored against Belgium in the semi-finals. Everyone around him was wearing red jerseys, and so many people couldn't grab his ball. In the final, Argentina vs. Germany, everyone in Germany desperately caught him, shoveled him, kicked him, or let him pass two assists, of which the midfielder pulled the ball, and the winning goal that went straight to Brutzaga was the most famous. After Argentina won, I saw the rain in the stands on black-and-white television, the singing and dancing and revelry of Maradona and his teammates, like a sudden opening of a new world. At that time, China was so restrained and quiet. Everyone wears a blue uniform, and occasionally some people wear a rattling cloth, which is very fashionable. People judge a person's rank and culture according to the number of pens in the pocket of the uniform. I can never imagine that sports are like that, you can scream like that, cry like that. That's when we started playing.
But I still like the German team. 1990 came. That year's German squad was the most prosperous. To this day, I can still tell you everyone who started the 1990 World Cup in Germany. I told Lao Zhao: The German team will definitely be the champion this year. He disagreed. He still believes that argentina, which is obviously old, and Maradona, whose physical condition is not comparable to that of 4 years ago.
In the first game, Argentina lost to Cameroon, injured the main goalkeeper Pompido, and replaced it with a young man named Goyetia. Argentina can't run like it did 4 years ago, when they were like horses on the prairie. Argentina in 1990, with heavy footsteps, switched to a defensive counterattack. With 9 men defending, Maradona hovered in midfield with a sharp knife in front of him, Caniggia, son of the wind. I said, "That's it? Old Zhao said, "Just this, you have a good look, don't believe Maradona." ”
30 years later, the impression that remains in my mind about the 1990 World Cup is still all Maradona. In the quarter-finals, his foot crossed obliquely, and Caniggia single-handedly blasted Tafarel's ten-finger mark. There's a classic picture of a Brazilian girl in a yellow jersey in the stands, biting her nails and crying, and that's the game. In the semi-finals, Maradona picked it into the penalty area and Caniggia's header was flicked back, breaking the record of Italian goalkeeper Zenggana for not conceding a goal in the cup. In the final final, Argentina played germany again. Five minutes before the end of the game, Worrell fell in the penalty area and the referee gave him a penalty. Bremer scored the point. Maradona wept like a child on the podium and refused to shake hands with FIFA President Avillange. This is the time that Maradona has struck me again. Who is Avyrange? In our words, it's the leader. Big leader. The leader shakes hands with you, you don't shake him?
Wow, that's Maradona. I told Old Zhao that Maradona was too good. I don't know if I'm talking about his genius, technique or character. Old Zhao was indignant: If it weren't for the referee, would your German team win?
Most of the stories I know about Maradona are in the books that Old Zhao gave me—still on the shelves of my house, the pages completely yellowed, and listening to what Old Zhao told me. The old Zhao family is extremely well-off, does not love to study, and he cannot memorize the history of the Chinese revolution, but he can clearly tell the story of the Argentine and English Falklands War. He wrote an essay saying that Maradona is the god of Argentina, because the Argentine people live in hardship and the waters are fierce, Maradona makes the Argentine people proud, wins glory for the country, overthrows the great powers in the World Cup, revitalizes Argentina, and the Argentine people have since stood up.
Old Zhao had never liked others like that again. After 20 years, sometimes we still watch the World Cup together, and some people say, who is who and how? Awesome? He waved his hand: far from Maradona.
After we graduated from elementary school, we did not go to the same middle school. But every summer, we still gathered the teammates of the original team to play the Beijing Hundred Teams Cup football match. We do not belong to any school, so we sign up for the social quota. Old Zhao is a natural convener, he can always run east and west, find everyone, train, race, eat, all of which are greeted by him. We played the 100 Team Cup every year until we graduated from high school at the age of 18. He went to school in the West Side in high school, and once asked me to sneak in and help them play in school. Later, I went to college and went my separate ways. But every year when the holidays come back, it is still old Zhao who convenes, sings, eats, catches up with the World Cup, and watches together. Old Zhao still said that: They are far worse than Maradona.
After graduation, I saw too few. In the years after I graduated, I traveled a lot in the United States. Old Zhao began to make funds, and then drove around and changed my car. Later, they all got married, and they gathered less and less. I had a business with lao Zhang and my other two little old people, and then there was a problem and the group broke up, so it was even more difficult to get together.
One year, our family flew to Sanya. On the plane, there was a pair of elderly people next to them, with a little boy who was about three years old. When the old man saw me, he came over and asked: Are you Yang Yi? I thought the old man was a fan and said I was. The old man said, "You don't remember me, do you?" I am Lao Zhao's father-in-law, and we met at the wedding. You see, it was his son. I looked closely, and the eyebrows were indeed the way he looked when he was a teenager.
Then, in June this year, one afternoon, I was at home, and suddenly I received Lao Zhang's WeChat: Lao Zhao is gone. The night before, there was a cerebral hemorrhage. It was too late to get it to the hospital.
Lao Zeng's daughter-in-law told my daughter-in-law that after work that day, in the basement, she found Lao Zeng's car parked there, and Lao Zeng sat alone in the car crying.
Memorial service, farewell to the body. Because of the epidemic, only 30 people were restricted. Relatives in the family can't all go in. I told them, "Let's not go." Old Zhao's parents, white-haired people send black-haired people. I still remember playing football when I was a kid and his parents came to cheer us on. If you see a few of our brothers, your heart will be even more uncomfortable.
Back yesterday morning, I got up at 6:30 in the morning, ready to send my daughter to school, sitting on the toilet and watching the news, only to see Maradona die. I clicked on Weibo, brushed it down, and found that all my friends who posted Weibo were middle-aged men over the age of 40. 40 years old, maybe the lower age limit of really experiencing, witnessing, falling in love with Maradona. In our circle, there is an agent, nicknamed Five. I learned yesterday that this "five-person" is not the "five-person" of the five-person mooncake, but the "five-person" who has connected five people. I look back on the past few years, not only in 2020, but also in the 2020 world, how many memorial services I have been to, and how many division commanders and friends have been said goodbye. This made me have to examine and remind myself that at this time in life, I am destined to face more and more parting. I don't know when, I don't know when, the meteor flashes, the years have passed, the youth has gone, and the wind and dust have passed.
After Old Zhao was gone, we never got together again. Thinking of Old Zhao, I don't know what to say to him. Today I want to say: Old Zhao, Maradona also went to your side, you see him play football.