All That Man Is - Maradona as memory, myth, and metaphor
What happens to a body when it’s subjected? Diego experienced it in his own flesh and blood. He was the people, he was clay: “earth and water,” in his own words. Regardless, defiant Diego still subjugated others, especially women. His mutant-body held many contrasting stories of masculinity, some unquestionably sinister: misogynistic violence (he hit his partner), a wake of children, abandonment, homophobia too. Irreconcilably, because Diego pushed the limits of that mandate with real relish and in full public view. We watched him kiss his male friends on the mouth in soccer stadiums; we gossiped about his passionate love for the transgender actress and dancer Cris Miró; we celebrated the cover of the sports magazine where Diego, drag queen, stares out at us with his beautiful, desolate eyes while the party rages all around him. Diego was constant, simultaneous feeling, all rush and gush, all blotch and mess, a jumble of humors and secretions. Spit, sweat, tears. Which is why: to each their own Maradona. Tears of joy in triumph, tears of sorrow in defeat, just as the rule book prescribes. And vice versa, even offside. He savored everything, suffered everything.