Today I’m wearing blue and white, and my heart is beating for Argentina. Not just because of the football, but because of the man who made me fall in love with the game: Diego Armando Maradona.

Growing up, Maradona was not just a player on TV. He was proof that someone from the streets could take on the world and win. I still remember 1986 like it was yesterday. The Goal of the Century against England. The Hand of God. The way he carried an entire country on his back in Mexico. He played with joy, anger, magic, and pure stubbornness. That World Cup taught me that one person, with enough belief, can change everything.

Then came 1990 in Italy. Argentina didn’t have the same team, but they had Diego. Even injured, even limping, he dragged them to the final. That tournament showed me a different kind of greatness. Not just the dribbles and goals, but the leadership, the fight, the refusal to quit. That is the Maradona I tried to copy in school matches in the neighborhood. Head up, chest out, never back down.

Diego left us, but what he gave us didn’t. The passion. The belief. The idea that football is more than tactics and money. It’s identity. It’s pride. It’s for the people.

So today I’m supporting Argentina again. For the new generation, yes. But mostly for the No. 10 who inspired a kid like me back in 1986 and 1990.

Gracias, Diego. This one is for you.