第一段

In his valedictory moment, he did not seekabsolution. All he asked, instead, was that the sport that he had loved andthat had adored him in return, the one that he had mastered, the one he hadilluminated, the one he lifted into an art, was not tarnished by all that hehad done.

It is certainly possible that Diego Armando Maradona, whodied Wednesday at age 60, was the finest soccer player ever to draw breath,though that is a subject of hot and unyielding debate. Less contentious is theidea that no other player has ever inspired such fierce devotion.

There is something approaching a cult in his namein Naples, the overlooked and demeaned port city that he transformed into thecenter of the soccer universe for a few, glorious years at the peak of hiscareer. In Argentina, Maradona’s homeland — which declared three days ofnational mourning once his death was announced — there has long been a churchin his honor. For many, Maradona was a quasi-religious experience.

He was no straightforward icon. He struggled withdrug addiction for decades. He was thrown out of a World Cup in disgrace aftertesting positive for performance-enhancing drugs. Health troubles plagued him,testament to a life of excess.

第二段

Maradona never shied away from acknowledging thathe had made mistakes, even as he failed to stop making them. The tendency —understandable, sincere, unavoidable — as soccer reeled from the news of hisdeath, as the eulogies flowed from Lionel Messi (“eternal”) and from CristianoRonaldo (“a genius”) and from Pelé (“a legend”), was to avoid his flaws and hisweaknesses, to strike his demons from memory out of respect, out of affection.

But if the flaws diminished what Maradona was, they burnishedwhat he represented to those who watched him, those who adored him. That suchbeauty could emerge from such tumult made him mean something more; it gave hima resonance that stretched beyond even his outsize ability. His darknesssharpened the contours of his light.

第三段

Thirty-two years before Maradona was born, thegreat Argentine writer Borocotó — editor of El Gráfico, the prestigious,trailblazing sports magazine — suggested the country should erect a statue tothe so-called pibe: the dusty-faced street kid with the “trickster eyes,” “amane of hair rebelling against the comb” and the “sparkling gaze” whorepresented not only Argentina’s soccer culture, but also its self-image as anation. Maradona was the platonic ideal of a pibe, all virtuoso skill andimpetuous cunning.

No matter how high he flew, Maradona never strayedfrom his roots; he was a pibe when he first emerged, he was a pibe when healmost single-handedly dragged Argentina to the World Cup in 1986, and back tothe final four years later. He was a pibe when Barcelona made him the mostexpensive player on the planet and when he took Napoli to not one, but twoSerie A titles. He was a pibe even as he conquered the world.

Maradona himself always saw soccer as hissalvation, his deliverance. In 2005, in a brief phase as a televisionpersonality, he was asked what he might like to offer up as an epitaph. “Thanksto soccer,” he said. “It is the sport that gives me the greatest joy, thegreatest freedom. It is like touching the sky with your hands. Thanks to theball.”

His flaws and his demons will not be forgotten, not even withtime. His memory will always be a complex one. But no matter how deep thedarkness, it should not be allowed to obscure the light that he brought. “Lapelota no se mancha.” The ball does not show the dirt.