A PASSION FOR BOCA

                   One afternoon, while me and my old man were out walking in La
                   Paternal, he plucked up the courage to tell me about a dream he had... It was
                   unusual for him and it took me by surprise. He’s not one for saying much to me
                   so I listened to him. “Dieguito, you know what I was thinking last night? That
                   it’d be nice to see you playing in a Boca shirt one day... You in the Bombonera,
                   us and the family from Esquina rooting for you.” Right... Boca was a tempting
                   prospect but... they were skint. Really strapped for cash!

                   Franconieri, a reporter from Crónica, rang me. “Hi Diego. So the River deal’s in
                   the bag, is it?” I caught on to what he was after right away. He wanted me to
                   turn things inside out, to tell tales. So I let him talk for a bit and then stuck my
                   neck out. “No, I’m not going to sign for River ’cause Boca Juniors have been 
                   on the phone.” It came to me right there and then. Sudden inspiration I think. 
                   You know, one of those ideas that pop up occasionally.

                   It was a funny state of affairs. River had all the money and no enthusiasm from
                   me; Boca were penniless and had my undivided passion.

                   What happened was I shifted from one kind of lifestyle to another. I was
                   already famous but I never thought pulling on the Boca shirt was going to
                   make such big changes in my life.

                   I made my official debut straight off after just two days: in the Bombonera on
                   Sunday 22 against Talleres from Córdoba. Mamita! The Bombonera that
                   Sunday!

                   The people were singing “Lo quería el Barcelona / lo quería River Plei /
                   Maradona es de Boca / gallina no es!” (Barcelona wanted him / And so did
                   River Plate / Maradona plays for Boca / ’Cause he’s no River Fowl!) as a
                   sideswipe at the Hens.

                   I’d finally made it, though it upset me to see all those lads go just ’cause I
                   arrived. I even felt bit ashamed the first time I showed my face at La Candela
                   sports club, where the team used to get together down in San Justo. I felt
                   funny about going inside. I even left the motor miles down the road.

                   I came back against Newell’s on 29 March and converted a penalty. We drew
                   2-2. The Sunday after that, we had a nice local derby against Independiente
                   coming up. It was really important to me. I had to battle with Marzolini so that
                   he’d finally give Ruggieri a place on the team. As he didn’t take a blind bit of
                   notice I turned to the veterans like Brindisi, Mouzo and Pernía. “Be honest.
                   Don’t you feel better supported when this kid’s playing?” El Cabezón Ruggeri
                   (The Head as we called him) already had tons of personality at the time. He
                   was always pushing forward... And they said, “Yeah, sure, Diego you’re right.
                   The kid’s got real balls.” So we went to see Marzolini and put the pressure on
                   him. Ruggeri played against Independiente in Avellaneda and we won 2-0 with
                   a volley of mine from outside the area and a goal... by the man himself.

                   We were pushing up, falling back, winning, drawing, losing. We weren’t being
                   exactly consistent. Hot on the heels of the derby game we drew with Vélez in
                   Liniers on the Wednesday night. I thought the draw would do us good, that it
                   would wake us up but it didn’t. We just carried on lurching along. We drew 0-0
                   in Caballito against old Carlos Timoteo Griguol’s Ferro, who we knew were our
                   main rivals in the title race and the most tight knit team of the lot. That May 3,
                   I got the shit kicked out of me like never before. There’s this incredible photo
                   (sometimes it feels like I’ve spent my whole life being photographed). I’m
                   flying through the air Michael Jordan-style like two metres off the ground after
                   this lunging tackle from Carlos Arregui. Anyway, they didn’t need to bring you
                   down. They had a team that was as regular as clockwork. Just the opposite of
                   us. Cúper and Garré and Saccardi, Cañete the Paraguayan, that Uruguayan,
                   Jiménez, who really kicked ass.

                   I always used to get goals against San Lorenzo too. The eternal thorn in
                   Boca’s side could never win against me. I don’t know, maybe that’s why Los
                   Cuervos (The Crows) love me so much. They’re the coolest fans in Argentina
                   to my mind. They have these brilliant little songs. They’re real entertainers... I
                   love them, I really do. I’d have liked to have played in that shirt
 

~Chapter 7

Chapters Index~

Chapter 9~