SENT ON AN errand, or packed off to school, Diego Maradona didn't walk. He practised keepie-uppies, instep to thigh to back-heel to head, with anything roughly round he could find. Scrum-pled paper would do, or an orange, or a ball of rags. Tac-tac-tac, on and on and on. Then he hopped on his right foot, especially up the steps of the railway bridge, while his left foot tried out skills. If no one was wanting him he would head for the waste ground of Villa Fiorito, one of the worst shanty-towns in Buenos Aires, but home to him, to have kickabouts with friends until night fell, or later.
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