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Or when “El Pibe” of Colombia overwhelmed “El Pibe de Oro”.
It happens in football, as in many other things, to take certain assumptions for granted, almost as if they were indisputable dogmas. So if you ask around who was the greatest number 10 in the history of football, most people will confidently say Benito Carbone…
Well, Maradona.
Others, more nostalgic (saudadeci to be precise), will say Pelé.
Some will say Platini. Many Italians will say Baggio (may he always be praised), while in Rome the most predictable answer will be Franciieesco.
If you ask me who was the greatest pure number 10 in the history of football - as far as you care about the opinion of a moron - I would have no doubts:
Carlos “El Pibe” Valderrama.
What is the number 10? Is he the team’s top scorer? The goal scorer?
No.
The 10 is, first and foremost, the playmaker, the one who has the task of seeing an open corridor even before the opposing defense understands what is happening. The strategist who dictates the tempo; the man of the last pass. The decisive one.
The 10 cannot be selfish, the true 10, the pure 10 has only one purpose in life: to make his teammates score. No matter how mediocre they may be, he will offer everyone the chance to become heroes.
The playmaker, indeed.
The 10 is poetry. Art.
He is someone who runs little, but runs well.
He seems still, but he is always in the right place.
Carlos seemed still, although in reality he was trotting, occasionally with a burst just to show that if he wanted, he could. But the true traveler was the ball.
The Goal? Ok, if it happens, otherwise better to let Iguarán or Galeano score (for full names, please refer to the registry office of Bogotá, but if I were you, I'd mind my own business).
One touch and he would send you through to goal.
Two touches, tick tock, who is it? God.
Colombia's victory at home against World Champion Argentina.
Surprise? Not really.
Masterful game by Carlos. His was the assist for the second Colombian goal that practically sealed the deal.
Maradona missed a goal already made, hypnotized by another mythological character, René Higuita.
A goalkeeper who was more than a goalkeeper, in fact, among other things, he was: an acrobat obsessed with scorpions; a nutcase convinced he played as an offensive midfielder; the biological father of Kirk “superpippa” Hammett and, above all, a dangerous drug trafficker.
By the way, at the time it was said that within Carlos' mane were hidden half a dozen Colombian narcos, and that Pablo Emilio Escobar himself used to spend the Christmas holidays safely among his curls.
This story was never actually confirmed, but neither was it denied.
That national team won nothing, but remains, in its own way, one of the most legendary formations of all time.
And Valderrama was its fulcrum.
Thank you Carlos. I love you.
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