Of all the teams in the 2006 World Cup, only two had teams comprised entirely of players based in their domestic leagues. One of these was Italy, the eventual champion. The other was Saudi Arabia, who finished last place in their group with only a draw against Tunisia to their name (at least they didn’t lose 8-0, as they did against Germany in 2002).

The Saudi Arabian national team

That the entire 2006 Italian squad played their club ball in Italy is not a surprise given the strength of Serie A. But the story of the Saudi squad is as much about Saudi Arabia the country as it is about soccer.

The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, to use its official name, has long had a conflicted relationship with the outside world. 75% of government revenues come from oil exports, but these funds are used largely to maintain an insular and extremely conservative society. Women, for example, are not permitted to drive and cannot travel outside the country without a male family member escort.

Women are not the only Saudis who face restrictions on travel abroad. Saudi footballers face even more of a challenge when attempting to play outside of the kingdom. To date, only two Saudi players, Sami al-Jaber and Fahad Al Ghasian, have ever made the move abroad.

Why is it that Saudi Arabian players do not go abroad?

It is not a question of skill because, while not world beaters, Saudi players are good enough to play in leagues stronger than their own.

The reasons why Saudi players remain at home are economic and cultural.

The Saudi Arabian league is, as Sukhdev Sandhu writes in The Thinking Fan’s Guide to the World Cup, structured very differently from most. It is a “cosseted league system, bankrolled by princes and the state rather than by local entrepreneurs” (246). Those same princes are also in charge or closely connected to those at the Saudi Arabian Football Association and few in the hierarchy want to lose their most recognizable local stars. (Yet, just as Saudi Arabia’s rulers keep their people happy with oil dollars from abroad, soccer authorities often import aging European and Latin American stars to generate excitement.)

The economic imperative to keep home-grown stars at home is apparent, but it is not the only reason so few Saudi players have gone abroad.

Just as there are laws that hinder women from traveling abroad, Saudi soccer stars have faced restrictions on playing in other countries.

Throughout history, the Saudi authorities have officially banned its players from going abroad. After the 1994 World Cup, star Saeed Owairan (scorer of this goal) “was banned from moving abroad by his football federation … along with the rest of that squad.”

Saeed Owairan

Saudi bans on women’s freedom are, by nature, paternalistic. Paternalism is also in evidence in the soccer authorities’ ban on players going abroad. Sukhdev Sandhu writes, “The Saudi Arabian Football Association apparently fearing that its players might not be ready for the rigors and discipline of foreign leagues, has sought to stop would-be-exiles from leaving” (264).

In the past decade, there has been some loosening of this ban. Sami Al-Jaber played for half a season with Wolves in 2000, although he returned home after playing only a few matches as a substitute.

Sami Al-Jaber

Recently, the ban on Saudi players going abroad has been lifted. There are rumors that Galtasaray is interested in Yasser Al-Qahtani and the striker may move to Turkey over the summer.

But Al-Qahtani is unique in appearing to have an interest in playing abroad. As written on the Channel 4 website prior to the 2006 World Cup, “The barriers imposed by the Saudi FA on players moving abroad are no longer in place, but still few Saudi players have the desire to take their talents abroad.”

Saudi soccer fan Ghassan Bataweel told the website menafan.com in January that many players from his country have internalized the paternalistic attitudes of the Saudi FA. He says players are fearful that they might not be able to cut it in Europe. “[P]layers would not get the opportunity to play for prominent European clubs. It takes hard work and training to develop the level of skills that are required in order to make it on such teams.” (Economic factors are at work here too. Salaries in Saudi Arabia are far higher than Saudi players going abroad could hope to earn.)

In Saudi Arabian soccer, as in the country as a whole, a degree of hegemony has been established. Just as many in Saudi society have come to accept the strict social controls imposed by the country’s rulers as natural, so too have the country’s footballers internalized the interests of those who run soccer in that country. The Saudi FA may have eliminated the ban because, with so few players interested in playing abroad, it is no longer necessary.

The greatest threat to this status quo is globalization, a phenomenon occurring at a torrid pace. Even insular societies such as Saudi Arabia are facing increasing outside influence (satellite TV has brought European soccer to the kingdom and several leagues are draw higher ratings than the local competition). In the future, Saudi players will become more familiar with other leagues, and will recognize the poor quality of their own league by comparison. This may lead to more players wanting to test themselves abroad. But until that time, the country’s best players will continue to ply their trade in Saudi Arabia.

Anyone who has taken even a passing interest in the career of Diego Maradona was not surprised when he was hospitalized last month. Maradona’s latest medical adventure turned out to be acute hepatitis, a condition brought on by alcohol abuse. It’s not the first time that Maradona has brought suffering upon himself, yet despite his many transgressions he remains an idol in Argentina.

There are many reasons to dislike Diego Maradona. He is a cheater, as anyone who has seen his “Hand of God” goal knows. He was suspended twice for drug use, once in 1991 for cocaine and for ephedrine in 1994. He has never been faithful to his many partners. He is rumored to have connections to the Italian mafia. He is incredibly egotistical and indulges to excess (he had stomach-stapling surgery in 2005 after literally ballooning due to eating a diet comprised exclusively of pizza, steak, pasta and cakes. He is notoriously prickly, having once received a nearly three-year suspended sentence for shooting reporters who sought comment outside his home.

Maradona, large and in charge

Most people with this type of rap sheet would be in jail or in an institution. Not Diego Maradona. He roams free (except for occasional hospital trips he brings upon himself) amidst an Argentine public that adores him.Why, exactly, do Argentines love Diego Maradona?

Much of the explanation for the seemingly illogical adoration of this flawed genius comes from the history of soccer in Argentina. Brought to the country by British sailors, it was initially the purview of the expat aristocracy. But soccer was soon adopted by the masses in Argentina and given its own South American flavor. As the BBC’s Tim Vickery writes:

First, it was introduced by the British, who were very influential in the region, supplying the activity with first world prestige. Second, it was re-interpreted by the South Americans. The straight line running style of the English was replaced by a much more intricate game of feints, twists and turns - ideal for the player with a low centre of gravity, the physical build of many South Americans.

Vickery’s description of the playing style and physical build of South American players fits perfectly with Diego Maradona. Before getting to other factors, it must be said that Maradona is loved for his ability on the field. Maradona’s passing, dribbling, touch and other skills are, in many ways, the Argentine ideal. Watching the incredibly technical Maradona tear apart teams (such as the English) with a more physical approach, Argentines saw their vision of the beautiful game vindicated.

But Argentina’s love affair with Diego Maradona is not just about soccer. It is also about what he represents. Jimmy Burns, author of the biography Hand of God, describes “Maradona as a unique social, political, and religious phenomenon” (viii).

Maradona has become a social phenomenon largely because he enabled Argentines to achieve their dream of taking on and beating the powerful at their own game. Gabrielle Marcotti has written that Maradona represents “one of the oldest archetypes, that of the slave who outfoxes and defeats his master.”

Maradona, representing the poor and deprived masses, brings down the Western Establishment, not with his God-given physical gifts, but with his brainpower, the very attribute that the First World maintains that the underdeveloped savages elsewhere lack.

When he led Argentina to victory over England, Maradona’s countrymen admired him for finally getting one over on their former colonial masters. The way Maradona almost single-handedly defeated England in the 1986 World Cup is memorable. On that day in the Estadio Azteca, he scored two of the most famous goals of all time: the Hand of God as well as a sixty-yard slaloming run that has been voted the best goal of all time. (Current president Nestor Kirchner has said that Maradona “made all Argentines weep with joy.”)

Maradona after winning the 1986 World Cup

Nobody questions Maradona’s genius on the latter goal, but the Hand of God has been viewed very differently in England and Argentina. Writing in the Guardian, Marcela Mora y Araujo describes the difference in views:

To most English people it was a vile piece of cheating. But, although the rules of football disallow such actions, the informal rules of the lawless vacant lots state that anything goes as long as the referee doesn’t say otherwise, especially in Argentina, where such flexibility extends well beyond football.

Mora y Araujo even ascribes a name to Maradona’s creative application of the laws, picadia criolla, which she translates as “creole cheekiness.”

In his biography of Maradona, Jimmy Burns presents an Argentine concept synonymous to picadia criolla, that of viveza. Burns writes:

In Argentina the English concept of fair play is not as popularly recognized or indeed applauded as that of viveza. The word literally means liveliness, but is used to mean craftiness or trickery, and is never used in a derogatory sense (6).

To a culture that has two words to describe rule-bending, it is logical that Diego Maradona would be a hero.

But what of Diego’s many documented problems? Do Argentines not hold his suspensions, marital infidelity, and shooting of unarmed citizens against him? In short, no.

So what accounts for Argentines’ apparent willingness to forgive Maradona for his many sins? I would suggest that it is due, at least in part, to Argentines’ willingness to admit to their own failures. Argentina has the most psychoanalysts per capita of any country. Many residents of Buenos Aires speak of going to their shrink as if it were a trip to the barber. The shame which continues to surround psychotherapy in many countries is less in evidence in Argentina. And a country full of people so aware of their own weaknesses can hardly fault Diego Maradona for his failings.

There are many explanations for why Maradona has become such a revered figure in his homeland. Yet even so, the level of passion his fans show for Diego is incredible. Marcela Mora y Araujo quotes a sports psychologist (appropriately enough) who says that “In Argentina we are addicted to discussing Maradona, He is our drug. It is not him who is ill, it is us.”

The symptoms of this illness are numerous. There are several sites in homage to him. One contains a poem written by a 15 year-old to her idol (”I say thank you for letting me love you / and may I carry your name in my heart until the last second of my life”).

Art can be found in Argentina that shows Maradona in all his glory.

There was a petition before the 2006 World Cup to put Maradona on the Argentine roster (supporters urged the coach to give him “10 minutes of love” in the tournament) and a street in the city of Santa Rosa was named after him.

Maradona’s voice is respected in Argentina, which is a bit of a surprise given how miserably he’s failed at everything except playing soccer. Despite other unsuccessful attempts at management (he was sacked as manager of Racing Club after missing training because he was on an alcohol and drugs ingesting spree), there was a clamor after the 2002 World Cup for Maradona to take over from Marcelo Bielsa. And when Maradona began a TV show called La Noche del Diez (literally, “the night of ten” in reference to his uniform number), it drew nearly one third of the Argentine audience to watch him sing a song called “The Hand of God.”

Claims that a person is viewed as a god are usually an exaggeration, but not in the case of Diego Maradona. A church set up to worship Maradona may attract only a few followers, but the fact that it exists says something about the level of devotion Argentines have to their most famous player.

But it’s not just a few who relate Diego Maradona and the supernatural. As Gabrielle Marcotti writes that some “argue that sections of his fanbase - whether consciously or unconsciously - secretly entertain the notion that he harbours some form of divinity.”

References to Maradona as a god are evident in recent headlines about him.

Un Dios Aparte (A God Apart) detailed Maradona’s recent trip to Argentine second division team Tristan Suarez practice, after which striker Daniel Bazón Vera said, “We take [Maradona] as our guide.” When the team went on to win their next three games, a second article (titled Dios te Ayuda or God Help You) quoted the same striker. “Now we have God on our side,” said Bazón Vera. The article finished with a simple declaration: “and it’s true.”

Another headline which mixed Diego Maradona and God was seen during his most recent trip to the hospital. Headlined Dios es Argentino (God is Argentine), the article detailed Maradona’s recovery from alcohol-induced hepatitis and offered hope that he might attend the Boca vs. River superclásico (he wasn’t able to).

Estudiantes de la Plata players show support recently for Maradona

Of course, Diego Maradona will one day die. Given his lifestyle, the odds that his death will come prematurely are high. Maradona may recover from his latest illness, but it’s only a matter of before he does himself in. Yet even Maradona’s death will not put an end to the devotion many Argentines feel toward him. As Jimmy Burns writes,

The only certainty about Maradona is that when he dies, no matter how he dies, his funeral in Buenos Aires will be as big as Evita’s and even then people won’t believe that he is dead (2).

To most of the world which views him as a supremely talented player, but incredibly flawed person this belief makes little sense. But to the many Argentines who worship Diego Maradona as a god, the idea that he would live forever makes perfect sense.