My job’s a rough-sailing racquet, with the occasional Mick Jagger


My job’s a rough-sailing racquet, with the occasional Mick Jagger

Watching sport and reporting it are starkly different, and this is why you can't hide in my luggage


Is that Maradona? There! Leaning out of that balcony and thrashing his arms at the players down on the field like a crazy crackerjack. Is it him? Could be. But it’s difficult to be sure here in the cheap seats behind the goal.

Which is where I was a few years ago, at La Bombonera watching Boca Juniors play Independiente. It was hard to know whether you were less safe inside the stadium or immediately outside it, in some of Buenos Aires’ meanest streets.

To be there was impressive enough. To survive the experience was a triumph. I celebrated the fact the next afternoon by going across town to watch a quarterfinal in the Argentinian polo championship, where the only clear and present danger was in failing to recognise the designer-draped celebrities in the stands. At least, they behaved like celebrities. I can confirm that Maradona was not in attendance...

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