~World Cup Final, June 1986, Azteca Stadium, Mexico City, Mexico.
On that faithful day with the scorching hot sun, 100k+ people filled up Estadio Azteca to watch the world cup final between Argentina and West Germany.
Both teams went with the 3-5-2 formation, Maradona as captain for Argentina, while Rummenigge wearing the band for West Germany.
Unlike the fine carpet grasses of today, the grass at Azteca was thick and slightly uneven, but no one could care less.
That in fact, had ever given antique football a certain raw feel.
The atmosphere was thrilling. Trumpets, drums, Mexican flags, blue and white, black–red–yellow!
Outside of the stadium, vendors were selling tacos, tortas, Coca-Cola, and cervezas.
The commentary echoed from their booth, loud enough to even make it through the midday heat, filling everyone with the sense of celebration and excitement.
Franz Beckenbauer shook hands with Carlos Bilardo minutes before the match began while announcements were made over the hitting of drums and blaring of horns.
"Quick! Quick, Rulo! They're checking tickets up front again!"
Diego whispered to his friend with wide, assessing eyes.
Rulo, his friend, almost tripped because of the pressure and tension.
"I'm moving, I'm moving!"
Diego looked around again, crouched when an officer in uniform passed him and his friend. He shushed Rulo until the coast was clear before they continued moving.
And no, this isn't Diego Maradona, this is Diego Montoya. Totally different.
Maradona was in the stadium, Montoya was trying to get IN the stadium.
Illegally.
Without a ticket.
Him and his friend.
They've done it before in the semifinals.
They're doing it again in the finals!
"The guards are everywhere this time. How do we even—" Rulo wanted to give up, but his best friend wasn't having any of it.
"No time to think! Just follow me, quick and quiet!"
Diego grabbed Rulo's arm and tugged him across the pavement before the railings and a few wooden boxes.
They were in the open for now, but in comparison to the general atmosphere, the boys were but unnoticed rats.
Eventually, they reached the same restricted fence from last time.
Together, they gathered garbage bags to help climb over.
Within a minute, the notorious boys were over the high fence that led to the 11th stand.
Remembering their way, they entered through the dark back of the stands, and found their way inside its rafters
"Rulo! We made it… we're actually inside!"
"I… I can see them! Maradona… he's running the ball!"
"Quiet! Don't scream or you'll ruin everything!"
The two boys made themselves comfortable to watch the final they didn't pay a dime for. The match was already 5:00 in, and they arrived just in time to see Maradona take the first corner for Argentina.
"WOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"
The crowd roared after the perfect set piece from the team's No. 10 was totally wasted with poor foot placement from one of the defenders.
Germany cleared that away without hesitation!
Fifteen minutes later, Germany retaliated with a threatening attack to Argentina's box, but they were shut down with a solid clearing that handed the ball to Argentine winger, Pasculli.
"WOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"
Pedro Pasculli handled the ball at the right wing with determination to cover as much open field towards the German goal, but German defender, Briegel, had other plans.
Diego, who was in total support of Argentina, was outraged by such an atrocious foul.
"...SET PIECE FOR ARGENTINA...!"
"WOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"
Praying with his rosary, Diego placed his hope on his namesake, the legendary Diego Maradona as he walked to take the free kick.
In the quarterfinals, Maradona had been the definition of miraculous and otherworldly.
Hand of God! Goal of the Century!
He had dribbled past half the English team like they were cones on a training pitch, and eventually curled the ball past the clueless keeper into the welcoming net.
Diego wondered if Maradona might just do the impossible by scoring an almost 90° goal from this free kick spot!
No. 10 in blue kicked the ball, the crowd held their breath as it soared into enemy territory.
Schumacher leapt out to catch the ball with his gloves.
"... HE'S NOT GETTING TO IT...!"
José Luis Brown, Argentine defender who pressed, overpowers the Germans, and heads the goddamn ball in!
"... ARGENTINA HAS SCORED....!!!"
Diego and Rulo leapt to their feet, throwing their arms on the air, whispering-shouting as the stadium unraveled into chaos after the opener.
Brown's header was stunning, and his sliding celebration, even more spectacular! The Argentine crowd roared, waving their flags as they took the lead in the 1986 World Cup Final!
It was a surprise how no one spotted the two 8-year-olds jumping up and down inside the overhang of he 11th stand.
Diego had to calm his friend down so they wouldn't blow their cover. It was only halfway the first half, and he'd be bummed if they were spotted.
But Diego had to admit later that he was just as unrestrained as his bestfriend.
After spending eternity waiting through injury time, staring at the empty field and discussing about the awesome first half, the two Mexican boys were excited to see the players match out again for another forty-five minutes of professionalism with the stakes so high.
By 55', Argentina made it 2:0, stunning the world!
From the start of the second half, West Germany did frighten a lot of Argentina supporters with a possible equaliser. But Argentina reclaimed the leather at the midfield, where Héctor Enrique delivered a perfect through ball into Germany's half.
Valdano made the run. Valdano was the scorer. Schumacher wasn't able to stop it.
"...WEST GERMANY NEVER GOT CLOSE TO HIM! HE HAD SO MUCH SPACE! JORGE VALDANO MAKES IT TWO FOR ARGENTINA, A DOUBLE CUSHION!"
"WOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"
"Did you see that, Rulo? He eat them!"
"Two–nil… Against the Germans! We're watching history!"
'And we're watching it happen for free. Haha!'
But as Diego celebrated both Argentina's strong lead and his notoriety, his eyes caught something move at the dark corner where they had climbed up into the rafters from.
Two uniformed guards poked in their heads as if they were scanning and searching for something or someone in particular.
"There they are!" One of them yelled, pointing at the boys. "Caught you little rats at last!"
Diego's face paled to blank white as he saw his doom. Even Rulo was too shocked to move, but the boys regained their senses when one of the guards immediately began crawling towards them.
From the hunger in his eyes, the man wasn't going to treat them friendly!
"When we drag you down from there, you'll wish you'd bought a ticket like everyone else!"
"Run, Rulo! Run!"
Sadly, the boys had to abandon the world cup final they were watching just to run for their lives in the opposite direction.
Their small hands and legs struggled to grip the ledges of the rafters tightly without slipping, while the guard closed on them with terrifying speed, laughing like a maniac.
Unfortunately, Rulo slipped. His foot missed a beam, and he dangled helplessly until the guard lunged and seized his wrist in a cruel grip that made him cry out.
Rulo kicked and squirmed, but the man wasn't letting go anytime soon.
"Diego help!"
'Oh, Rulo. You had one job! Why is it always you?'
Panic flooded Diego's chest as he stared at his friend being devoured into strong arms.
He had the choice to help his bestfriend, risk both of them being caught, or use this opportunity to run.
Diego chose the latter.
'Sorry, Rulo!' he thought as he bolted away.
"The other one's heading down the south aisle!"
The guard that captured Rulo yelled on top of his voice to his colleague on the ground. "Cut him off before he reaches the stairwell!"
But the 2nd Guard was a bit slow in receiving the info.
Diego had already just burst out of the stairwell and was running for his life away from the stadium.
Immediately, the 2nd Guard saw him and began chasing after, man against boy!
Diego's little legs pumped furiously to the extent he lost his sandals in the run as he fled past the outer gates of Azteca.
The gap between predator and prey shrank rapidly as they spilled into the busy street beyond the stadium's vicinity.
When Diego looked back, he was stunned to see the guard still chasing after.
"Stop, you brat!" The guard roared with his palm out, reaching for Diego.
But Diego remained defiant and uncooperative, not knowing that the guard was trying to save him from an approaching truck!
HONK! HONK!
"Look out! That boy's going to get hit!" a vendor shouted, dropping his tray of tacos.
Diego turned his head toward the voice just in time to see blinding headlights flooding over him.
The monstrous truck screeched and blared its horn, but it was already too late for both the driver and the boy.
~BAM!
The impact easily lifted Diego's tiny frame off the ground, hurling him across the street like a discarded puppet.
His rosary beads snapped, and they scattered across the pavement.
People gasped, women screamed. From the impact, it wasn't possible for the boy to survive.
The guard who had been chasing Diego finally reached him, but not in the condition he would ever wish for anyone.
Dropping to his knees, the guard screamed "NO!" countless times while shaking the boy's lifeless, bleeding body.
A child dying by unfortunate circumstances was never taken lightly in this community regardless of who the child was and what he was doing.
And yet, for Diego, the world had already begun to dissolve.
His death was quick and unceremonial.
Darkness enveloped his vision instantly, blurring out the people that bad gathered him, and the face of the guard.
One breath, two breaths… then a third—
and Diego Montoya, the notorious boy who had chased legends and defied danger, was gone.
Even as the Azteca Stadium erupted with the drama of the 1986 World Cup final, one small heartbeat of the city's streets had been stolen away.
A boy was snatched from the world he loved in the very moment football history was being made.