To the members of the Maradonian Church, football is their way of life, and Maradona is their god, says Shaikha Rahimi
When the sun rises in Buenos Aires, the streets begin to fill with a familiar sound: the rhythmic thumping of footballs hitting the pavements. The city is alive with the spirit of the game, a passion that runs deep in the blood of every Argentine.
But for some, it’s not just a sport. It's a religion, a way of life, and a connection to one of the greatest players the world has ever known. Diego Maradona.
Saying football is a religion may be a cliché. But in the case of these people, it’s actually true.
Enter the Iglesias Maradoniana, where the pews are footballs, the hymns are chants of “Diego, Diego,” and the choir is a rowdy group of fans. The altar is a grassy field, where members gather to pay their respects to their footballing deity. And the holy scripture? It's not a book, but rather a collection of Maradona's greatest moments on the pitch - the Hand of God, the Goal of the Century, and every audacious move in between.
For the members of Iglesias Maradoniana, which translates to the Church of Maradona, the football legend is more than merely that. Maradona is a saint and a symbol of hope. They come from all walks of life united in their love for a man who transcends the boundaries of sport. And as they gather to celebrate his life and legacy, they do so with a fervour and a joy that can only come from a deep and abiding faith.
Juan Garcia, 57, has been a devoted member of Iglesias Maradoniana for 11 years. "Iglesias Maradoniana is not just a religion, it's a community. I find support, comfort, and a sense of belonging in Diego,” he says.
“Like many kids in Argentina, I grew up playing football and watching Diego. Every little kid who played football in my neighbourhood looked up to him and aspired to be like him. I was no exception.
“When I was in my mid 20s I developed a heart condition that made it hard for me to play football. I felt useless. I felt guilt and shame. It was tough.
“Every kid in Buenos Aires and beyond felt a sense of responsibility to continue the legacy of Maradona. Being hit with the reality of not being able to play football broke me.
“I found out I had this heart condition while playing football. My dad was watching me play and I suddenly collapsed on the pitch.
“I was admitted to the closest hospital in San Isidro where the doctors told my dad I might not make it. But here I am,” says Juan with a hint of relief spreading across his face.
“Every time I asked my dad how I’m still here he would say, ‘it’s Diego’. This is why I’m a devoted member of the Maradonian Church,” says Juan.
Juan is a man of simple tastes, and tattoos were never his cup of tea. He never understood the appeal of permanently marking his skin with ink, and getting a tattoo was out of the question. Deep down, he knew that if he were ever to get one, it would have to hold significant value to him. For Juan, it only made sense to get a portrait of Maradona tattooed.
“I always said I hated tattoos and if I ever get a tattoo, it would have to mean a lot to me. In that moment and every moment for the last 11 years, nothing meant more to me than Maradona.
“He’s the only god that is present, and the only one I can feel. People can go in the streets and celebrate regardless of their beliefs, the football team they support, or their political beliefs. If people can do that for something as banal for many as football to create happiness, it’s unreal. Maradona makes that possible for the people of Argentina. He will forever be remembered for bringing us together and creating joy and unity within us.
Juan is not the only one with testimonies that highlight Maradona’s influence beyond the pitch for the Argentine. Lucas Martinez, a single mother of two, says her daughter fell ill and was told there was little hope for her.
“When my daughter Dona got ill I was desperate for anything that might help her.
“I took a picture of Diego and placed it next to my Dona. I prayed to him, asking him to save my little girl. At that moment I truly believed he was listening. I did that every day until, to my amazement, Dona’s became stronger.
“It’s been two years, but my Dona is still with us, happy and healthy,” says Lucas.
Dona has a twin sister. Her name is Mara. Mara and Dona.
“My kids were baptised by the Maradonian church. Their dad took them there so they could see he isn’t crazy.
“I’ve never been a fanatic. It’s bad in all contexts, but with Maradona it was the first time I felt such passion. He came from the most vulnerable and marginalised parts of society but still went all the way to the top of sports history. The difference between God and Maradona is that we have proof Maradona exists. Christians have Jesus, Buddhists have Buddha, we have Maradona.
“As a mother, I never thought my devotion to Diego would take over my life. He saved my little girl,” says Lucas with tears brimming in her eyes.
“For us Argentinians, we have many reasons to be devastated and even more reasons to lose hope in life. Our government is corrupt and our political leaders are unjust. Some nights I can only afford to feed my kids. But even with all these struggles, the weight of the world is lifted off my shoulders when it’s an Argentina game day. I forget everything.”
Lucas says the national team has the power to bring joy to every Argentine, even during their toughest battles.
“He unites the country when we’re at our lowest. Who can have this much power? He is not just anyone. He is sacred.
“Many ask me, ‘Why? Why a religion? Are you mocking God?’ That’s not what we do. It’s logical - to Argentinians, football is a religion, and every religion has a God. Diego is the God of football,” says Lucas.
“It’s part of our religion to preach the principles and commandments of our church. Wherever I go I speak about the Maradonian miracles, and fans are always quick to meet with us.
Through them we create new venues where we celebrate Christmas on October 30 and Easter on June 22. The most important one is Maradona’s Christmas on October 30. It’s Diego’s birthday.”
Within the Maradonian Church, there are those who believe in nothing but in the Maradonian power. This devotion is more than just a passing interest to them - it is a contagious way of life. An expression of extraordinary admiration for the most extraordinary sportsman they have ever known.
Their religious ritual is a spiritual practice. “In the name of La Total, Don Diego, and the fruit of their love, Diego, Diego, Diego.”
Even when the sun sets on Buenos Aires, the thumping of soccer balls on pavement continues and the spirit of the game lives on in a different kind of way - one that celebrates not just the sport, but a man who embodied everything that made it special. "Diego may be gone, but his spirit lives on. We will keep celebrating it for as long as we can.”
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