Maradona: Hand, Soul, and Glory

I was born in Argentina, in a poor neighborhood where dreams felt impossible. I had nothing but

a ball at my feet and fire in my heart. I played not with strength, but with magic—not

with rules, but with instinct. I carried a nation on my shoulders, and in one match,

I became history. I scored with my hand and with my soul, dribbled past giants,

and made the world stop and watch. I was loved like a god and criticized like a villain.

I fell, I rose, and I lived intensely. I was not perfect, but I was unforgettable.

Guess who I am?