Mexico stepped in, but in controversial circumstances, fending off bids from both Canada and the USA, thus becoming the first nation to host the World Cup finals twice having previously staged the iconic 1970 tournament which left a profound mark on football history.

Mexico ‘70 was a celebration of artistry and attacking brilliance, immortalised by Pelé’s Brazil and the introduction of global television coverage in colour. It set a standard for spectacle and romance. By contrast, Mexico ‘86 would be shaped not just by footballing beauty, but by resilience, both on and off the pitch.

Less than a year before the tournament, disaster struck. In September 1985, a devastating earthquake hit Mexico City, killing thousands and leaving vast swathes of the capital in ruins. The tragedy cast doubt on whether the country could still host the World Cup. Infrastructure was damaged, resources were strained, and the emotional toll on the nation was immense.

Yet Mexico persisted. Reconstruction efforts were rapid and determined, and hosting the World Cup finals became a symbol of recovery, pride, and unity. When the tournament kicked off in June 1986, it carried with it a deeper significance: football as a vehicle for healing.

And into all of this stepped Diego Maradona.

By the time the tournament began, Diego Maradona was already a global superstar, but his career had been anything but smooth. He had emerged in Argentina as a teenage prodigy with Argentinos Juniors, dazzling with his balance, vision, and audacity, and a move to Boca Juniors followed, where he won the Argentine title and confirmed his status as the nation’s golden boy. But it was his transfer to Europe that truly defined his next chapter.

In 1982, Maradona joined Barcelona for a then world-record transfer fee. Expectations were enormous, yet his time in Spain was turbulent. Injuries, illness, and fierce defensive tactics took their toll. A brutal tackle by Athletic Bilbao’s Andoni Goikoetxea in 1983 left him with a broken ankle, sidelining him for months, while off the pitch, tensions grew between Maradona, the club hierarchy, and the Spanish media.

The breaking point came at the 1984 Copa del Rey final, a match played out before King Juan Carlos I. A mass brawl erupted after the final whistle, with Maradona at its epicentre, while fans hurled missiles from the stands leading to injuries to 60 people.

In the aftermath, the club’s hierarchy washed their hands of Maradona with one official commenting that “when I saw those scenes of Maradona fighting and the chaos that followed I realised we couldn’t go any further with him.

It was a chaotic end to a strained relationship. Barcelona had seen flashes of genius, but not the sustained brilliance they had hoped for, and the parting of the ways seemed best for all concerned.

That same year, Maradona moved to Napoli in Italy, for another world record transfer fee. It was a transfer that seemed – at the time – almost puzzling. Napoli were not among Italy’s elite clubs. They had never won the Serie A title and were overshadowed by northern giants like Juventus, AC Milan, and Inter.

But in Naples, Maradona found something different: devotion. The city embraced him not just as a footballer, but as a messiah, and a symbol of defiance against northern dominance; as a local newspaper put it, Naples may have been missing a “mayor, houses, schools, buses, employment and sanitation, none of this matters because we have Maradona."

He, in turn, began to rediscover his joy, his confidence, and his sense of purpose. By 1986, Maradona was ready – not just as a player, but as a leader.

Argentina entered the finals in Mexico with cautious optimism. Their squad was not considered among the strongest, while manager Carlos Bilardo favoured a pragmatic, disciplined approach, and was subsequently often criticised for being overly cautious. But at the heart of his system was Maradona. Everything revolved around him.

Bilardo built the team to maximise Maradona’s influence, handing him freedom, responsibility, and trust, while handing him the captain’s armband. Consequently, the expectations of a nation rested on his shoulders. However, Maradona was to take it all in his stride.

Argentina’s group stage performances were solid rather than spectacular. They defeated South Korea, drew with Italy – in which Maradona scored his first goal of the tournament to salvage a draw – before beating Bulgaria to top their group, setting up a clash with old rivals Uruguay in the round of 16. Maradona was already showing glimpses of his brilliance, orchestrating play and drawing defenders like a magnet.

But the real story was yet to unfold. Maradona led Argentina to a tight 1-0 victory over Uruguay to clinch a place in the quarter-finals where they inevitably came face-to-face with England.

The showdown with England was more than a football match; it was loaded with political and emotional weight. Just four years earlier, Argentina and the United Kingdom had fought the Falklands War, a brief but intense conflict over the disputed islands in the South Atlantic.

The war had ended in British victory after just 74 days, but it cost the lives of 649 Argentinians, 255 Britons, and three Falkland Islanders, and the scars remained fresh. For many Argentinians, the match carried symbolic significance.

Though it wasn’t an opportunity for revenge in a literal sense, the game was charged with national pride, memory, and emotion. Maradona himself would later describe it as a match played “with the soul.”

On 22 June 1986, Argentina and England met at Mexico City’s Azteca Stadium, and Diego Maradona delivered one of the most extraordinary performances in football history.

The match was tightly contested until the 51st minute when chaos unfolded. After a run from Jorge Valdano broke down, Maradona chased a sliced Steve Hodge clearance into the penalty area, leaping alongside England goalkeeper Peter Shilton who stood eight inches taller than him.

In that split second, Maradona extended his left arm and punched the ball into the net.

Maradona wheeled away in celebration, offering cautious glances at the officials. Incredibly, the referee allowed the goal to stand, sparking a furious reaction from England’s players led by Shilton, while around 5,500 miles away in Packmoor, as we were watching events unfold on our Amstrad TV set, my dad offered up his own commentary on Maradona’s opening goal: “you cheating little bastard!”