Without matches to pass the time, I’ve been looking at the wide range of documentaries about soccer history and histrionics. After all, just because there aren’t any games being played right now, doesn’t mean that we don’t have any games or players to talk about.

One of the most discussed documentaries of late is a found footage film about the adoration and damnation of Diego Maradona in Napoli. A documentary that reminds us: make believe can be dangerous if you aren’t using it wisely.

Diego Maradona’s talent was tremendous, but so were his demons.

Maradona was a genius with a ball at his feet, but the real story (according to those who know him and the documentary) is that Maradona was only one part of the person.

Maradona played on the field. Maradona answered media questions and dealt with fans. Maradona fueled his life with attention, and pleasure, and all the drugs and people who made it possible. Meanwhile, Diego waited to live the regular life. Diego played with his kids and called his family back home so often it cost more than I make in a year. Diego felt joy while playing just for the sake of playing and remained a charming genuine person. As his trainer summarized it, “with Diego I would go to the ends of the earth, but with Maradona, I wouldn’t take a step.”

Ultimately, Maradona consumed Diego. I came to know about him near the end of his career when he and his friends brought the world’s game to the United States for the 1994 World Cup and I was immediately hooked. Maradona was the man in the middle, the star of the show, the greatest in the game (this despite him only recently returning from a 15 month suspension and debilitating drug problems).

But when he scored against Greece, it didn’t seem too miraculous. I thought it was a good goal, but his response immediately overshadowed the shot.

That look. Those crazed eyes. That primal scream and intense response. It was a little much for me. So to me, with my innocence and appreciation of kinder, gentler figures: Maradona became not an icon, but a caution. I’m sure I’d like Diego, but I can’t see him with Maradona in the way.

One of your dads other favorite entertainments around 1994 was pro-wrestling. With larger than life characters, epic battles between good and evil, and fluid, artful, athletic feats to inspire a clumsy 11 year old, I was an easy mark.

Decades later I can see that many of the characters I followed faithfully left a wake of destruction outside the ring.

Take Randy Poffo, or as the world knew him then, Macho Man Randy Savage. His intensity, ferocity, and frequent fits of jealous rage made him an unpredictable persona. Watching him perform was like watching the inside of a volcano roil and rumble before eruption.

While that persona served Randy Poffo well in pro wrestling, it pushed him past many limits in his personal life as well. The gregarious, goofy athlete Randy Poffo who learned both wrestling and poetry from his dad, changed bit by bit to the paranoid, jealous, live wire called Randy Savage.

Former wrestler Dutch Mantel said it best in an Obituary from The Post and Courier

“When you talked to Macho, you wouldn’t be talking to Randy, and you would know that because Randy was hidden behind all those layers of Macho. And sometimes you’d have to ask yourself if there ever was a Randy there. Even his voice changed.”

Dutch Mantel, quoted in “Macho Man was a True Original”, by Mike Mooneyham. Charleston Post and Courier. May 11 2011

Both Diego and Randy used an alter ego to help their lives. Think of it like playing make-believe so well it really comes true. They could escape reality so long as they had Maradona and Macho Man.

Neither of them made believe on their own. They lived in places that fed their imaginations fuel like spicy tacos in a dragon. Napoli, Italy made Diego an idol, something like a god, and Maradona could handle that in a way Diego couldn’t. To reach the top of Wrestling you had to make believe your character was who you were, all day, every day. People in the stands, the streets, the malls, they wanted Macho Man, not Randy.

They both used drugs to change their points of view (cocaine for Diego, steroids for Randy). But the drugs were another way to escape. More extreme and clearly more dangerous than making believe, but an escape nonetheless.

That’s the line to remember. It isn’t bad to make believe; it’s one of the best things humans can do. But make believe because you want to, not because other people make you, or because you have to in order to escape your regular world.

I love making believe. I love to see you learn how to do it too. Remember: however much fun it is for me to be Papa Tiger or you to be Vacuum Boys, Papa and Alex and Owen are even better.