My Father and Diego Maradona

 This past week the world lost a legend a GOAT in many people’s eyes. In my opinion Diego Maradona was the second greatest football (soccer) player ever only behind Pele. He died at the young age of 60. People lined up for 20 blocks to view him lying in state at the Presidential Palace in Buenos Aires Argentina. 

He grew up poor and was spotted at a young age which led to him playing with Boca Juniors one of the famous clubs in Argentine. He rose quickly through the ranks and eventually played for the National Team and playing in 4 World Cups  1982, 1986, 1990 & 1994.

The 1986 tournament held in Mexico which Argentina won became immortalized for his controversial goal against England in the quarterfinals. The Hand Of God where he deliberately handed the ball claiming it was headed in. It wouldn’t be till 25 years later that he later admitted what really happened. Argentina went on to win their 2nd World Cup  

This was first time my father was intertwined with Maradona. My father was President of the Canadian Soccer Association from 1986-1991. It was also the World Cup where Canada qualified for their one and only time. Canada went winless and goalless, however, acquitted themselves well in 3 close losses to France, Hungary and Russia respectively. 

In 1990 the World Cup was in Italy and my father represented Canada at the FIFA Congress during the tournament. Argentina defending champions lost their opening match and did not lose until the final against West Germany 1-0 on a late penalty. 

At the 1994 World Cup hosted by the United States, my father served as Chair of the FIFA Appeals Committee which was located in Dallas. This was when he became face to face with Diego Maradona. Maradona tested positive after their second game against Nigeria for Ephedrine and his punishment was banishment from the tournament. As Appeals Chair, my father heard the appeal and upheld the decision ousting Maradona from the tournament. 

I sure hope they have reunited and are swapping stories about their lifetime commitment to the beautiful game. They are both 2 of the game’s greatest ambassadors. My father fought for the Women’s game to be on equal footing with the men’s game. Originally, they wanted the women to play with a smaller ball, shorter field and other differences. My father fought for the Women’s Game eventually winning over the soccer superpowers and Canada was looked upon more favourable on the World Soccer Level. 

Who would of thought an Austrian Jew who had his formative school years playing soccer in rural England immigrating to Canada and on a whim when the ref didn’t show up for my brother’s soccer grab his whistle from the car and proceeded to ref the game. Soon after his phone didn’t stop ringing wanting him to get involved which led him to the World stage as an administrator. Diego Maradona grew up poor in the suburbs of Buenos Aires was given a soccer ball at the age of three. By the age of 12 he was displaying mastery with the ball which led him to the world stage and world champion. The Golden Boy. Rest In Power. 

Journey of a Lifetime

 Today is November 11. Remembrance Day in Canada Veterans Day in the States. 75 years ago World War 2 ended and 102 years ago World War 1 ended.  

My father was born an Austrian Jew in Vienna. By the time he was 4 his mother had died and his father was struggling to support and make it on his own supporting a young son. My father was sent to Prague to live with his maternal grandparents. In 1939 with the Germans preparing to roll into Prague, my father was given safe passage at the age of 9 from Vienna to London. This was courtesy of the British Red Cross and a women who would later be his stepmother.  He was part of the Kindertransport. 

He said goodbye to his grandparents clutching a little suitcase in one hand and a stuffed teddy bear in the other as he boarded a train. His grandparents were rounded up by the Germans and perished in an internment camp.

He had to change trains in Germany one to safety the other not,  and then to the port city of Ostend in Belgium to board a ferry for England. The ferry captain didn’t want him to board the ferry even though he had the right documentation.  For fear he would be ward of the state. The fellow ferry passengers vouched for him and he boarded bound for London where he would meet up with his father and stepmother. The irony is that a day earlier his father was on the same ferry. 

My father grew up in rural England was an honours student at Alford school where he excelled at cricket and soccer. He did his stint in the military as a cook at an RAF base. He went on to Oxford and London School of Economics. After college he got a job while completing his doctorate with the British Foreign Service translating captured German war documents. 

He became a history professor teaching at Universities in Australia, England, United States and finally Canada. His area of expertise the era between the two World Wars. He was living history. The experience at age 9 shaped him throughout his life. He learnt how to fend and survive for himself at that early age. I remember auditing one of his history lectures and the students were riveted to his every word. 

In 1999 a reunion for all of Kindertransport children was held in London. My father was reluctant to attend and had to be coaxed into going. The events of this reunion would shape the last few years of my father’s life. He became more in touch with his Jewish heritage. He gave talks throughout the country on anti-semetism. On several occasions he invited me to attend. It was an evening well spent. 

September 11, 2001 was a heavy day for all. He was lecturing and ended up giving his class a lesson about Al-Quida and Bin Laden. That evening I went for a walk and ended up at his place where we talked for hours about the events of the day. The who, what and why. 

On November 16 would be his 91rst birthday. I miss my father every day and knowing he is one of my guardian angels shining down on me. Every year on his birthday and the day he died. I have a glass of single malt and toast him. He loved his scotch. Every November 11 I remember his journey of a lifetime.

I love and miss you Dad. 

Feeling Despondent Yet Hopefully.

 Feeling very low. My depression and anxiety have reach their maximum level. I am so mad right now at our Province and the citizens there of. On September 10 we had 360 cases and 3 people in ICU. On November 10th we have 5390 cases and 30 people in ICU. 

Manitoba we have lost our way. We have become tone deaf to the pandemic in the rush to restart reenergize the economy. Now we have become code red and for how long is anyone’s guess right now. No social distancing. No gyms, rec centres, sporting activities (not that it mattered to me). Only essential businesses open. Line ups at the Liquor stores stretch for blocks. 

Yet schools and daycares are open. Our senior population has become increasingly vulnerable. We have 35 Personal Care Homes in Winnipeg and 24 are reporting outbreaks. There have been multiple deaths at numerous care homes operated by a company for profit out of Ontario. 

I work in health care supervising health care aides in the community. We are working hard to service our clientele in a safe manner. What is a safe manner in this environment. It has been drilled into us not to come to work hen feeling sick. Whenever someone coughs or sneezes at work (yes into our sleeve) everyone goes into panic mode. 

When will it end? Everyone says wait until a vaccine. That will be the game changer. Not entirely masking and social distancing are here for quite awhile. Last weekend an anti mask rally was held in a shopping centre parking lot. Fifty people showed up, the police were at a distance. The attendees covered their license plates. Why? 

I am becoming increasingly despondent with where things are at. Can we find our way. Hopefully, or am I closer to my stepdaughter’s thinking that the apocalypse is close at hand. 

My wife and I have prided ourselves on not turning on each other. We have had our moments. In the end we continue to support and love each other. Our bubble is very secure. All we need is a big bag of popcorn, slurpees and Netflix. We can make the most out of anything. 

Be kind we are all in this together. We can do our part. Stay safe everyone and code red will be over in a couple of weeks. Fingers crossed