DIEGO MARADONA'S genius, as we all know, was encapsulated in one Mexican afternoon in 1986, when he scored twice to put England out of the World Cup. It's one of the few games where you can refer to both that goal and that goal. Genius was evident in his slalom through the white shirts for his second, but it was the first that marked him as someone who would become a legend.

First of all, it was against England. He could not have chosen a more generally disliked side in world football to cheat against. If Argentina had been playing a Brazilian side in their pomp, or one of the Cameroons or South Koreas of this world, would the incessant replays be greeted with the same snigger from most of the world's population?

Brazil's Rivaldo never really recovered in the public eye from his sniper-victim reaction to a ball thrown at his legs by a Turkish player in the last World Cup.

That was somehow more cynical though, and less consequential, as everyone asked, 'why did he have to do that?'. Maradona managed to paint his transgression of the rules as some sort of manifest destiny, revenge for Las Malvinas. It was also the sheer daftness of the goal, an unusually short and squat man leaping and fisting the ball past a flailing six-foot Shilton. When he called it the hand of God, it was almost believable.

When Gary Lineker met Maradona on BBC1 on Tuesday night, the English talking heads lined up to tell us that Diego had cheated. Good work folks, anyone with two eyes and a basic grasp of the rules of soccer can clearly see that he cheated, and got away with it. Build a bridge. It wasn't the only thing he got up to over the years.

Lineker arrived in Buenos Aires to find Maradona playing in a five-a-side masters-type game against Brazil. For those of us who had seen the images of less than a year and a half ago, when he seemed to be permanently in front of a fairground mirror, it was heartening to see him getting stuck in to tackles rather than sugary treats.

Years of binging and cocaine abuse meant he reached almost 20 stone at one stage and had his stomach stapled in an attempt to survive. Two heart attacks later, the Maradona that Lineker met in his home was relatively healthy looking, not far off the stockiness of his playing career. His face did show some of what he's put himself through, but his disposition was sunny enough to compensate.

The ego was in check too, with recollections as mature as English cheddar. No, the goal wasn't scored by the hand of God, it was me. I got away with it. Whaddya gonna do? He clearly recognised his audience, considering that his biography for the domestic market had more bombast than a fleet of attack helicopters stocked with the complete works of Wagner. It must be the media work, with his show, La Noche del 10 (The night of the 10) proving the biggest ratings winner on Argentine TV, like Podge and Rodge but with less subtlety.

TG4 should maintain their excellent tradition of getting in there first by buying the rights and putting this on for the post-pub crowd. Full of the common excesses of South American TV (dancing girls, reality TV, dancing girls, ad break, head tennis, more dancing girls) it has featured a guest list that ranged from Pele to Fidel Castro via Robbie Williams. Parkinson, get off the stage.

At home, Diego seemed contented, happy with his lot in life and full of appreciation for a second shot at it.

Not that he had been lobotomised by rehabilitation. He still maintained a glint of madness while Lineker played the straight man of the odd couple, mildly embarrassed but happy to offer a few goofy quips to the camera at his side.

Maradona brought him to a Boca Juniors game, his home town club of which he is honorary president. In his corporate box on the halfway line, he went as mental as any other fan in a blue and yellow jersey around the stadium.

They, in turn, sang as many songs to him as they did to the players on the pitch.

It was difficult to imagine Lineker swinging out of the rafters of the Walkers Stadium and hugging strangers during a win over Walsall.

It was all very endearing. Maradona remains the Boca boy who has managed to drag himself back from the brink. He does genuinely have God-like status in his home town, but he lives relatively modestly with his mum and his family, more darts player than deity.

When he was reportedly on the verge of death not long ago, we shook our heads and spoke again of the payoff that all who have touched genius are held to. It would be something else for somebody to break that stereotype.

Surely there's no better man to cheat fate.