The players from both sides came out to warm up.
Diego Maradona was exceptionally flamboyant. He always liked to show off a few tricks while juggling the ball.
"That guy's looking at you, Dejan!"
Pari reminded him.
"Let him look. It's not like looking will do anything," Dejan Lu said with a smile.
"You really don't act like a young man. If it were Roberto, he'd be competing with him in juggling already," Vialli said.
"Sure enough, all humiliation is self-inflicted."
Dejan Lu complained.
Could Roberto Mancini's touch possibly compare to Maradona's?
Mancini was very good, but that depended on who he was being compared to.
San Paolo Stadium.
The name of this stadium carried strong religious connotations. It was Italy's third-largest stadium.
Even so, it could not accommodate every fan.
Cheers. Endless cheers.
The East Germans who had just been "released from prison" found everything fresh and exciting, and the broadcast cameras treated them as the stars of the show.
Gerd Müller took a sip from his cup and immediately wore a satisfied expression.
Beckenbauer could not help frowning as he warned, "Mate, don't become alcohol's prisoner again. No one can save someone who willingly sinks into depravity."
Müller had always had a drinking problem, and it had grown worse after his retirement.
It was Beckenbauer and Hoeness who had suggested bringing Müller back to work at Bayern, and only then had he managed to kick his drinking habit.
"I'm just having a little."
Müller put on an ingratiating expression. "Watching football with so many, uh, fellow countrymen, I have to fit in, right? Look how happy they are."
Beckenbauer said nothing more.
The two of them had not come here today entirely because of football.
Compared to the Germans who kept loudly egging things on, the other fans