IN the 1995-hit Batman Forever, The Riddler and an edgy Two-Face wait for Batman’s arrival. When Batman does make the dramatic entry from the Gotham skylight, The Riddler remarks to Two-Face matter-of-factly, “Your entrance was good, but his was better. The difference: showmanship.”

Different disciplines of sport have had different showmen from time-to-time. Love them or hate them, they’re there, staring right back at you, giving you everything, holding back nothing. It’s not for the stone to cry. Likewise, it’s hard to love someone stoic, without character, without the display of emotion, without the vein burst in the head. For, sport is the one true test of human emotions — each and everyone of them.

It doesn’t take an Argentinian to love and loathe Maradona at the same time. You grew up listening to stories about the Hand of God, the marijuana, and the weight issues, and were spellbound by Maradona’s past, his present and his excesses. Maradona’s story, one about the rise of a street urchin to one of the most recognisable names in the world of football, was captivating — one that would more often than not trigger off lengthy debates. He won one World Cup and was shamefully shown the door in another after testing positive for cocaine. And then there was the 2010 World Cup, where Maradona re-emerged, much to our utter joy, to lead a squad of 23 men to glory that wasn’t to be. And as in the past, manager Maradona had us eating out of his palms.

This one showman had the ability to provoke fans into a mass hysteria of adulation then, and continues still to have a hold on us. You wouldn’t miss an Argentina match just to watch El Diego’s antics on the sidelines — the hugs, the kisses and the misses. The boisterousness of the package that is pint-sized Maradona is part of the mysticism, the enigma. Brazilian manager Dunga in comparison looked pale and cold. But why single out Dunga alone when the same can be said about most other managers at the 2010 World Cup? If any other manager could equal Maradona in passion — and far more tactical than Maradona — that would most certainly be the ‘Special One’, Jose Mourhino. The eccentric manager, who prefers to coach major clubs over nations, is a whole different story, but a great showman nonetheless.

If you hadn’t heard, with the stadiums in South Africa not doing very good business, some wise man had the idea of selling tickets for the pre and post-match press conferences. With Maradona’s panache for saying anything and everything at the briefings — (“I’m not gay, ask Veronica” and “All those who doubted the Argentines, off with your pants”) — it didn’t take much to see the business sense in it. All this is and much more is probably what makes Pele’s skin crawl. The two greats have probably agreed to disagree for life. But that’s what is alluring.

Had cricket not had its hat doff-ing, poker-playing, womanising spin wizard in Shane Warne, the game would have been different. Unpalatable, maybe. Had tennis not produced theatrical and belligerent geniuses in John McEnroe and Marat Safin it would have been such a constant, insipid graph.