'I witnessed Maradona's Hand of God' - a goal still talked about 40 years on

I turned to the man next to me, a bit confused. "Porque tanto alboroto [what happened]?" I asked. He said Maradona had punched the ball into the net with his hand but the referee didn't see it, and allowed the goal.

I was puzzled and at that moment I certainly never thought that what we had just seen would become one of the most talked about events in sporting history.

In time, it became known globally as the "Hand of God" incident - coined by Maradona himself: "[The goal was scored] a little bit with my head and a little bit with the hand of God," he famously said.

But so intense was the debate in the stands that day about what we had just seen that, four minutes later when the next goal game from Maradona, we almost missed it.

And here's the thing. When I think back to being one of thousands of people in the stadium that day, it's not the "Hand of God" that I immediately recall - it was that second goal. Unlike Maradona's first spectacle, the whole stadium went quiet when he was charging forward with the ball.

He began in his own half with a pirouette to escape the attention of two England players, then you could see him advancing up the pitch, weaving from one side to the other, eluding tackles, then into England's penalty box and then - boom! The ball in the back of the net. The stadium exploded.

I remember thinking: "This is why people love football - now it makes sense."

I looked around and was amazed to see that, unlike the first goal, this one was celebrated by everyone, even some of the English fans nearby.

After the game ended with the now famous 2-1 Argentinian victory, my mother and I left the stadium and walked towards our car.

At that moment, what stayed with me wasn't the match but the overwhelming feeling of having been inside the Azteca itself - this vast, iconic place that carried so much of Mexico's history within its walls. It wasn't just a stadium; it was part of our collective memory.

Even then, the echoes of the 1985 earthquake, when whole sections of Mexico City were reduced to rubble, were still vivid for me - the weeks when the air smelled of dust and loss, and the city seemed to hold its breath. I knew that the Azteca had been one of the great places of refuge, where families who had lost everything found shelter and hope. Being there felt deeply moving, almost solemn, and yet outside it transformed into something joyful and alive.

As my mum and I walked, talking and eating tacos and fruit drenched in chilli and lime from street vendors, we felt immense pride in being Mexican. We laughed about how we embraced every stereotype - the sombreros, bright colours, all of it worn with humour and defiance, and how, as hosts, we gave warmth, laughter and generosity to the world.

Even the World Cup mascot, a chilli pepper with a sombrero, seemed to capture that spirit perfectly - bold, playful, and unmistakably ours.

It was only years later that I understood that I had witnessed a truly magical moment. Football itself never really became that exciting for me, even after being at that game, but that particular moment has stayed with me.

Yes, the first goal was controversial, and enraged many - not just around me that day but in England and all over the world for many years.

When I subsequently lived and worked in Argentina, people regularly brought up the Hand of God, and my Argentinian friends never missed an opportunity to mention it to my English colleagues.

But this is to forget that the second goal was just spectacular - almost unbelievable if I hadn't seen it with my eyes.

Personally, I would be much keener to boast about that one.