If football had a walk of fame, Diego Maradona’s name would be set in gold, glittering under floodlights and flanked by the ghosts of defenders he left trailing in his wake.
Most fans know the iconic chapters — Hand of God, Napoli’s Messiah, Mexico ’86 magic. But between the glory and the decline lies a peculiar, almost forgotten episode: his short, chaotic spell at Sevilla FC.
Which somehow serves at the perfect go-between between these two eras of El Diego.
This wasn’t the Maradona of World Cup triumphs or Neapolitan miracles. This was a different man. One still clutching at greatness, yet increasingly chased by his own demons.
It was 1992, and Diego was 31. Still magnetic, still capable of brilliance — but also battered, bruised, and coming off a 15-month ban for failing a drug test at Napoli. This is the story of how Maradona landed in Andalusia, lit up the Ramón Sánchez Pizjuán, then disappeared as dramatically as he arrived.
I should’ve probably put a spoiler alert somewhere in this intro, but we move…
The Suspended Star
By the time Maradona’s Napoli chapter was unraveling, the writing was on the wall — and it was sprayed in graffiti, lit by flares, and whispered through the streets of Naples.
He had turned a struggling club into Serie A champions. An incredible feet considering the stranglehold enjoyed by the major clubs of Milan and Turin around that time.
But fame, fortune, and infamy brewed a toxic cocktail.
In 1991, Diego failed a drug test — testing positive for cocaine — and was handed a 15-month ban from football. During that time, his personal life teetered. Weight gain, legal troubles, and a fracturing relationship with Napoli’s management and the Italian press turned Diego from deity to tabloid headline. Napoli had moved on. So had Italy.
Diego Maradona needed a fresh start — somewhere sunny, familiar, and forgiving.
Enter Sevilla FC, with a cheeky grin and a twinkle in their eye. And a familiar face…
The Diego Maradona x Carlos Bilardo Reunion
Behind Sevilla’s bold move was Carlos Bilardo, Argentina’s World Cup-winning manager and one of the few people Diego still trusted. And that’s really saying something, by the way.
Bilardo convinced the club that Maradona still had stardust left in him.
Sevilla, no strangers to footballing passion, took the gamble.
And what a start it was.
Maradona arrived in September 1992 to a hero’s welcome. Thousands of Sevillistas flooded the airport and the training grounds, for what they thought would be the ignition point behind taking on Spain’s elite. He brought circus-level attention to the club — and, for a brief moment, delivered.
On his debut in a friendly against Bayern Munich, Diego Maradona scored a cheeky lob, barely looking up before dinking the ball home. He danced past defenders, gestured wildly to the crowd, and looked, just for a heartbeat, like the old magician again. Especially as he dovetailed well with Bilardo’s instruction, who appeared happy to appease his new man’s wishes to bring the best out of him (and the team).
But anyone hoping for a redemption arc was quickly reminded: this was still Maradona. The genius was intact. The chaos? Even more so.
Also, if you’re enjoying this story here on Hobby FC, make sure you click here to be taken to another one of our favourite story pieces. A bit of a different vibe, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it!
Maradona at Sevilla: Fire and Frustration
There were flashes of brilliance — elegant touches, inch-perfect passes, and that familiar low center of gravity that let him glide across the turf.
But there were also long spells of invisibility, moments of laziness, and the growing feeling that his body was no longer in sync with his mind.
In training, he was unpredictable. Stories leaked of him storming out of sessions, clashing with teammates, or simply failing to show up. His relationship with Bilardo soured as the season went on. Once allies, they soon found themselves at odds — with Diego bristling at tactical criticism and Bilardo reportedly fed up with the circus which, given that it was Diego, was absolutely relentless.
But if there was one thing Sevilla fans could count on, it was entertainment.
Whether he was winding up opposition fans, arguing with referees, or trying outrageous flicks on the edge of the box, Diego Maradona brought drama. Against Real Madrid, he played with fire in his boots. Against Barcelona, his old club, he was subdued — yet defiant. And through it all, he made headlines, not always for the right reasons.
Diego’s Divide: Sevilla v Argentina
While Sevilla offered him a lifeline, Maradona’s true loyalties never strayed far from his homeland.
During this time, he often prioritised Argentina’s national team, pushing himself to make friendly appearances and international qualifiers — even when unfit or to the detriment of his recovery.
He once famously clashed with Sevilla’s management over his desire to play in a meaningless friendly for Argentina. He went anyway. And though fans were frustrated, many understood:
Diego had always belonged more to Argentina than any club.
Remember, this was at a time when you couldn’t just go onto SkyScanner (much like I did here) on your smartphone and pick from one of many flights to take you to where you needed to be.
If you wanted to be somewhere, you had to fight tooth and nail to make it happen, often at the expense of any of the rest and convenience that modern travel offers.
His tenure at Sevilla never quite clicked. Teammates admired him — but kept their distance. Fans loved him — but struggled to understand him. The board tried to support him — until they didn’t.
In the end, it was a slow, awkward separation. But probably for the best of everyone involved.
He played just 26 games, scoring 5 goals, before Sevilla released him in June 1993. No farewell tour. No fan tribute. Just a quiet, almost embarrassed exit.
What Did It All Mean?
So how do we view Maradona’s time at Sevilla now?
Some see it as a footnote. A tragicomic detour in a glittering career. But for collectors and fans who cherish the narratives of football, the messy, emotional, imperfect parts — it’s a gem.
There’s something compelling about that lone season. The 1992/93 Sevilla kits, emblazoned with that retro Nike feel and worn by a visibly aging Maradona, are collector catnip. That year became a kind of time capsule — when one of football’s brightest stars gave it one last go in Europe’s limelight.
And a microcosmic reminder of the brilliance and frustration that adorned one of the most stories careers the game of football has ever seen/
It wasn’t about goals. It wasn’t about silverware. It was about myth, drama, and humanity. It was the scene in the film where the hero, past his prime, tries one final act of defiance.
And let’s be honest: there’s something beautifully Maradona about it. He didn’t fade gently into the sunset — he did it with rebellion, noise, and the occasional rocket from 30 yards.
What’s your favourite moment of Diego Maradona at Sevilla?