That first touch of Lionel Messi. That left-footed strike that went through Harry Souttar’s clumsy legs. That laser-eyed precision to beat Mathew Ryan’s outstretched fists. That scintillating run when he got a decade younger. That pose of the Redeemed Christ when he looks up to the sky to thank his grandmother every time he scores a goal.
Everything Messi did on an electrifying Saturday night wouldn’t need high-definition camera shots to stick in the minds of his fans. The kind of goal he scored against Australia, he’s scored a hundred times in his career. Ball muffled to his left from the right side of the box. Messi gives a beautiful first touch, he is almost always beautiful. He then he shoots into the bottom corner of the far post. How many times have we seen this! How many of us would see this again! But repetition doesn’t make it monotonous; It only enhances the charm and genius of him, each repetition reveals a hidden and unnoticed aspect of him.
There have been better goals in this big goals tournament; there have been better assists and faster first touches, runs and passes, but none of them would be remembered as vividly as those of the Argentine 10. Such is his aura that any party in Argentina has only one protagonist. Messi. Any game in Argentina has a narrative arc. Messi. Perhaps this World Cup itself has a theme. Messi. This World Cup is a set of interconnected Messi events, Messi steps and Messo goals.
The dominant story of the tournament has been the resurgence of mid-tier teams. Messi was also part of that. It all started with Saudi Arabia defeating Messi’s Argentina.
Every time he takes the field in Qatar, the stadium turns into a sea of Messi shirts. Most of the Saudis came with their shirt to witness the greatest triumph in their football history. Many of them cried for Messi when he walked desolate through the tunnel. Messi’s tears were also theirs; his joy was theirs too. No footballer could possibly dictate the mood of a game like Messi, as if he had secret access to his emotional intelligence.
It forces several questions. Has any footballer, or any athlete, given so much pure love? Has the world prayed together for any player to win a World Cup? Have so many tears been shed for a single player? Has any other player given you so much joy?
There are other great players in the World Cup. Cristiano Ronaldo for example; Neymar and Kylian Mbappé too. All with aura and fanfare, but does anyone excite a spectator as much as Messi?
Of course, he is a product of the times, when television is mainstream, when you can stream games on your smartphone, when you watch from leagues anywhere in the world and consume more global football than ever before. The masses have never had so much access to Pelé and Maradona, or Cruyff or Garrincha. Soccer was less of a global sport, the scope limited. But it’s not Messi’s fault. There is something bigger at stake, something that goes beyond the usual connection between players and fans.
It is not that Messi has announced that this would be his last World Cup. It’s not because the most perfect player the world has ever seen should be given the perfect parting gift. It’s because they love it.
Perhaps that would be his greatest legacy when he decides to finish his degree. More than the goals, more than the trophies, more than the World Cup. He made us fall in love with him. He doesn’t get upset when he finds upsets; he unifies a world adrift in a whirlwind of differences. As the united world of FIFA football, Messi could be said to unite the world. It is a universal language that connects people, bonds and makes friends for life.
