On Sunday, spectators were given an unconstrained glimpse into the mind of Lionel Messi, a footballer whose cryptic statements and enigmatic private life only add to his magical legend.
Messi’s a consummate professional, dedicated to the game on an otherworldly level. Argentina’s crushing defeat to Chile in the 2016 Copa America Centenario final gave proof to his wholehearted devotion to the cause.
After the match, a disconsolate Messi told reporters, “I tried my hardest. It’s been four finals, and I was not able to win. I tried everything possible. It hurts me more than anyone, but it is evident that this is not for me.”
Winning is for Messi; being the world’s greatest is for Messi. Second place? Absolutely not.
As often as Messi is portrayed as the more humble, down to earth superstar (particularly when in comparison with Cristiano Ronaldo) of his generation, one does not win the Ballon d’Or five times without being, in some sense, utterly self-centered.
When Messi is playing for Barcelona this obvious truth is just less often on exhibit. Take, for example, the Gatorade ad campaign that focuses on Messi’s play with the Catalan giants. The campaign focuses on Messi’s reluctance to ever fall to the floor or to dive. This sort of play has become synonymous with Messi and has earned him countless plaudits.
The Camp Nou crowd can be heard chanting his name, exonerating the deliverer of eight La Liga titles, four Copa del Reys and four UEFA Champions League crowns. Playing with Barcelona is for Messi, La Masia is in his DNA.
With Argentina, the narrative changes. The pressure of four finals lost seems to have prematurely sunk Messi’s international career. The veritable depression Messi experiences with La Albiceleste permeates through his mind and play.
Have we seen the last of Messi with Argentina? Photo: @HTSportsNews | Twitter
On Sunday, Messi went to the greatest of extremes to finally achieve victory with Argentina — he took a dive. Messi hurtled himself into the Chilean box appealing for anything, a supplication to the footballing powers to end the anguish.
You could argue that Messi simply lost his balance, but the way he contorts his body, throws himself to the ground and looks at the referee certainly screams simulation.
It’s not the first time Messi has resorted to such tactics with Argentina, but who can blame him?
Messi’s hurt is comprehensive, it’s led to discomforting soul-searching that's yielded this explanation for calling it quits: “For me, the national team is over. . .I think this is best for everyone. First of all for me, then for everyone. I think there’s a lot of people who want this, who obviously are not satisfied, as we are not satisfied reaching a final and not winning it. It’s very hard, but the decision is taken. Now I will not try more and there will be no going back.”
He’s the captain of the side and the greatest footballer alive, which has directly led to a section of Argentine supporters and media consistently berating him under the most intense of microscopes. There’s no cure for that. Messi has been led to believe that his attempts with Argentina have been nothing other than a stain upon the history of the two-time World Cup and 14-time Copa America champions.
In retrospect, Messi’s time with the national team has been one of the greatest sporting tragedies of all-time, a persistent national pessimism, bordering on the comedic, resulting in a lack of belief in one of the only real truths in modern football: that of the greatness of Messi.
Follow me on Twitter: @ConmanFleming
