First he grimaced and fell to the ground. The play continued for a few seconds before a collective gasp erupted.
Lionel Messi is down. And Lionel Messi is not a player who goes down for no reason.
Argentina’s playmaker and talisman clutched his right ankle. He had fallen on his own and knew his evening was over, as there was no clear kick to point to as the cause of the injury.
He took off his right boot and stood up carefully. The physio asked how he was, but they must have known. He walked to the touchline, each step a little dagger in the heart of Argentina. Then the board went up: in came Nicolás González, out came Messi.
Messi walked slowly to the bench and threw his boots on the floor. He sank into the seat and put his face in his hands. His teammate Leandro Paredes ruffled his hair but said nothing. What could he say?
A second or two later, the camera turned back to Messi, zooming in on the most recognizable face in football. Even humanity. And the ruthless Messi could no longer contain his emotions.
The crowd chanted his name. Messi was sobbing.
The tears were for the moment. Argentina needed him. They always have. But it was impossible to abstract from the broader context. For Messi, wherever he walks in this long career outro, there is always an unmistakable sense of finality.
Messi is 37. He confirmed earlier this week that this would be his last competition. The chords around the Argentina camp suggested that it could be his last major tournament. He will be 38 when the next World Cup starts in the United States, Mexico and Canada, and will be 39 during the tournament.
Endless summer days spent watching Messi run around the football pitches of our souls? Now we can count them.
Stopping is not an attractive prospect for any sportsman. It is said that athletes die twice. Messi’s remarkable longevity and continued excellence have been an effective shield against talk of retirement, but no one can run forever. At some point, everything you do becomes the last. Everything is covered with a heavy sense of finality.
Messi certainly seems to have some idea of what awaits him beyond the grave. “I’m a little scared that it’s all over,” he told ESPN Argentina earlier this year. “I try not to think about it. I try to enjoy it. I do that more now because I know I don’t have much time left.”
Here, on a stuffy, tense night at Hard Rock Stadium, he certainly didn’t expect to be denied a portion of his remaining balance. As he sat on the bench, an ice pack on his swollen ankle, a yellow vest covering his blue and white kit, one wondered what was going through Messi’s mind.
(Juan Mabromata/AFP via Getty Images)
Perhaps, at that moment, he simply became a fan. Perhaps the vision of a team without him — an image he would have to become accustomed to for decades to come — twisted his already twisted gut into a new and uncomfortable shape.
After the match, Argentina coach Lionel Scaloni said he did not want Messi to play but his injury made other options meaningless.
“Leo has something that everyone should have,” Scaloni said. “He’s the best in history, and even with a foot like that, he doesn’t want to go out.
“It’s not because he’s selfish, it’s because he doesn’t want to let his teammates down. He was born to be on the pitch.”
At least there was a sense of relief in the end. When Lautaro Martinez scored the winner in Miami four minutes before midnight, it was significant that most players were not around the scorer. No, the Argentine players were flocking to their guide, Messi.
(Juan Mabromata/AFP via Getty Images)
“When you talk about players who have left their mark on football history, we try to extend their careers when the end is in sight,” his Inter Miami coach Tata Martino said recently. “I believe Leo and his family are prepared for when that end comes. It comes to everyone.”
It hasn’t come yet for Messi. He may continue playing in MLS after this injury heals and do his best to help Argentina qualify for the World Cup, but this was the last episode of Messi Does Tournaments and another staging post to The End. The real end. The day when this ridiculous, magical, laughable little fairy footballer passes into the past tense.
“I’m lucky to be doing something I’m passionate about,” Messi said in an Apple documentary about his American adventure. “I know this is my last year, and I know I’m going to miss it so much without it. No matter how many things I find myself doing, it’s never going to happen.”
There may never be another grand final, there may never be another night like this. A vivid and glorious night for his country. So he cried long before he could celebrate. You can understand.
(Top photo: Juan Mabromata; Buda Mendez; Chandan Khanna/AFP via Getty Images; Design: Ray Orr)
