Everyone knew going in that Lionel Messi would be the narrative centerpiece of the 2026 World Cup. Easily the most recognized name in the competition, Messi is considered by many to be the greatest soccer player of all time and, as the captain of 2022 winner Argentina, he is the reigning World Cup champ. At 18, he scored his first World Cup goal in 2006 and has competed in every World Cup since. He celebrated his 39th birthday before this year’s knockout rounds began, so it’s not unreasonable to assume that this will be his last.
No matter what Messi did, or failed to do, it would be News. Everyone with even a passing interest in the event knew this. Including me.
But I didn’t expect to completely fall for the guy. He’s a professional male athlete, for heaven’s sake, and I don’t emotionally invest in professional male athletes. Admire some of them, sure; watch with bated breath and then scream in astonishment when they pull off some amazing feat or another, absolutely. But the only athletes that have ever touched my heart have been women — Nadia Comăneci; Billie Jean King and the Title IX-sparking stars of women’s tennis; Dorothy Hamill; Brandi Chastain and 1999 Women’s World Cup winners; Venus and Serena Williams; Simone Biles; Caitlin Clark.
But here I am, at age 62, truly, madly, deeply in love with Lionel Messi.
I know, I know, me and half the world. Which normally would serve as an effective prophylactic. I am habitually wary of super-intense fandoms and the men who inspire them; stadiums filled with people chanting a single name inevitably set off internal alarm bells. As I have asked several times in columns throughout the years, how many “heroes” must we watch falter under pressure or be exposed for decidedly unheroic acts before we wise up and get out of the pedestal-placement business?
Yet here I am, stalking him on Instagram, up all hours flicking through interviews and career highlight clips. (I even watched the Apple TV docuseries “Messi Meets America”!) Here I am, literally praying to God, who clearly has more important things to do, for Argentina to advance and screaming Messi’s name every time he scores, assists or pretty much does anything at all.
In a matter of weeks, I have become addicted not just to watching the man play but seeing how he reacts when a shot is made or a game won.
Every World Cup player is happy when they or their team scores, but Messi is delighted. Like a kid seeing a puppy under the tree on Christmas morning. Like he cannot believe this wonderful thing that has just happened even if he was the one who sweat and ran and defied physics to make it happen.
His smile is infectious and even when he is running toward the stands, arms spread wide, after making some impossible shot or other, it never seems self-congratulatory. He is simply filled with joy and wants to spread it around. The field, the stadium, the world.
And his hugs. Long, deep, radiating emotion, utterly unself-conscious. Everyone needs to find someone who hugs them like Messi hugs people — teammates, coaches, opposing players, young fans. I could watch videos of him hugging his mentor and former teammate Ronaldinho or Argentina coach Lionel Scaloni all day long. (I’m not saying I have, nor am I saying I haven’t.)
Sometimes the hype gets a bit nauseating — former teammates who claim he never makes a mistake, commentators who refer to him as superhuman (despite the fact that he has missed as many penalty kicks as he has made in this World Cup). Whether Messi himself agrees that he is the GOAT is none of my business, but he doesn’t act like many sports stars who have received similar adulation. He doesn’t peacock, he doesn’t preen; he is visibly angry with himself when he doesn’t produce. He isn’t perfect — in various past games, he has gotten into heated disputes and shoving matches and famously (and many believe deservedly) taunted Netherlands coach Louis van Gaal during World Cup 2022. But for a man who has been such a star for so long, he presents himself as simply a player among players. The captain, certainly, but not the most important person on the field.
That is the most lovable, and superhuman, thing about him.
It feels pretty basic, not to mention embarrassing, to have a sudden summer crush on Messi, but I don’t care. He’s married to his childhood sweetheart, has three adorable sons and a picture of his mother tattooed on his back. He lets his teammates hoist him in the air and allows sports commentators to regularly (and lovingly) refer to him as “Little Messi.” He gets angry sometimes, but in this tournament he has yet to noticeably hector the refs or rumble with his opponents. He wants to win, obviously, but his joy comes from playing the game well rather than defeating another team.
That’s why, despite my newfound addiction to Messi delight, the moment I loved him best was when he didn’t celebrate at all. In the round of 32, Argentina (No. 2 in FIFA rankings) seemed guaranteed a win over Cape Verde (67). But even with Messi’s early goal, the game was a nail-biter, with Cape Verde scoring two brilliant goals while their goalie Vozinha made eight saves, including four shots (one of them a free kick) from Messi. After Argentina won in additional playing time, there was none of the usual jubilation. Instead, a subdued Messi walked to the midfield to shake hands with his opponents, a sign of exhaustion, no doubt, but also of respect. He hugged Vozinha and told him that his country should be proud of him.
The exuberance was back Tuesday, however, when, after trailing Egypt for most of the round of 16 game, Argentina managed to pull off the comeback of the tournament, going from a 0-2 deficit to a 3-2 win after the 79th minute, with Messi scoring the tying goal.
This time, the smiles, the hugs, the radiant joy filling Atlanta Stadium could have powered the entire state of Georgia. This time, Messi was so happy, he wept.
So did I. The World Cup is over in less than two weeks, and France and Spain are currently the 1-2 favorites to win the thing. My love for Messi is, after all, just a summer romance.
And as with any summer romance, I want it to last forever.
‘ The preceding article may include information circulated by third parties ’
‘ Some details of this article were extracted from the following source www.latimes.com ’
