Win or lose the World Cup final, Messi’s legacy is complete

What is your greatest, most enduring source of happiness? For me, it is watching Lionel Messi play football. What used to be an embarrassing confession in my teenage years has become a badge of pride in my 20s. Because while I have enjoyed the beauty of Messi’s transcendental talent for almost two decades, it is only in the last few years that I have come to understand it differently. 

Earlier, Messi’s magic would keep me awake all night, make me jump and dance around my room, and get triggered the moment anybody questioned his relative supremacy. Nowadays, it still keeps me awake all night, but it also makes me realise that certain things in life must be experienced for their own sake, without the apprehension of before and after. Like a picturesque sunset, Messi’s footballing art is the perfect confluence of time and space. Like an exquisite fondant cake, Messi’s game is intricately layered, each element leaving its own aftertaste. Like a favourite passage from a favourite novel, Messi’s exploits resonate universally, yet feel intimate. When Messi plays, we all win.

Messi’s national duty has become his personal destiny

Does Messi really need to win the World Cup? Does football really owe him one? Increasingly, both questions feel rather futile to me. Heading into Qatar, I hoped, like millions of others, that Argentina could go all the way. As the weeks passed, I began to believe they can (at one stage because of, not despite, Saudi Arabia). Now, on the cusp of the final against the irrepressible defending champions in France, I know that Argentina can hold the World Cup aloft. But does it really matter? Should one result get to define what one man has conjured for a generation and more? The record keepers and the romantics will have different answers. I am firmly camped with the latter.

There is a feeling that Sunday’s final marks the culmination of Messi’s story. That the man burdened with giving Argentina their third World Cup is now tasked with offering himself the most glorious sendoff. Messi’s national duty has become his personal destiny. Such a narrative assumes that once the referee’s whistle blows thrice at the self-proclaimed “Iconic” stadium in Doha, Messi’s final chapter would be one of regret or redemption. That is not how I see it. 

The way Messi has performed in Qatar is proof enough of his salvation. In 2014 in Brazil, Messi had led Argentina to a World Cup final for the first time in his illustrious career. In spite of scoring four goals and winning the Golden Ball, Argentina’s saviour had seemed subdued, a genius in need of a genie. That genie and Messi himself have been liberated this time around. On the back of his first two senior international titles with Argentina over the last two years, Messi has operated with a vigour that has eluded him at past World Cups. That alone has vindicated his last dance for me. For a man accused of lacking leadership by everyone from Diego Maradona to his own grandfather, Messi has led with aplomb over the last month. And not just with his stirring goals or his splendid assists. But with his voice, his gestures, his sheer presence. 

Can Messi’s farwell final be a fairytale just like Tendulkar’s?

Winning the World Cup for Messi is not about proving anything to anyone anymore. Those who feel his GOAT status hinges on another 90 minutes may never be convinced. Instead, winning the World Cup for Messi is about giving all his admirers (and himself) one more bout of pure joy. Perhaps the one that lasts the longest. One that goes beyond statistics, debates and justifications and celebrates the man for who he is — a harbinger of happiness, a vicarious vessel through which to chase and touch one’s own dreams.

The anticipation around the final and a potential Messi victory has no parallel in modern sport. Except perhaps (in a more limited context) in the swansong of another diminutive number 10 in a sky blue shirt. Albeit on a different kind of field. Just like Messi, Sachin Tendulkar lost a World Cup final (in 2003) despite being the tournament’s best player. Eight years later, he was there again, and this time he prevailed, sending a billion and more into instant ecstasy. Eight years after misery at the Maracana, the same arc could be Messi’s on Sunday. 

When Messi graces the grandest occasion of the game one last time, I want my focus to be solely on him

Since July 13, 2014, I have actively avoided watching any highlights of the World Cup final in Rio between Argentina and Germany. Even those that would pop up as 30 seconds of trauma on Instagram. But the key moments from that game are still etched in my mind. The golden chance spurned by Gonzalo Higuain, the no-penalty following Manuel Neuer’s challenge on Higuain, Messi slashing wide of Neuer’s goal from a tailor-made opportunity, and of course, Mario Gotze’s stab of a strike in extra time that caused so many hearts, including mine, to bleed.

But there was one more major moment from the final that I had forgotten, perhaps even repressed for all these years. One which Messi reminded me of by virtually recreating it in this edition’s semi-final against Croatia. Receiving the ball near the halfway line, Messi took on the outstanding defender of the tournament, dribbled on his outside channel for a few yards, slowed down as if to pass, before putting on the afterburners once more to slither away and produce a cut-back from the byline for a teammate to tap in. Back in 2014, the defender was Germany’s Mats Hummels. Last Tuesday, the defender was Croatia’s Josko Gvardiol. Back in 2014, Messi’s pass was intercepted and cleared by the German defence. Last Tuesday, it was side-footed into the net by Julian Alvarez.

I mention this because it is quite likely that Messi will produce something similar in the final against France. A moment to light up the brightest stage. And irrespective of whether it ends in a clearance or a goal, I want to enjoy it — every step, every twist, every turn. Something I had failed to do in 2014. I want to witness the 2022 World Cup final with the sole intention of enjoying it. I want to see the ball obey Messi like a lifelong pet when under his spell and not worry about where it lands once it is caressed by his boot. I want to see Messi run in full flight and relive the thrill of order emerging out of chaos, no matter the final pass, shot or tackle. I want to see Messi prowl and ponder, search and seek, glare and glide. Without caring for what he finds or what finds him. 

On Sunday, when Messi graces the grandest occasion of the game one last time, I want my focus to be solely on him. Not his vociferous teammates, not his formidable opponents, not even the magnificent trophy looming larger than them all. In doing so, come the end of the final, Messi may or may not have his World Cup. But I would have my happiness.