Argentina lost to Brazil last night in the semi-final match of the Copa América. For some quick background, the Copa América is South America’s most prestigious and long-standing tourney—it’s been going since 1916. (It predated the World Cup, which started in 1930.) The timing of the cup has changed over the years. Most recently it had been held every 2 years, but starting in 2020, it’ll be held every 4 years. So we get 2 years in a row (2019 and 2020), but then the 3-year-drought begins. Starting in 2020, the cup will be aligned with the UEFA Euro Championships (arguably the biggest deal in international football competition across the pond). 

Argentina. I don’t know how one damned team can break your heart again and again (and again and again, ad infinitum), but such is the life of a sports aficionado. Argentina. The damned country picked me, and since 1999 I’ve been unable and unwilling to escape its grips—through thick and thin, failure and rebuilding, financial crises, political crises, wins, losses and more losses. (I bitch and moan, but I’m not even from there, so the duration of my heartache is brief in comparison with regard to fútbol.) Boca Juniors is my club team in Buenos Aires, although I haven’t been the best follower as access to games is limited by my unwillingness to pay for cable or other streaming services on a regular basis. [And btw, this year’s Copa and Women’s World Cup is brought to me by FuboTV’s monthly subscription, complete with DVR capabilities.]

If you pay any attention to soccer (or even if you don’t), you’ve probably heard of Lionel Messi. He’s Argentina’s reluctant superstar. Messi. Messy, Messi. The dude can’t catch a break. Seriously, if you Google “Messi disappointment” or anything similar, you’ll find a slew of pics and articles on the topic. There are literally video compilations people have made of his greatest failures and worst moments with the Argentine National team. Just what you’d always hope for in life, right? No, it’s soul-crushing! And it’s not like he’s a bad player—quite the contrary! Look at the dude’s stats from his time with FC Barcelona—one of the top club teams in the world!

Satisfied? Not yet? Well then look at Wikipedia’s opening sentences on the dude (bold is my doing):

Lionel Andrés Messi Cuccittini (born 24 June 1987) is an Argentine professional footballer who plays as a forward and captains both Barcelona and the Argentina national team. Often considered the best player in the world and widely regarded as one of the greatest players of all time, Messi has a record-tying five Ballon d'Or awards, four of which he won consecutively, and a record six European Golden Shoes. He has spent his entire professional career with Barcelona, where he has won a club-record 34 trophies, including ten La Liga titles, four UEFA Champions League titles and six Copas del Rey. A prolific goalscorer and a creative playmaker, Messi holds the records for most goals in La Liga (419), a La Liga and European league season (50), most hat-tricks in the UEFA Champions League (8), and most assists in La Liga (169) and the Copa América (11). He has scored over 695 senior career goals for club and country.

But. Full stop.

But, when this poor man plays for his country of birth, Argentina, the stats look a little different:

One international title. One. And almost as many games lost and tied combined, than won. The bottom line? No matter what he does in life, it’s never going to be enough for his country (short of a World Cup win). And no matter what he does for FC Barcelona, it’s all gold and roses. And that, side-by-side, is enough to crush a man with an Argentine soul and passport (despite a deep love for his adopted country, Spain). 

Why do all the hopes of Argentina’s 44.5 million people ride on him? Messi is not the messiah. And yet, hope springs eternal. Every time I watch a game, even I, fully participate in and perpetuate his slow crucifixion on the international stage. But hope for a hero never dies. It’s as if we say, “Messi our savior, come rescue us from the dreary clutches of loss and anonymity.” The whole savior thing... it’s real, and perhaps insane, but it persists through humanity and across time—as long as there exists a person with a beating heart, there is hero worship.

I think it all comes down to the human heart. You’ve heard the saying “the heart wants what the heart wants.” I believe we’re wired to worship. Although, I think it gets all confused and effed up at times. We misplace our hope and trust and dive all in. And in many ways, I think we’re meant to go all in… that it speaks to the fullness of life… to living whole-heartedly. I’m purposefully not delving into God, religion, a higher power, spirituality, etc., but I know many of us believe it’s at the crux of the matter. It’s the elephant in the blog, the undercurrent of this whole discussion. Maybe it’s a cop-out to leave the elephant right there, but I’m OK with that right now because otherwise, we’d be off and running on a whole other post.

When I’m not busy rooting for Argentina, Georgetown basketball or the NY Giants (all had their day in the sun and then crashed hard), I’m usually rooting for the underdog. Why? Because eff the establishment! The underdog. How many stories capture our hearts that way? Dammit, Rudy, why do you make me tear up? What is it about the underdog? I think it’s tied to our seemingly obsessive need to hero-worship. We’re all about the hero... until the hero becomes established and arrogant. Then we’re looking for the underdog to rise, be the hero, and replace the establishment. I think that covers the entire Old Testament actually… king after king after king after king. 

For me, there’s something about wanting that mountain-top-experience to be shared. I want the “little guys” to experience it, to know it, and to live it. I want it to be spread around. It’s not healthy for one person or team to hold on to glory year after year after year. And in fact, it’s not even possible unless your last name happens to be Castro or Kim, which makes you a dictator. (Sorry other Castros and Kims—I hope you know my intent is to exclude you). There’s some kind of inherent decline that goes on. You can’t have 20 straight seasons of your favorite TV show. It’s not sustainable. You can’t have 97 Harry Potter books. They’d suck and ruin him. Just as they did to Maradona. Just as we’re trying our best to do to Messi.

Argentina is a tough case. Before Messi, they had the superstar Diego Maradona (80s-90s). They had him and he soared. And crashed. I’m not up to speed on his life story, but I know it involved cocaine and alcohol in abundance during and post stardom. This also came complete with millions owed in taxes to Italy, the country to which he fled to escape some backlash and some serious health scares. Maradona was a #10. He had his infamous (and controversial) “Hand of God” goal in that jersey in the 1986 World Cup match final against England. You can watch it here. The #10 jersey is kind of a big effing deal (BFD) and it’s had a hell of a ride. Think of the Brazilian great Pelé. He’s tops. We talked about Maradona briefly; he rocked it for years. Another Brazilian great, Ronaldinho, more recently passed it directly to his FC Barcelona teammate Lionel Messi in 2008.

In more ways than I think Messi would like to count, he’s been compared to Maradona. They both had career break-outs at age 16. They’re both on the on the shorter side (yes, even their stature is a basis of comparison and a running topic of conversation). If we were to look purely at stats, we’d find that Messi has far surpassed Maradona in every way. But, then you hear this opinion: “The ultimate test of a football player is to win the World Cup for their country, Maradona did it, and Messi has not. There is no bigger justification that Maradona is superior to Messi in all respect.” You don’t have to agree with it. I don’t. But I get that there’s something there. Messi’s relationship with his country is complicated. And as much as he tries, he still hasn’t fully captured their hearts. It’s got to be hard to live with that.

When Messi’s happy, he radiates (left). When he’s sad or frustrated, it’s kind of heartbreaking (right). And look at the jerseys below—right side = happy killing it for FC Barcelona, left side = tears as he loses with the Argentine national team. (I’m obviously biased because I think he’s adorable with all the heart emojis, but still.)

So maybe today’s headline is inevitable after last night’s shutout in the semi-finals… “Messi’s Curse with Argentina Continues”. But dammit, I don’t care. That guy’s got a lot of class. A lot of talent. And even if he goes out without a second international major win for his homeland, the dude is unarguably a legend. Just a man. Messy and human. Not a messiah, but also a legend. And I think that’s a really tough jersey to wear. No matter what the number.

Thoughts? Corrections? Clarifications? Additions? Hit me up in the comments below.