One day, the lights on the pitch turn on, the stands fill up, and thousands of people roar; but he no longer steps onto the turf in that jersey. That is when one must realise the man is gone; but his story remains behind.
Lionel Messi’s story, too, feels much like this.
On Monday, he announced his retirement from the national team. Messi will no longer play for Argentina! It is a long-expected, inevitable moment—yet how astonishing it feels nonetheless!
Argentina’s jersey Number 10 was never just a jersey. For two decades, it was a second skin clinging to a man’s body. It was an entire nation’s dreams, rage, pride, love, and tears.
That has changed as of today. Messi wrote that this decision has pained his soul. He wrote that he has nothing more to give.
What an extraordinary sentence!
The boy who was once told that the Messi of his club and the Messi of his country were not the same—that very boy, after laying down everything for his homeland, now says: “I have nothing left to give.”
Perhaps there truly is nothing left. Because this story did not begin with attainment; it began with the anguish of unfulfillment.
2.
A teenager in an Argentine jersey announced to the world for the first time that when the ball is at his feet, time slows down just a little.
Yet Messi’s path at the senior international level was never easy. In those days, Argentina meant Maradona. And Messi? He was branded Maradona’s successor. What an intimidating burden of an identity!
A nation had waited 28 years. And one man stood at the very threshold of the greatest dream of his life. But the door did not open. Germany won. Messi stood holding the Golden Ball.
To some, it would be a badge of pride. But for Messi, it became a kind of curse.
He scored goals, provided assists, tore through defences, and single-handedly turned matches around. Still, the question lingered: where is the club’s Messi? Why isn't he the same in his country’s colours?
Then came 2014. Brazil. The World Cup final. The Maracanã.
A nation had waited 28 years. And one man stood at the very threshold of the greatest dream of his life. But the door did not open. Germany won. Messi stood holding the Golden Ball.
Fireworks all around, German jubilation. And off to one side stood a small man, in whose eyes there was only one question: “How much further must I go before I am enough for my country?”
3.
Then it happened twice more.
2015. The Copa América final. Defeat to Chile. Messi missed his penalty in the shoot-out.
Then 2016. The Copa América final once again. Chile again, a shoot-out again. Defeat again. This time Messi wept. So broken was he that he declared his departure from the national team.
Consider that. The world’s greatest footballer, who had won virtually everything possible in club football; yet he possessed not a single major trophy with his country. And that void seemed to diminish all his achievements in the eyes of Argentina.
And when the final whistle blew, Messi dropped to the turf. Tears in his eyes, hands over his face. Teammates rushed in from all sides. And for a few seconds, it felt as though the heaviest man on Earth had suddenly become the lightest.
At the time, perhaps Messi did not realise that some stories take a very long time to write their endings. That some individuals must be broken many times over before they can become legends.
4.
Then arrived 2021. The Maracanã once more, Brazil once more. Another final. This time it was neither Germany nor Chile; this time the opponent was Brazil. Once again, an entire nation looked towards that little number 10.
And when the final whistle blew, Messi dropped to the turf. Tears in his eyes, hands over his face. Teammates rushed in from all sides. And for a few seconds, it felt as though the heaviest man on Earth had suddenly become the lightest.
Argentina were champions; Messi was a champion. At long last.
The accusation that had hovered over him for so long—that he had won nothing for his country—died forever that day.
Yet the story was not over. For Destiny, it seemed, had scripted an even grander scene for Messi.
5.
Then Qatar, 2022. The World Cup. It opened with a defeat to Saudi Arabia.
Then, one after another: Mexico, Poland, Australia, the Netherlands, Croatia. And with every match, Messi seemed to defy age itself. A 35-year-old man carried the dreams of an entire nation upon his shoulders.
Then the final—France awaiting on the other side. Argentina hungered for the World Cup after 36 years. Messi’s final World Cup.
Mbappé on one side, Messi on the other. 2–0. 2–2. 3–3. Then the penalty shoot-out. A match so dramatic that had a writer penned it, readers would have called the plot unrealistically melodramatic!
Yet football wrote an unbelievable tale that day. In its closing scene, Messi held the World Cup aloft under the sky of blue and white, a golden crown resting upon his head.
The most beautiful part is that he stayed even after losing. He returned even after being humiliated. He put the shirt back on even after shedding tears. He returned even after announcing his retirement.
As he lifted that trophy, he was not merely hoisting silverware; he was lifting 20 years of humiliation. He was lifting the tears of 2014. He was lifting the missed penalty of 2015. He was lifting the broken heart of 2016. He was lifting all those nights when he was told, ‘You have won nothing for your country.’
That day, no one had anything left to say. Messi was a world champion; Argentina were world champions.
And football, at long last, completed its unfinished masterpiece.
6.
Then 2024. Another Copa América, another final, another trophy. This time, no one questioned what Messi had done for his country. Because there was simply nothing left to question.
A World Cup, two Copa América titles, an Olympic gold medal. The captain of a world-champion Argentina. The standard-bearer of a generation’s dreams. Yet the most beautiful aspect of Messi’s story is perhaps not the trophies.
The most beautiful part is that he stayed even after losing. He returned even after being humiliated. He put the shirt back on even after shedding tears. He returned even after announcing his retirement.
Because he understood that one cannot run from certain loves. Argentina was precisely that kind of love.
7.
Then 2026. Another World Cup. Messi in that shirt for the final time. On the World Cup pitch for the final time. Wearing the number 10 for the final time. And destiny seemed to say, “No, this time too, the story will not be easy.”
Argentina reached the final against Spain. And that very match became Messi’s last for the national team. Argentina lost. The dream ended in a final once more. But this time, the tears carried a different meaning.
In 2014, he wept because he could not win the World Cup. In 2026, he wept because he knew there would be no second chance to return. After the final whistle, he would never again play a World Cup match for Argentina.
Never again would the camera turn to his face during the national anthem before a final. Never again would that familiar chant echo from the stands: ‘Mes-si! Mes-si!’
It has ended. It has truly ended.
8.
Messi’s final chapter ended in defeat. But is Messi’s story one of defeat?
No, absolutely not. Because some men prove their greatness through trophies. And others prove their greatness by how many times they can fall down and rise back up again. Messi belongs to the second group.
He taught us that talent can make a person great; but love makes a person legendary. And his love for Argentina was impossibly deep. So deep that even in the moment of retirement he says, “I thank God for making me an Argentine.”
He says that from now on, he will be just like anyone else, sitting outside and supporting Argentina. In good times, and even more so in bad times.
What an extraordinary farewell!
9.
Perhaps one day, many years from now, a child will step onto the pitch wearing the Argentine jersey. Upon their back will be the number 10. They may not even know how heavy that number once weighed. Perhaps they will be told—this number was once given to a man. A thin, quiet, shy boy. Who once left for Barcelona. Who lost with his national team. Who wept, who retired. Who returned, and lost again.
Then one day, he won it all. The World Cup, the Copa América. The love of millions.
The very Argentina that once questioned him came to love him like a god.
That is Messi’s greatest victory.
10.
Dear Leo,
Like the Argentines, many of us lack the words to bid you farewell.
Because farewells are meant only for those who leave. You are going nowhere.
You will remain in that first goal of 2007. You will remain in the tears of the Maracanã in 2014. You will remain in those heartbreak finals of 2015 and 2016. You will remain in that tear-stained smile of 2021. You will remain in that image of lifting the World Cup in 2022. You will remain in that second Copa in 2024.
And you will remain in that final night of 2026, too—the day you lost.
Yet in truth, you never lost. Messis never lose.
Farewell, Leo.