Overwhelmed by an unusual fate in the blue sky of Doha. Lina Werthmüller would perhaps call it like this, the film shot in the last three weeks in the stadiums of Qatar, starring Lionel Messi and Kylian Mbappé, and of which the last take is being shot today, the one that gives meaning, direction, raison d’être to the whole story which also – fruitful paradox of sport, and also of life – up to now and even after will not remain empty and in vain even for the loser, because in any case every written page has a meaning, every step taken an orientation and a destination.
He slept in a room with his friend and companion of many vigils, Lionel Messi, that Kun Aguero with whom he shared a life and a career, from the Albiceleste youth team, to three World Cups (2010, ’14 and ’18) up to the last America’s Cup won in Brazil last year, in full pandemic, in an (almost) empty Maracana, which will be counterbalanced today by the roar of the 90 thousand of the Lusail Stadium. That Kun who at Barcelona should have inherited certainly not the symbolic role, but at least the technical one, if it hadn’t been for heart problems to stop him, and force him to say goodbye to football, but not to a national team in which coach Scaloni has still wanted as an external support. Who knows how Leo and the Kun will have lived it this eve, if they spoke intensely and in whispers until dawn remembering the beginnings, exploits and dreams of children; or maybe turning off the light early, being satisfied with shared sleep, with shared looks, breaths and silences, a feeble and at the same time robust embankment to the memory of another eve, that of the final in another Maracana, that time filled to capacity, in 2014, but which rewarded Germany and shattered the world dream of an entire generation of Argentines.
How much has changed in Leo Messi’s life and career since then: La Pulce who in that World Cup scores his four (decisive) goals in the first round, but then gets stuck in the knockout stage, eroded by a tension that leads him to having retching directly on the pitch which further attracts the spasmodic attention of the media to him; then lost the America’s Cups, the legend of Maradona that seems elusive, the eternal love sworn to Barcelona that experiences the first tears, fades even in the midst of other successes but also defeats, the sirens inspired by Pep Guardiola who call him towards Manchester, City side, the break with the Catalans via telegram, the fragile recomposition and the sensational farewell to move – not without the ritual tears to Paris Saint Germain branded Qatar, to form with Neymar and Mbappe himself the trio of phenomena who now wants to bring the Champions League so far in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower always escaped. The first season in Paris then, seems to be that of decline, of a melancholic Leo unable not only to immerse himself in his new life (which also seems reasonable, for someone who has practically never lived in Argentina, having moved to Barcelona as a child, who therefore it has always been not only his team, but his home, city and nation), but also in the new technical dimension, in the new need to redefine spaces and depths of a leadership now to be rebuilt, refounded.
Then, last summer, precisely the victory in the America’s Cup (success to complement the Olympic gold medal in Beijing 2008) to give a perhaps unexpected new happiness and serenity, a more mature acceptance of new roles and tasks that Leo himself had wanted; and so here he is again the protagonist, even with the shirt of Paris Saint Germain of phenomena, until the World Cup in Doha, which began with the sensational collapse against Arabia (although opened by Pulce’s goal from a penalty) then redeemed with the successes against Mexico (one goal) and Poland (a missed penalty), and in the knockout phase with Australia (one goal), the Netherlands (another penalty) and Croatia (another goal from the penalty spot and assists to inspire the lethal Alvarez), with the serpentine that sends the Croatian Gvardiol for a walk who is currently the ideal technical spot for everything the tournament, while that “Que miras, bobo?” (“What are you looking at, stupid?”) addressed in the middle of a TV interview with the Dutch Weghorst, symbol of all the tense stories lived in the quarter-final with the tulips, but also of a new, different, bad and determined to the limit Messi of ferocity, and for this even more guide than Scaloni’s locker room.
Against Mbappé’s so far has been a World Cup that was all resolved on the pitch, almost whispered outside. Few concessions to the press, those of Kylian, who above all made his feet do the talking, marking the matches against Denmark with his braces and, in the round of 16, against Poland, after having sealed the success on the debut against the Australians (for a total of 5 goals that make him the top scorer of the tournament so far right together with Messi…), then putting himself at the service of the group, as perhaps only Griezmann has managed to do better and even more accomplished up to now. The first beneficiary of this attitude is Giroud who manages to be Kylian’s functional support since Russia 2018, from that world championship won by France of a teenager Mbappé who, with his brace branded, on 30 June in Kazan, just the eighth in the final in which Les Bleus beat Messi and his teammates 4-3 (who failed to make a comeback despite Kun Aguero’s late goal…). Granted that the memory of the football battle of four years ago will hover over the Lusail Stadium today, despite the fact that a good handful of protagonists have changed.