No footballer makes me make involuntary noises as much as Messi
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Paul McShane gave me tourettes
These videos are runreal
How are these lads not making montages for the bbc or sky
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Miguel claiming the GOAT debate has now been settled thanks to age catching up with Ronaldo and the World Cup win.
He’s some fan boy for Barca.
He’s bizarrely absolutely seething over ronaldo this morning.
Ronaldo really triggers him. The combination of Portugal and Real must wind him up something terrible.
The united boys circling the wagons for CR7, the love breaks but it never dies
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When you get the CR7 pyjamas for Christmas, you can’t back down.
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It’s because Miguel like Messi is a midget, except Messi is extremely talented.
The pyjama boys are still reeling from the Gakpo news, cut them some slack.
He’s stating the obvious there alright.
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There was never a debate… Messi was always light years better.
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“𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢’𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞” - The piece of writing that made Messi cry.
𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘯á𝘯 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪 – 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘈𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳 – 𝘥𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 ‘𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯’ 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘱, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮.
On Saturday mornings in 2003, Catalonia’s TV3 was broadcasting live the matches of Barça’s youth teams. And in the chats of Argentine emigrants, two questions were frequently asked: how to make 𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘦 by boiling cans of condensed milk, and at what time the fifteen-year-old boy from Rosario who scored goals in every game played.
In the 2003–2004 season, Lionel Messi played thirty-seven matches and scored thirty-five goals: the morning rating on Catalan TV on Saturdays was higher than at night. People were already talking about 𝘢𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘯 in the hairdressers, in the bars, and in the stands of Camp Nou.
The only one who didn’t talk was him: in the post-match interviews, the teenager answered all the questions with a yes, no or thank you, and then looked down. We Argentine emigrants would have preferred a chatty guy, but here was a good thing: when he put together a sentence, he swallowed the s’s and said: 𝘧𝘶𝘭 instead of 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘢.
We discovered, with great relief, that he was one of us, one of those who had the suitcase unpacked.
There were two kinds of immigrants: those who kept the suitcase in the closet as soon as they arrived in Spain, said 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘦, 𝘵í𝘰 and 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘴. And those of us who had the suitcase unpacked kept the traditions, such as 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 or 𝘺𝘦í𝘴𝘮𝘰. We said 𝘺𝘶𝘷𝘪𝘢, we said 𝘤𝘢𝘺𝘦.
Time began to pass. Messi became the undisputed 10 of Barça. The Leagues, the King’s Cups, and the Champions League came. And both he and us, the immigrants, knew that the accent was the hardest thing to hold on to.
It was hard for us all to keep saying 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘢 instead of 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦, but at the same time, we knew that it was our final trench. And Messi was our leader in that battle. The kid who didn’t talk kept our way of talking alive.
So, all of a sudden, we were not only enjoying the best player we had ever seen, but we were also monitoring him to make sure he didn’t slip a Spanish slang in interviews.
In addition to his goals, we celebrated that, in the locker room, he always had his 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘰 and 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦. Suddenly he was the most famous human being in Barcelona but, just like us, he never stopped being an Argentinian in another country.
His Argentinian flag at the celebrations of every European Cup. His attitude when he went to the Olympic Games to win gold for Argentina without his club’s permission. His Christmas always spent in Rosario, even though he had to play in January at Camp Nou. Everything he did was a wink for us, for those of us who, in 2000, had arrived with him in Barcelona.
It is difficult to explain how much he made our lives happier for those of us who lived far from home. How he took us out of the boredom of a monotonous society and gave us a sense of purpose. How he helped us not to lose our orientation Messi made us happy in such a serene and natural way, and so much our own, that when the insults from Argentina began to arrive, we could not understand it.
𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺. 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘎𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘈𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘯. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘺.
I lived fifteen years away from Argentina, and I can’t think of a more horrible nightmare than hearing voices of contempt from the place you love most in the world.
Neither more unbearable pain than hearing, in your son’s voice, the phrase Messi heard from his son Thiago: “Dad, why are they killing you in Argentina?”
My breath catches when I think of that phrase from a kid to a father. And I know that an ordinary person would end up overrun by resentment.
That’s why Messi’s resignation in 2016 from the Argentine national team was almost a relief for us immigrants. We couldn’t see him suffer like that, because we knew how much he loved his country and the efforts he made not to break the umbilical cord.
When he resigned, it was as if, all of a sudden, Messi had decided to take his hands out of the fire for a while. Not only his own. We were also burnt by those criticisms.
That’s where, I think, the most unusual event in recent soccer occurred: the afternoon in 2016 when Lionel got tired of the insults and decided to quit, a fifteen-year-old boy wrote him a letter on Facebook that ended with: “Think about staying. But stay to have fun, which is what these people want to take away from you.” Seven years later, Enzo Fernández, the author of the letter, turned out to be Lionel Messi’s revelation player in the World Cup.
Messi returned to the National Team (he said so himself) so that those kids who sent him letters would not believe that giving up in life was an option.
And when he came back, he won everything he was missing and closed the mouths of his detractors. Although some found him “for the first time vulgar” in front of a mic. It was when he said: 𝘘𝘶é 𝘮𝘪𝘳á’, 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘰, 𝘢𝘯𝘥á 𝘱𝘢𝘺á. For us, those who monitored his accent for fifteen years, it was a perfect phrase, because he swallowed all the s’s and his 𝘺𝘦í𝘴𝘮𝘰 is still untouched.
We are happy to confirm that he is still the same who helped us to be happy when we were far away.
Now some of us immigrants are back; others remained. And we all enjoyed watching Messi return home with the World Cup in his unpacked suitcase. This epic story would never have happened if the fifteen-year-old Lionel had hidden his suitcase in the closet. If as a kid he had surrendered to the 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘦 and the 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢, 𝘵í𝘰. But he never forgot his accent or his place in the world.
That is why the whole Humanity wished Lionel to triumph so strongly. No one had ever seen, at the top of the world, a simple man.
And yesterday, as every year, Messi returned from Europe to spend Christmas with his family in Rosario, to say hello to his neighbors. His traditions don’t change.
The only thing that changes is what he brought us in his suitcase.
𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘈𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘻𝘰𝘯𝘪 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘓𝘢 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘫𝘢 𝘥𝘦 𝘓𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭, 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘣𝘺 𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘯á𝘯 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪.
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Good to see him heading back to Barcelona. Hopefully he apologises to the fans.
Why?
hopefully he takes no wages
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He should be paying them
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Why?