The night Argentina bid farewell to Messi

“It’s impossible to escape Lionel Messi here.” This was one of my first impressions of Argentina after spending a few days there. And it's true. Lionel Messi is everywhere. Whether you’re going to a restaurant or even buying groceries at your local supermarket, there’s a really high chance you’ll see some sort of reference to him. And perhaps that's what fascinated me the most.

Having grown up idolising Leo in Pakistan, I was now surrounded by people who had spent their lives loving the very same footballer, despite us growing up thousands of miles apart. And it makes sense. He did bring back the World Cup trophy to his country for the first time since 1986. And whilst that might be the crown jewel of his illustrious career, his impact extends far beyond that.

To understand why an entire nation stopped everything and came together to give him the perfect farewell, you first have to understand what he represents to the people. When Argentina was going through one of the toughest financial crises in its history during the early 2020s, their captain made sure the people had something to celebrate. He was their beacon in the dark, the shining light at the end of the tunnel. And deliver he did. Argentina won the 2021 Copa America and the 2022 World Cup with captain Messi leading the charge from the front, winning the "Player of the Tournament" award in both competitions. And thus, “La Scaloneta” was born, and Argentina got its new crop of immortals.

Securing a ticket to the game was incredibly difficult. With only 85,000 tickets available and millions of people queuing up from all over the world, it's no surprise that the stands were sold out within minutes. Luckily, I was one of the fortunate few who managed to secure a ticket, and I immediately started preparing for what I knew would be a historic night. As a Pakistani Barcelona fan from Rawalpindi, this felt like a fever dream. Growing up, we would always talk about the day that Leo would eventually hang up his boots, and what a sad affair that would be, and it just felt surreal knowing that I would be witnessing it live.

And so, with anticipation building and emotions running high, matchday was finally here. I arrived four hours early for the game, so I could secure a good spot in the stands and beat the eventual crazy rush of people coming to the game. I entered the stadium, and I was not ready for the sight that awaited me. It felt like a movie scene straight out of an IMAX theatre. The stands were a sea of blue and white, with everyone singing the Messi song at the top of their lungs. If the Estadio Monumental had a roof that night, it would’ve been blown right off. It felt like a cathedral of football, where passion was spilling from the stands, and even the air itself was trembling, with the thunder of a thousand voices chanting “Messi, Messi, Messi” in unison. It was enough to give even the least enthusiastic sports fan goosebumps.

Over the next four hours, the energy in the crowd only increased. Both the Benin and Argentina teams were given a great reception upon entering the pitch, and it was really nice to see both sets of players interact with the fans whilst warming up. I never thought that a stadium packed to the brim with fans could foster intimacy, and yet it felt like such an intimate affair. Football is a competitive game, for sure, but it felt like every player on the pitch knew that this night was about only one man. Even during the warm-ups, the crowd would fall silent every time Messi was about to take a shot on goal and would erupt, even if he missed. Everyone was just excited to see him touch the ball, knowing that in two hours, it would all be over. The crowd was ready, the players were ready, and finally, the match kicked off.

The first official tribute to Messi came during the 10th minute of the game, when play was stopped, fireworks were set off, and the crowd started serenading their idol. Even the Argentina players were encouraging the crowd to be louder. But eventually, the game had to continue. Leo had a pretty decent first half, with some signature moments of magic, but Argentina still struggled to break the deadlock. Having watched him countless times on television, finally seeing him play in person was surreal. And he did not disappoint. And there he was, this small figure casually walking on the pitch, just scanning his surroundings, whilst everyone else was running. He seemed to have this invisible magic radius around him because no one had the audacity to try and press him. There were a few instances where two or three Benin defenders tried to press him when he had the ball, but as soon as they came close, he would dribble through them like it was nothing, in typical Messi fashion. He might be 39 years old, but there were moments when it felt like nothing had changed.

In the second half of the game, Argentina finally managed to break the deadlock and score their first goal of the night. It was a header from Nicolas Otamendi, who has been one of Leo’s most loyal companions in the national team for over a decade now, and the goal came courtesy of a beautiful corner delivery from none other than La Pulga himself. 13 minutes later, Messi set up Nico Paz right on the edge of the box, and he was able to make it 2-0. And so, Argentina was ahead, Leo had two assists, and it seemed like victory was impending. Now, everyone in the stadium was waiting for one thing: for their number 10 to get one last goal for his beloved Albiceleste.

So when Argentina won a penalty in the 70th minute, the crowd was ready to burst. Chants of “Messi, Messi, Messi” started ringing around the stadium again as the little boy from Rosario, Argentina, stepped up to take the penalty, knowing that this could very well be the last time he would score in the historic blue and white jersey. And as the ball flew into the top left corner and I saw the greatest football player of all time celebrate less than 20m away from me, the realisation started to hit. This would all be over soon. Clearly, I was not the only one who realised this because the fans started to get more and more emotional as the last few minutes went by and the chants only grew louder. And then, the final whistle rang through the stadium, breaking millions of hearts all over the world in the process, and the game finally came to an end.

As the adrenaline from the game started to wear off, the atmosphere shifted from electric to melancholic. The ground staff started to prepare the pitch for Messi’s farewell ceremony, and everyone in the stadium was taking a moment just to prepare for what was about to come next. As the captain stepped onto the centre of the pitch, ready to address his troops for the last time, people in the crowd started handing packets of tissues to each other, anticipating the tears that were about to fall. Silence rang around the stadium as Leo started talking, simply out of respect. People were hanging on his every word. Watching their hero deliver an incredibly emotional and raw speech, everyone was in tears, including the national team players. Despite all of that, the occasion felt more wholesome than sad. This man had given everything to try and bring glory back to his country, and he had succeeded. So, in reality, these weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of gratitude.

Having grown up thousands of miles away in Pakistan and not being a native Spanish speaker, I was surprised by just how warm and welcoming the occasion felt. The crowd was mostly Argentine, yet the supporters around me went out of their way to make me feel like part of the family. Upon finding out that I am Pakistani, multiple people came up to me and thanked me for supporting the team and coming all this way to pay tribute to the greatest football player of all time. We did not need to speak the same language for these interactions to take place, because we were all proficient in the language that is football. The beautiful game transcends borders and is simply one of the most powerful unifying forces in the world because, for those few moments, it didn't matter that I was a Pakistani surrounded by thousands of Argentines. We were all there for the same reason, united by our love for the same footballer.

Honestly, I could write paragraphs and paragraphs in tribute to the little genius, but with time, I’ve come to realise that words simply aren’t enough. So all I can really say is thank you, on behalf of every little boy in Pakistan who has ever worn his jersey. It is a sad occasion indeed because there will never be a player like Lionel Messi ever again.

The writer is a student of BS Economics at a university in San Francisco, California, US.