For years Argentina has waited; for weeks, Argentina believes

With arms raised, Lionel Messi stood before those who had come to worship him. In that second, he left the numerous Argentine fans gathered in the Lusail stadium spellbound. They didn’t jump or turn to celebrate. Instead, he held them perfectly still, caught in a moment of silent communion between the deity and his congregation.

Then of course it all fell apart. The stands seemed to melt and shake, a roar of joy, relief and affirmation echoing around that immense golden bowl. On the field of play, Messi was overwhelmed by the jubilation of his teammates. He hadn’t scored -that relatively simple task fell to Julián Álvarez-, but he had created it, he had made it real, he had designed it with pure silk. And now, finally, he had done what he set out to do.

For years, Argentina has been waiting. For weeks, Argentina believes. But it was only then, with the 3-0 victory over Croatia ten minutes from the end of the semi-final, that Argentina realized it. On Sunday, Messi will lead his country to the World Cup final. Eight years later, what may be the greatest player of all time will shine again in the most important game in the world. He will have one last chance to redeem himself. You will have the opportunity to take revenge.

It has become commonplace that this World Cup – his last – is Messi’s last chance to make up for the disappointment of his defeat to Germany in 2014; cement his legacy; to match the achievements of his only possible historical colleagues, Pele and Diego Maradona, and deliver his country the greatest glory the game has to offer. This proposition is attractive, but wrong.

Messi’s legacy is already secured. His list of awards borders on the absurd, an endless parade of trophies won and records broken: four Champions Leagues, 790 goals, 11 national championships, one Copa América, Barcelona’s all-time top goalscorer, five Balls d ‘oro (or equivalent), the most prolific player in the history of Spain.

Messi is not there because he needs a World Cup to be remembered as a great player. It’s here because it’s the only thing that would mean more—to him, to his congregation, to his country—than anything else. It’s here because he sees it as somewhere between his duty and his destiny. It’s here because it would be its crowning glory.

Messi has displayed an intensity in recent weeks that wasn’t always apparent in the later stages of his career. He still spends much of his time on the court walking, obviously only waking up for a light jog when he feels the situation deserves his attention. but that economy of energy should not be confused with disinterest or dissatisfaction.

After all, it was Messi who boarded the Argentina national team bus after their defeat to Saudi Arabia and asked his dejected teammates if they could trust each other. It was Messi who faced the entire Dutch coaching staff after Argentina emerged victorious in an ill-tempered and volatile quarter-final. It was Messi who angrily protested the presence of Wout Weghorst, the Dutch striker, in a post-match interview.

And, time and time again, it was Messi who intervened in matches to bend them to his will. Since that loss to the Saudis, he said, Argentina had “been in five finals and were lucky enough to win all five.”

Luck is one word to define it. In the group stage, it was Messi who opened the scoring against Mexico, just when Argentina’s nerves were on edge, when the specter of humiliation hung over the country. It was Messi who opened the scoring against Australia in the round of 16. It was Messi who scored the first goal and the second against the Netherlands, then it was Messi who came forward and kicked the first penalty of the shoot-out.

Against Croatia, Messi was the decisive figure. The cruelty of playoff football is that an entire month’s work — more, in fact — can evaporate in a single moment. Croatia’s hallmark, throughout the tournament, was control, composure.

They may not have been the most adventurous and exciting team in Qatar, but He was disciplined, organized and decisive. He wore down his rivals, kept them at bay, trusting that they would make the first mistake. They did well enough to not only reach the semi-final, beating Brazil along the way, but also to survive the first half hour of Tuesday’s game with hardly a scratch.

Luka Modric, that other generational talent trying to avoid the final curtain, had established his authority in midfield. His lieutenants – Marcelo Brozovic, Mateo Kovacic, Ivan Perisic – rushed to put out the few fires that risked igniting. Argentina has begun to have the same restlessness that many teams suffer when facing Croatia.

But it only takes a moment. For the first time – in this match, in this tournament, maybe in his life – Modric has taken his eyes off the ball. Instead of reaching his hands, the ball rolled under his feet and reached Enzo Fernández. It did not matter; Fernández was still in his field. There was no obvious danger.

Modric is so reliable that it never occurred to anyone that he could be wrong. Josko Gvardiol and Dejan Lovren, the Croatian central defenders, had moved away from each other, trying to offer him a favorable angle for a pass.

Suddenly, there was a vacuum. Álvarez, vigilant, saw it. Fernández too. He sent a simple straight ball towards the end of the field and suddenly Álvarez was running after him, flying over the pale green grass in front of him. Dominik Livakovic, the Croatian goalkeeper, ran towards him, but he only managed to hit his abdomen. Penalty for Argentina. Messi had the ball. All of Croatia’s work had been in vain.

Five minutes later, the game was over. Álvarez scored the worst and best goals imaginable, coming onto the pitch from the halfway line, the ball bouncing off his path after two attempts by the Croatians and settling perfectly to be kicked past Livakovic.

However, in the case of Argentina, not even a two-goal lead gave absolute certainty. Lionel Scaloni’s team had it against the Netherlands and wasted it. Only when Messi’s third goal arrived were Argentina able to breathe. It was also very appropriate: a master playing hits, using that stage to become his tribute act.

With 10 minutes left in a World Cup semi-final, at 35, there he was, running down the flank, overtaking Gvardiol, his relentless shadow all night, slowing down to beat him again, reaching into the box strictly speaking. the ball to Álvarez, addressing his fans, his people, and accepting not so much congratulations as thanks.

It was then that Argentina found out. In the final minutes, as the clock ticked and the chants echoed across Lusail, Argentina’s substitutes stood apart, that area of ​​purgatory between the stands and the pitch, embracing each other, joining the chant.

At the top of their lungs they sang the anthems that marked Argentina’s month in Qatar, their journey to the final, anthems dedicated to their homeland, to Maradona and, above all, to Messi, everyone’s man, fans and footballers. they have come to honor and worship.

Translation: Elisa Carnelli