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The numbers. Oh, my! The numbers. Nothing quite defines the modern football world like the numbers that Lionel Messi racks up for the famous ol’ blue and red of Barcelona:
412 – The number of goals the little man has scored to make him to the top of Barcelona’s scoring charts. And that’s over a mere 482 matches (that number is 332 in an astonishing 321 games for the last six years).
73 – The number of goals he scored in the 2011/12 season; a record for most goals in a top-flight season.
77 – The number of goals that now makes him the joint top scorer in the illustrious history of the Champions League.
4 – The number of consecutive top scorer awards he has won in Europe’s elite competition (for the record, he has been the top scorer 5 times).
286 – The number of goals that make him the highest scorer in the grand old history of La Liga.
21 – The number of consecutive matches he has scored in.
If I were to keep listing out the various unique numbers that identify each one of the many, many, records Lionel Messi has made his own in his eleven years as a footballer for the Barcelona senior team, this would very soon turn from a mere sports article to a doctoral thesis on statistical improbability – the kind that gives number crunchers and Excel code-writers wet dreams. Let’s not do that, not today.
To put it succinctly then, the numbers are mind-boggling. If we were to look at it from the yellow-and-red tinted view of your average Catalan, (or your average Barça fanatic in any part of the world for that matter) that seals it – mathematics doesn’t lie. Numbers don’t lie. Little Leo has got to be up there – with the very best the game has ever seen.
But that’s just one side of the equation, isn’t it? As anyone who has got a solid rap on the knuckles from a disgruntled old Mathematics teacher would know, no equation is complete if we have only the numbers for one side of the damn thing.
Apart from the blue and red of Barça, Leo Messi has pulled on only one other jersey over his head - the absolutely gorgeous sky blue and white of his home nation; the hallowed jersey of La Albiceleste. And it is here, on the other side of the equation, that the numbers finally betray him.
Just two numbers in fact, but they carry the weight of a sinking ship.
1038 – The number of minutes Messi has gone without scoring from open play while playing for his national team.
0 –The number of major footballing trophies he and his nation have won in all his ten years with the team (no, the Olympics is not a major footballing event, sorry)
No international trophies? Nothing at all? Messi, then, surely cannot be considered anywhere near the pantheon of legends that sit in that wondrous, mythical Hall of Fame that we all call The Greatest of All Time. For many, no matter what happens in Catalonia, until he inspires Argentina to end what is now a 22-year title drought, he shouldn’t even be thought of in the same line as the two who currently occupy that fancy title, or even those like Cruyff and Beckenbauer who rest just below.
The curious case of Lionel Messi and La Albiceleste shirt
When Messi turned 16, the Spanish Football Federation had come knocking at his door, asking that tiny little mop-haired kid if he would like to turn out in his new adopted home of Spain. After all, it had been Spain who had provided him the treatment he so desperately need when he was younger, who had welcomed him and given him a home, who had given him a football academy where he could play the game he loved all day long.
He said no.
He may have been living in Spain, his friends may have been Spanish; but his heart still belonged to the country he was born in – the country his parents, grandparents and forefathers before them were born and raised in. His funny little accent still hadn’t changed – it was the same old dialect they spoke on the streets of Rosario. Leo Messi was still very much Argentinian.
A couple of years later he walked out for Argentina for the first time - against Hungary as a late substitute. 44 seconds and a reprehensible little simulation from Vilmos Vanczák later, he was back in the dressing room for an early shower.
That red card was an ominous sign of things to come.
We all know the history – quarter-final exits in the 2006 and 2010 World Cups, so close yet so far with that loss in the 2014 final. As for the Copa América, two more heartbreaking final losses (2007 and now 2015) sandwiching a forgettable quarterfinal exit in 2011.
We all know that. We all remember those defeats. Argentina entering six major tournaments and walking out empty handed each time.
What we may not remember though are things like Jose Pekerman’s sudden loss of cojones against Germany in ’06 – which meant Messi stayed on the bench in that fateful quarter-final, or that wonderful run La Albiceleste had into the 2007 Copa final, Messi in fine form throughout (only to lose to a counter-attacking master class from Dunga’s Brazil), how the eccentricities of Diego Maradona’s stewardship took its toll on the team and Messi in South Africa 2010, or how the uninspired coaching of Sergio Batista and Alessandra Sabella made Argentina, at times, the dullest team in the world (in the 2011 Copa and the 2014 WC respectively).
We all remember Messi ambling around looking a bit lost at times in that 2014 final – but do we remember that without Messi Argentina would arguably have struggled to make it to the quarters? Yes, he hasn’t taken a single tournament by the scruff of its neck and said “You are mine” a la Maradona ’86; but he came close this Copa América.
Having recovered from the undeniable slump that he had been under for most of 2014, the new, tattooed, fitter & more powerful looking Messi was irrepressible for most of the tournament. The stand out moment coming against Paraguay when in five odd seconds that encapsulated the very best of his genius.
Messi bravely beat Victor Cáceres for the ball he had absolutely no right to get to with a burst of sheer pace, shrugged off a much bigger man in Pablo César Aguilar with nonchalant ease before implausibly, nutmegging Bruno Valdez, all in one fluid motion, leaving the latter two in a heap on the ground and Messi free to set up Javier Pastore (who as always, fluffed his lines – Angel Di Maria poking in the rebound for the goal).
He didn’t score in the 6-1 rout, but he was at his destructive best – creating three goals himself, having crucial hands in the others as well - his mere presence making defenders flock to him and leaving the likes of Di Maria and Pastore acres of space to exploit.
In the final, Chile - and Jorge Sampaoli - had the number on him but despite the close attention he faced for the duration of the game, a piece of magic from him almost won Argentina the Copa with the very last kick of normal time; if only Ezequiel Lavezzi had found a better pass after Messi’s run and wonderful through ball had created previously nonexistent space in the Chile penalty box for him in the 94th minute; if only Gonzalo Higuain had found the empty net from all of two yards.
You see, sometimes the difference between winning and losing – the difference between a Maradona winning a trophy where a Messi didn’t – can quite simply be a Burruchaga taking his chance, where a Higuain fluffs his.
The new Messi v 2.0 has reinvented himself, from the false nine that wreaked havoc under Pep Guardiola who struggled to adapt in national colours to the right winger/trequartista/whoever the hell he wants to be under Luis Enrique who seems to have finally found his comfort zone for Argentina. This Copa América , he played with more freedom and gusto than ever. He may never enjoy the cult, demi-god status that Diego Maradona (or even Carlos Tevez) enjoys in Argentina, simply because he hasnt ever played football for an Argentinian club, but with some proper management (when handed Tevez, Aguero and Messi – who doesn’t start them as a front three? Really?) and a bit of luck, he may yet be able to win over the critics, and non-believers, in his home nation.
Will Lionel Messi ever be considered the ‘Greatest of all time’?
It’s the fashionable thing to do – disregard and scoff at the wondrous things that are happening right in front of you, while romanticizing, and in the process glorifying the past. Nothing wrong in celebrating what has happened, but it doesn’t really make sense that we shouldn’t celebrate what is happening!
Sure, he doesn’t have the aura of a Pele or the sheer inimitable charisma of a Maradona – but watching Lionel Messi play football is pure magic.
It’s not the records. It’s not the numbers. After a grinding work week, it’s just something special when you can slip into something comfortable, grab a couple of drinks and watch Lionel Andrés Messi make big, scary defenders look like absolute galoots – reminding us in the process why the sport of football is such a joy to watch.
For me then, and for many others like me, when we ask ourselves - “Will Lionel Messi ever be considered the ‘Greatest of All Time’?” the answer could very well be “Does it even matter?”
