This story is from June 21, 2018

FIFA World Cup 2018: Unforgiven, it’s the Messi thing

With all the expectation riding on the player now known as GOAT (Greatest Player of All Time), his efforts to break down the Icelandic wall seemed futile.
FIFA World Cup 2018: Unforgiven, it’s the Messi thing
Sven Goran Erikson, England manager in the 2000s, said recently that his main regret about his years with the squad was not having hired a ‘mental trainer’ to prepare for penalty shoot-outs. In 2006, a depleted group of young men was eliminated with Wayne Rooney, largely blamed for their exit after getting sent off.
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Back in 2002, Sven had the players prepared for a penalty shoot-out; a sports psychologist highlighted that eye-contact with the rivals should be avoided.
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When a penalty was won against Argentina, a cunning defender by the name of Diego Simeone attempted to shake the hand of the brave Englishman who was to take the kick: David Beckham. Beckham flicked his hair and looked the other way, before lobbying the ball into the Argentina net.
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It was fitting payback for 1998, when the same Beckham had gotten himself sent off after succumbing like an angry child to the expert provocations of the same Simeone. After England’s exit, the tabloids ran Beckham’s picture and the caption ‘10 players and one stupid boy’.
Hernan Crespo, who himself missed a penalty in that clash in 1998, speaking on Argentina TV said this week that he hoped Messi would be able to rise above the bitter blow of taking a kick which didn’t turn into goal. His reasonable, calm appraisal of the situation is hard to make out amidst the cacophony of panic that seems to have gripped football chat-shows in Argentina. Presenters scream and swear at each other and the players. Nobody quite dares question Messi himself, but the sense of fear is palpable.

With all the expectation riding on the player now known as GOAT (Greatest Player of All Time), his efforts to break down the Icelandic wall seemed futile. Even Aguero’s goal (heated debate ensuing about whether it was a fluke or the result of clever strategising) appeased anxieties in a nation which rightly or wrongly – wrongly in this correspondent’s humble opinion – feels nothing short of lifting the trophy will do.
“I missed five penalties in a row and was still Maradona,” Diego Maradona pronounced by way of comfort, revealing several things in one statement, the most salient perhaps being that his main objective was, and still is, being Maradona.
Messi’s objective is neither to be Maradona, nor even to be Messi. What he wants is to win; not winning seems to deplete him. To depress him almost, and I use the word carefully. And when he is depressed, the rest of the team gets depressed too.
Further fuel for the low morale came with his nemesis, Cristiano Ronaldo, scoring a hat-trick in Portugal’s opening game. On paper, both men are the only superstars in ordinary teams. But their respective debut performances leave us with enduring images in stark contrast to each other; the adonislike Ronaldo confidently smashing three against a valued Spanish side, triumphantly holding his head high, vis a vis the petite Messi looking down at the ground, clearly feeling the burden of something.
Argentina have spent the past days discussing whether or not languishing in Maradona’s shadow is going to turn into the final resting place for Leo; whether or not Cristiano’s blatant narcissism is a justified reflection of a man who has earned his due adoration by performing according to expectations. The press packs can be brutal, perhaps understandably, because if Argentina go home after just three games, the party is pretty much over for all.
Crespo’s serene voice hinted that the players need to relax and find the space to relish the unique experience of playing in a World Cup. “What’s the worst that can happen?” he said. “Getting knocked out. It’s not the end of the world; 16 teams are going home in a few days.”
Such normalising discourse has no place in the cut-throat world of elite international football, it seems. After England were eliminated in 2006, Sven pleaded with the press who were salivating like assassins: “Look after Wayne Rooney” he said, aware that the kid was about to take the flak big time, “You need him more than me. Please. Don’t kill him”.
But kill him they did.
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