2001. Far from home. Injections every night at 12.
Who’d have thought he’d be here today? Who’d have ever thought?!
One. 2009. 22 years old. The man looked so off-course in that podium but still had that countenance with an entelechy of how far he’d emanate from that small house in Rosario. Treble winning season, that solo brilliance against Madrid after Busi put the ball off the plate for him(), and that header in Rome, it was all designated for him. He was designated for greatness.
Just a start, it was. Just a start.
He isn’t a mere footballer, he’s much more than that. He just doesn’t dribble and kick the ball around, he’s just another Picasso, not with a painting brush on his hand, but with a ball at his feet, dancing around in colosseums with perfection. He’s like an expeditious flowing river, free-flowing and wondrously resplendent to see.
What’s intriguing is how today he’s still the same, nothing less, but even more. Our engine, he was and now the oil additionally. Can verbalize in way Barca have failed him but it has only availed him reinforce his arsenal.
And now that he’s got his 6th golden ball today, he ain’t ceasing. These accolades betoken nothing compared to what this man has done to make us fall in love with him. He’s left a mark so deep inside of us that seeing him in his lows has made many of us shed tears and hide inside our rooms in complete tenebrosity.
It’s not the wins and losses that define him anymore, it’s the mindset to fight for everything, every year, and the art he engenders on the pitch.
“For a hero, he forever will be.”
Lionel Andres Messi, numero uno en el mundo