Messi: The First and Last of His Kind
It’s always terribly sad when you hear of another species going extinct. The Kauaʻi ʻōʻō’s story is no different, except we recorded the last living one. Somehow, this makes it sadder. The Kauaʻi ʻōʻō had been proclaimed extinct twice before. Once in the 1940’s and again in the 1950s. In 1971, an ornithologist named John Sincock discovered a nesting pair of the birds in the Alaka’i Swamp. Sincock later released the shaky, unremarkable footage of the bird drinking some water from a red flower.
In 1987, David Boynton recorded the last living Kauaʻi ʻōʻō. Boynton couldn’t believe what he had just seen and captured on his tape recorder, and upon recording the bird’s beautiful song, he played it back to make sure he captured it. Moments later the bird returned. Boynton realised that the bird would return when he played the recording. The bird believed he was hearing the sounds of another Kauaʻi ʻōʻō. It was believed that this male Kauaʻi ʻōʻō had been the last living member of its species for several years at this point. He was alone and had been for some time. At the time of the recording, Boyton knew this bird was on the brink of extinction. So when he flew off, he wasn’t sure if he’d hear the bird’s majestic call again. One can imagine that he’d hope so.
As I watched Barcelona’s title hopes crumble with Celta Vigo’s 89th minute game winning goal at the Camp Nou, I couldn’t help feel like David Boyton most likely did in 1987. Sure, I hoped that this game wouldn’t be Messi’s last in Barcelona’s colors, but I wasn’t sure. It seemed like this sight was far too unspectacular. I had seen Pep’s farewell, Xavi’s goodbye, I had attended Iniesta’s celebration. Joyous, grand, meaningful. This was its antithesis. Messi, head down, dejected, on his way to the showers shuffling past celebrating Vigo players, to the tune of Barça’s anthem more tinny than usual reverberating off the 100,000 empty seats. This couldn’t be how Messi flew away.
In retrospect, we knew this day would be near. Since Messi’s infamous ‘Burofax’, where he communicated his desires to leave his childhood club in August of 2020, we had been warned that the days were numbered. Like all Barça fans, I held on to that dream of 100,000 people chanting Messi’s name, “Messi! Messi! Messi!”, on his retirement day, only having worn one jersey in his professional career.
Believe it or not there was a time without Messi. My earliest memory of Barcelona fandom was one of jealousy. It was the 1999/2000 season, and every weekend we would go to our family friend’s house to watch the Barcelona matches. Barcelona had just signed Dani Garcia from Mallorca, and coincidentally that was my younger brother’s name. My father and his friend had made it a ritual to make sure my brother was wearing the Dani Garcia kit to bring good luck. I was not a part of this, nor any ritual. Nonetheless, I cheered on my Catalan team from thousands of miles away.
I identified as a ‘Cule’ more with each passing year. I rarely missed a match. My brother and I scheduled our lives around Barça’s schedule. Each year brought more and more joy. Ronaldinho’s magic, first round of Champions League glory, Guardiola, Iniesta’s Stamford Bridge wonder goal, ‘Tiki-taka’, the perfect season, the MSN trident, more Champions league glory. All of these memories blend into the love for the Blaugrana.
In the 2003/04 season, there was talk of a 16 year old wonder kid coming through La Masia. As the 2004/05 was underway, my father would check the Barcelona headlines to see whether we’d finally see this prodigy in an official game. It happened in October of 2004 against crosstown rivals, RCD Espanyol. It was a routine debut. A few minutes in the match but not making a dent on the scoresheet.
I don’t have to tell you how Messi came to be in the next 16 years. We all know that story. I can summarise in a few words; “Can you believe what Messi did now?”
Messi has been playing in the Catalan capital more than half of my life. I find it hard to comprehend how much time that truly is. Simple saying that out loud makes me almost question whether that is true. I was 15 when he debuted, I’m 32 now. Yes. More than half.
The author, Madeleine L’Engle said, “A self is not something static, tied up in a pretty parcel and handed to a child, finished and complete. A self is always becoming.” Throughout my teens and twenties, I felt as though as everything, including myself, was continuously changing. My life from the age of 15 through today is a series of ever changing plot points that I constantly had to adapt to. However, there was one constant that hummed along like the soothing whir of a laundromat dryer. No matter where I was, I could count on turning on the Barça match and seeing the Argentine doing something sorcerous.
Since Messi’s debut, I’ve managed to finish high school, college, post graduate work, and UEFA coaching licensing. I’ve lived in the middle of nowhere central New York, tiny picturesque college town, several Spanish cities, including Mallorca, Murcia, Granada, and Barcelona, French towns, like Greoux-Les-Bains, a short stay in Liverpool, and a move to Denver, Colorado. I’ve had some really low points, like trouble with the law, first love heartache, parents divorce, stressful visa issues. And some incredibly high moments like making a career in football, gaining life-long friends, getting married, and having two beautiful children.
Amidst all of that, Messi’s joy was always there. Something I could always count on. His magic was the background to it all. Like a record player playing some soothing oldies in another room. It was comforting to hear that magic week in and week out, no matter what was going on around me.
December 2019: A week before I was due to travel back to Spain for a long overdue trip, my wife went into premature labor. Everything stopped for the week of labor and the coming weeks when my son was in intensive care. Everything changed from that day on, and yet Messi was still there, humming along in the background. In fact, the day my son was born, I watched Barcelona play Mallorca with a Messi hat trick as my son slept peacefully on my chest. New plot point but Messi was there to provide some normality.
I looked down at my day old son and said, “One day you’ll understand who Messi is.”
August 2021: In the coming days after the news broke that Messi would be leaving, I was in shock. True and complete shock. Shuffling along each day trying to keep my mind focused what I needed to do only to be caught in the same thought, “Messi leaving Barcelona?”
I refreshed my phone hundreds of times to ensure that this in fact was happening. Each refresh brought me closer to the harsh reality. Official club statement, new ‘thank you’ video, farewell posts from teammates, PSG rumours. It was happening.
I pulled out my phone and refreshed again. The club released a new video titled ‘Thank you, Leo Messi’. My sons have a strict no screen time policy, but in this case, I said to my 20 month old son, “Do you want to see who Messi is?” He says yes to everything so he looked up at me excitedly and said “Si”. I sat him down next to me on the sofa and we watch the 7 minute and 17 second video.
The video starts with a series of highlights from his entire career. It then transitions to close ups of Messi at different stages of his life with some emotive music. At this point, I became emotional. My son had sat through the whole video engrossed and I said, “That’s Messi” and he repeated “Messi” in his cute toddler voice. “Messi”, he said again and again.
It had never crossed my mind that my son would never have the opportunity to experience Messi like I did. He’d see highlights and expect something incredible. He’d never have the chance to let himself be taken by the rapture of Messi.
A few days later, my son and I were reading his Paddington pop-up book where the loveable bear looks for his stolen marmalade sandwich. As you read through it, you open up the pop-up windows to help Paddington find his snack. Behind one of the pop-up flaps is a boy with a football asking Paddington if he wants to play. Paddington declines and says he’s looking for his sandwich. My son and I have read this book hundreds of times, and this page is always passed by without a thought. This day was different. He saw the boy and said “Messi”.
Perhaps my son is right. Perhaps football is Messi and Messi football. My son has only one experience of watching football and it’s Lionel Messi for 7 minutes and 17 seconds. What will football be without Messi? I know that Messi isn’t retiring but for me it feels like he is. It’s an illogical thought but it’s one I can’t bury. Maybe I know this means it’s the beginning of end, or maybe that cozy whirring of Messi can only go on where it’s always taken place, Barcelona.
I still don’t know the answer to these illogical question, but what I can say, is I feel a deep sadness my son will never experience football with Messi. I would rather him have those 7 minutes and 17 seconds than football without Leo. What if he never gets to see someone like Messi. It’s been said that there will never be anyone like the Argentine. Simultaneously, that saddens me and makes me grateful. Saddens me for future football fans and fills me with gratitude I was with Leo for the better part of my life.
Halley’s comet is one the skies most anticipated events. The celestial marvel can be seen on earth every 75 years and has been recorded by astronomers as early as 240 BC. As the author John Green states, “I find it so comforting that we know when Halley will return, and that it will return, whether we are here to see it or not.” I agree, so what about a guarantee that another Messi will come around in 75 years for my children to witness?
A few years back, I stumbled across one of the greatest homages to Lionel Messi by Hernán Casciari. The text is too long to for this occasion but here is an excerpt:
It all started this morning: I’m watching endless videos of Messi’s goals on Youtube. I click on a new compilation of fragments I’ve never seen before. I think that this video is like the thousands out there, but I soon realise it’s not. They’re not Messi’s goals, nor his best plays, or assists. It’s a strange compilation: the video shows hundreds of images - about two or three seconds each - where Messi is fouled and he doesn’t fall.
He doesn’t dive or complain. He doesn’t look to deceive for a free kick or penalty kick. In each cut, he follows the ball with his eyes as he tries to recover his balance. He does things out of this world so what they did to him is not a foul, nor a yellow card. There’s tons of clips of him receiving ferocious kicks, obstructions, being stepped on, cheats, being tripped, being pulled; I had never seen all of these together. He’s dribbling and gets a whack to the tibia, but he keeps going. They hit him in the heel, he stumbles and keeps going. The hold on to his shirt, he turns, gets free and keeps going.
I put each clip on slow motion and I understood that Messi’s eyes were always focused on the ball.
Where had I seen that look before? Who? Those gestures of excessive introspection seemed familiar. I paused the video. I zoomed on his eyes. And I remembered, they were my dog’s eyes when he lost his sponge.
When someone would grab a sponge - a yellow sponge we used to wash dishes - Totín, my dog, would go crazy. He wanted that sponge more than anything in the world, he would die to get that little rectangle to his little dog house. I would show it to him in my right hand and he would focus. I would move it from side to side and he never lost sight of it. He couldn’t stop looking at it.
I later discovered watching that video that Messi was a dog. Or a dog-man. That was my theory. I’m sorry that you have made it this far with grander expectations. Messi is the first dog to play football.
Hernán is right. Messi cares about nothing more than the football at his feet. Don’t talk to him about contracts, publicity, laws, signings, just give him the sponge.
The Kauaʻi ʻōʻō went extinct in 1987. Most likely the dog-man will follow suit. He’s been taken away from his home to be shown to the world one last time before we have to say goodbye. We don’t know if there are more out there like him, but there’s a good chance he’s the last one. But I really do hope we find more like him.
And if we don’t, we should consider ourselves lucky to have seen him. He sang his song and we called back;
Messi! Messi! Messi! Messi! Messi! Messi!…
And we’ll continue calling long after he’s gone.
