Spain clinched the World Cup, as many predicted they would. Portugal was eliminated by Spain, again, a widely anticipated outcome. The tournament saw unlikely heroes emerge, like goalkeeper Vozinha, and confirmed rising powers, such as Norway's ascent. There were also disappointments, like Germany's inglorious exit, and surprises, exemplified by Cape Verde's impressive run. The shadow of alleged political interference from Donald Trump, and the subsequent questioning of the game's integrity – ironically, a value so cherished in major American sports leagues – also loomed. There was euphoria and tears, no serious brawls outside the stadiums, but some ugly scenes on the pitch during the final. The biggest stars still shone brightly. This mega-World Cup had everything others did – beautiful and ugly goals – yet, for me, it will be remembered for a single phrase.
On the morning show Posse de Bola on the UOL channel, journalist Luiza Oliveira analyzed Argentina's incredibly tough victory over Egypt, secured right at the death, through the lens of Lionel Messi. In that match, Messi missed a penalty, scored a goal, and assisted another. She then recalled an idea from someone she couldn't identify, but she presented it in a way that made everyone in the studio, and I'd venture to say at home too, pause and reflect.
“Messi is the Argentine we wish we were. Maradona, on the other hand, is the Argentine we are,” said Federico El Negro Bulos of ESPN Argentina. As Argentina progressed through the World Cup, carried on Messi's back or following his lead, this phrase gained traction. Journalist and writer Laura Di Marco, from Argentina's La Nación newspaper, pondered this and wrote: “A footballer in Argentina is not just that: he is a cultural example or, in the worst case, an opaque counter-example. And our society can exhibit both cases.”
She identifies in Messi certain behaviors, even an “exaggerated humility,” but notes that this humility protects him from everything – a privilege Maradona never enjoyed. The phrase that characterizes Maradona, for Argentinians, according to Laura Di Marco, is “you've got it in there,” laden with sexual violence and characteristic of the Argentine they no longer wish to be. Now, it's possible to criticize the god of a country ravaged and fractured by economic crises, a nation that “could only feed its self-esteem with the pride of being a footballing powerhouse.” Maradona was also more than that; as Luiza Oliveira pointed out, he was a fighter and erratic. Not everything was forgiven in Argentina; just mention him on the streets of Buenos Aires, and you'll quickly hear a “but,” always linked to accusations of relationships and the violation of a minor.
Witnessing the love for football, whether for a club or the national team, in Argentina is truly an unforgettable experience. I had the pleasure of doing so in September 2024, at the Monumental Stadium, during an Argentina-Chile match, a tribute game for Di María. It all makes so much more sense. What I can no longer say is what Ronaldo represents for the Portuguese: whether he's the Portuguese we want to be or the Portuguese we are. Probably neither.