DOHA, Qatar, Dec 17 (AP): Lionel Messi cried when he left Argentina. He was 13 years old and zooming down Ruta Nacional 9, from Rosario to a Buenos Aires airport, with endless pastures whizzing by, when tears welled and fears of a faraway land set in.
Messi was, at the time, just Leo, a 4-foot-8 prodigy with skyscraping dreams. And to chase them, he had to sacrifice. He had to hurriedly wave goodbye to friends and to comfort, to family and to his favourite places on Earth. To jumpstart his rise to the top of global soccer, he had to jet to Barcelona; he had to leave home.
But as he rose over the 22 years that followed, from Leo to Messi, collecting Ballon d'Ors and $1 billion as he went, home never left him. He lived a spotlighted yet secluded life in Spain, but seemingly longed for the city that had shaped him. He clung to his Rosarino accent, swallowing consonants everywhere he went. He maintained his childhood house even after his family had deserted it. He married a Rosarina at a Rosario hotel. He talked about how, someday, he wanted to return.
In the meantime, he channeled his longing into soccer. He wanted, more than anything, to make Argentina happy. He wanted, "more than anyone," he said, "to win a title with the national team."
And here, decades later, he is one step away. He has already won a title, at last year's Copa America.
But en route to the final match of his World Cup career, with his genius and joy and grace, he has already won something else that seemed just as elusive: his country's undying love.
Messi's move to Barcelona
Leo was born with extraordinary talent into an ordinary family, which grew from two to six at a modest home on a one-way street in south Rosario. His dad worked at a steel factory. His mom cleaned houses to help support their lower-middle-class existence. Leo was their third son, and Argentina's umpteenth dreamer. He'd prance around nearby fields, a ball already strung to his magical left foot. His childhood, per most retellings, seemed idyllic - until he stopped growing.
Around age 10, Leo was diagnosed with a hormone deficiency. Doctors prescribed medicine that was cumbersome and expensive. Leo would lug around a small blue cooler and inject the liquid into his own legs every single day. His family's health insurance and his youth club, Newell's Old Boys, covered a chunk of the cost.
But then Argentina, as a nation, plunged toward economic crisis. Newell's walked back its financial commitment. And for the Messis, money got tight. They went in search of another club that would help fund Leo's $1,000-a-month treatment. They landed, in the fall of 2000, some 6,500 miles away in Spain.
Barcelona, in a way, rescued the prodigious talent in Leo's stunted body. Executives and agents hashed out an agreement that became the foundation for one of the most fruitful club-player relationships in soccer history. Messi would, over two decades, lead his adoptive club to 34 trophies and claim just about every individual accolade.
A foreigner at home
Over time, he settled in Barcelona. He trained on pristine fields and learned a more methodical version of the game. And to most of Rosario, for a few years in a pre-digital age, he disappeared.
Even in Argentine soccer, he became something of an enigma. Hugo Tocalli, a youth national team coach, learned of Messi via a now-fabled video tape. There, on a fuzzy screen, was little Leo in an oversized Barca kit, tying Spanish teens twice his size into knots. The tape was mind-boggling. But Messi almost seemed mythical. He was an outsider, almost a foreigner to a U-17 team comprising kids from exclusively Argentine clubs. So Tocalli didn't take him to the 2003 U-17 World Championship - where, ionically, Tocalli's Argentina lost to Spain.
A Copa America on home soil in 2011 brought the first tipping point. Amid a two-year goal drought in competitive games for Argentina, after a couple dire group-stage draws, pundits and zealous hinchas turned on Messi. They whistled and booed him. They chanted "Diego." They cursed and called on him to quit.
Leo is liberated
Something funny happened in those days and weeks after Messi's impulsive retirement. Argentina, which had essentially distanced itself from him - for years, there were very few murals or tributes or posters of Messi even in Rosario, his birthplace - realized that it needed him, and began reciprocating his love.