How Messi Stepped Out of Maradona’s Shadow and Defied the Prophecy of 1928 | OneFootball

In more ways than one, Lionel Messi and Diego Maradona have fulfilled a mystical prophecy foretold nearly 100 years ago. But through all the peaks and the troughs, Messi has created an image of his own which simply can’t be replicated.

In 1928, Argentine magazine El Grafico presented a very distinct image of the country’s future savior.

Journalist Ricardo Lorenzo, also known as Borocoto, predicted what the talisman of Argentina football would look like as the country rapidly marched towards urbanization in the 1920s. Despite the new industry that surrounded the country, Borocoto posed that the essence of Argentine football lay in the streets, where kids would play on uneven surfaces, get hacked down only to immediately get back up, and use instinct to find solutions and dribble past the entire team if needed.

To Borocoto, this spirit would be best symbolized by a short-statured mischievous street urchin, or pibe. He would be dribbling a ragged ball while donning rebellious, unkempt hair, with worn out shorts that depicted where he came from. His knees would carry bruises and wounds from playing on the streets but they wouldn’t be enough to wipe the cunning glint in his eyes.

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Eerily enough, Borocoto’s prophecy would come true decades later in the form of Diego Maradona.

The fierce yet diminutive football genius fit the mold almost too perfectly. He could lift the weight of the entire nation and do it very willingly, almost like it came as second nature to him. His in-your-face persona was an emblem of rebellion that the pibe’s messy hair was meant to symbolize. He never backed away from a scrap and ran directly at defenses when given the chance.

Maradona’s spell at Napoli became an archetypal example of his ability to drag teams towards silverware. In Italy, it was clear there was sometimes no legitimate way of stopping the maverick from dictating terms on the pitch. It shaped him into being a vocal man of the people that the city of Naples desperately needed in their rebellion against the dominant Italian north.

More than anyone, it was Argentina who benefitted. And this came at a pivotal point in the nation’s history. The likes of Mario Kempes, Osvaldo Ardilles, and Ubaldo Fillol were nearing the end of their international prominence and Maradona had to be the torch-bearer of huge expectations that filtered down from the 1978 World Cup triumph.

Being a central figure and the focus of the limelight is all Maradona needed, having spent his childhood years doing keepy-ups at Los Cebollitas during halftime intervals. He was no stranger to the treatment. If anything, he demanded it, which is best typified by his political statements before the famous game against England at the 1986 World Cup. His on-pitch performance matched that, with the Hand of God becoming an immortal proof of his rebellious, win-at-all-costs tenacity. Instead of shedding that skin, he embraced it.

This off-pitch persona added to the charm. Maradona became someone people could follow to war. He could convince them of it simply through verbiage. Despite his obvious flaws, no one doubted Maradona’s Argentine-ness in his prime or downfall.

The same was never really true when Lionel Messi rose to the fray.

While Maradona was the typical pibe that El Grafico proudly wrote about, Messi was different.

He immigrated to Spain at an early age and the structured ways of the La Masia academy shaped him into the virtuoso that awe struck us all. While similar to his spiritual predecessor when he took to the pitch, Messi came through a system which focused on the team rather than an individual. He retained his on-pitch individuality and soon, everything revolved around him when Pep Guardiola took charge. At the same time, he would always be viewed as the boy from La Masia and not as the boy from the outskirts of Buenos Aires.

More than that, Messi wasn’t exactly the pibe that the prophecy wanted the Argentine messiah to be. Coming through a structure made him less of a rebel. His presence was more of sensitivity than overt expression, but that would change when he played.

Until a point, that is all that mattered to Argentina. The heroics of the teams in the 1980s and 1990s were still fresh in the fans’ collective memory. The 2010 World Cup wasn’t seen as a watershed moment whatsoever. It was the first of many for the young attacker, as his stock continued to grow.

But as years drifted along, the burden of carrying the nation to a crown like Maradona did grew heavier. It became an obligation almost, something he had to give back to his country. The failure to win the final in 2014 added to this expectation and at points, Messi even thrived in that pressure. But to many, he lacked the “X-factor” to truly lead a country to silverware. They felt fiery Maradona had that nastiness needed to command a force, when Messi was somehow meek.

There were even doubts over his Argentine-ness. He wasn’t vocal about the Falkland Islands and shyness shone through when he spoke. Many in his home country felt he was much more committed to Barcelona than to Argentina and it wasn’t going to change. And Messi felt it until he couldn’t take it anymore.

His international retirement after the 2016 Copa America was seen as a sign of weakness for those who watched Maradona. The nation’s messiah wasn’t meant to be weak or show any signs of it. But Messi broke that rule and it didn’t sit right. He was too sensitive to lead and sorely lacked the charisma which could win everyone over instantly. Simply put, he wasn’t meant to shed tears.

Doubts remained, even if he did return. But his initial retirement was always going to be a permanent blot on his resume, unless he won the big one. Failure in 2018 didn’t help, and there was growing belief Messi was simply running out of time.

And when Argentina shockingly lost to Saudi Arabia to kick off the 2022 World Cup, familiar doubts resurfaced, at least for a few days. The context screamed in the background and in a strange way, Argentina’s quarterfinal clash against the Netherlands became a reminder of the contrast between the country’s icons. As the game boiled over and Messi himself got involved, it could have easily spilled over into something more violent than it was. The defiant Maradona would’ve used that to pour out his pecho caliente that his successor didn’t express.

Instead, it became famous for the “que mira bobo” quip which managed to escape Messi’s mouth during a post-game interview. It was aimed at Wout Weghorst but more than the delivery, it was the lack of malice that stood out. It is a phrase teenagers would use at a playground, while keeping boundaries of obscenity intact. It was Messi’s own way of expressing defiance when the spotlight was on him to act for his team.

And act he did, while being himself and being Argentine in his retort. Meme culture has somehow managed to dilute what that moment meant to those in Argentina. It was at that point that many in the country started believing, for real. The air of inevitability grew thicker and things just felt different from how they were in the last few editions. Lionel Scaloni’s side worked through Messi and it was almost as if everything was built around him.

It became more about football than anything else. That suited a genius who has always been about the game. He went about making things tick effortlessly, cutting out the reducing noise around him and operating with a sense of calm which wasn’t always seen before for his country.

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In many ways, Argentina winning the World Cup in 2022 was only an added element to Messi’s reputation. He didn’t need to be anyone else to reach that milestone. Through the rise, fall, tears and the “que mira bobo,” he did it his way. There was never any urge to become a hyper-masculine role model or a politically opinionated figure who has a say about everything. It was always him marching to the beat of his own drum.

More than anything, it is Argentina that needed it as an escape. It wasn’t a country at the nascent stage of democracy like it was in the 1980s, when there was hope for a better world. In the 2020s, that hope had simply faded. Inflation cracked the 90% margin and poverty stood at about 40%. The loss of identity meant football was desperately relied on for social cohesion.

Messi did it during the country’s era of desperation. Perhaps, doing it again in 2026 could have added further shine but even in defeat, there lay a stark reminder of who he was. But he wasn’t meant to be chasing it all over again. He still was going at it graciously while bordering 40, breaking open defenses, using the pitch as probably his only canvas for expression.

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His tears did flow at the end of that night in New Jersey as another reminder for who he is. And if there was anyone questioning his Argentine-ness, even they found themselves at least a touch teary-eyed when all of it ended.