Messi is the Greatest ! Period

Is Lionel Messi the greatest footballer ever…

32 teams gathered in Qatar to play for the ultimate prize in football. Over the next few weeks, they played each other several times. Some won matches, and some lost them, but won hearts, as is often the case in all World Cups.
This time, however, there was just a question that everyone wanted to answer. Will Lionel Messi, in what would probably be his last foray, get across the final frontier to complete an otherwise incomplete story? Almost everyone who cared wanted it to happen. Will he be the one they call the GOAT.
After surviving a scare in the group stages, Argentina was pulled along by Messi into the finals, and the world waited with bated breath,
The final had everything you wanted. Evenly matched teams, legends with scars to show, and wannabes with a future beckoning them. For most of the match, the Argentines were on top. They were solid in possession while France was wasteful. Messi was at his usual best, a flick here, a nudge there, while the others played along.
In the opening half, Angel Di Maria was sparkling, the veteran was busy on the left flank. Twisting, turning, and creating an overload for the disorganised French back line. As Di Maria twisted and turned and went around Dembele, he was tripped and Messi converted from the spot to get the Argentines onto the score sheet.
In the 36th minute, Messi flicked a ball onward to spark off a break. Mac Allister, the floater, burst away and was in the box in a flash. A clear layoff for Di Maria left Lloris with no chance.
Argentina kept things tight. De Paul was industrious, Romero handled the defence with authority, and Mac Allister, a revelation in this World Cup, continued to be everywhere. With a 2 goal lead, they almost had their hands on the cup.
The second half was not much different; it took a long time before the French could even get a shot at goal. Deschamps pushed in reinforcements, and it worked. Mbappe now had more space as Coman, Thuram, and Camavinga ensured more possession. Ottamendi’s foul in the box gave away a penalty, and Mbappe obliged. The fightback was on. In the very next minute, Thuram fed Mbappe a flat aerial ball on the left edge of the box. With a lot of space around, he wrapped his leg around the ball and sent it into the corner, and France was on par.
They went into extra time and scored once each, with Mbappe scoring his third, the only man after Geoff Hurst to score a hat-trick in the final. The cruelty of a shootout was played out after 120 minutes. An imposing Martinez in goal, aided by some overawed French youngsters, sparked off a celebration as Argentina took the Cup home for the third time.
It had to finish this way. It was almost preordained to be this way and no other way. Poetic justice it was.

The story of Messi was complete. The Legend was rounded off now. The piece of art was complete.

The first stroke of colour splayed onto the canvas that is a piece of art today was on August 17, 2005, when a long-haired 17-year-old Lionel Messi came on for Argentina as a substitute. Since then, millions of colours have been added. Over the last 18 years, footballing gods have been painting their magnum opus. There, of course, have been grey shades and dark overhangs to keep the brilliant colours company. It was a joy to watch the piece of art come to life.

On this day, somewhere out there in the heavens, the gods finally drew their gilt-edged biros and signed their most mesmerizing work to date.
After a few centuries, a South American story was added to the 1001 stories of the Arabian Nights.

In the land of the very Arabian nights the 1002nd was to be added from a noisy, delirious setting in Qatar. A story for the ages.

It has been a masterpiece that has brought smiles to the faces of millions over the years and deserves the heady finish it got.

Much has been written by many over the last two decades about how this genial genius has graced the game.

However, this time, as he achieved the ultimate glory, journalists in the box at Lusail and commentators on air elsewhere were all frozen and numbed.

Words failed them, fingers froze, and sentences gasped for breath. It was a night when one realised the inadequacy of a language to express the depth of human emotions.

Language was martyred, and adjectives and punctuations lost relevance and felt shamefully inadequate.

Only two of them survived, one an adjective and the other a punctuation mark, to summarise a story etched forever into the history of this beautiful sport.