Messi 2022, Maradona 1990

Any World Cup allows for a more or less canonical story, with the exception of Italy 90. It is hard to remember the winner —in case of doubt, always Germany— because the rhythm of the competition was set by Maradona, who did not need to play even half well to take over. the narrative: the extraordinary play that preceded Caniggia's goal in the victory over Brazil in the round of 16, the Neapolitan claim that pierced Italy-Argentina like a dagger in the semifinals and, in the final, his furious reaction to the booing of the anthem at the Olympic in Rome.

That's how gigantic the character was.

For now, with two games to go, the narrative axis of this World Cup corresponds to Messi and the emotional epic of the Argentine team.

Leo Messi captains a double adventure, his own, which this time does not escape Maradona either, and that of a team that works hard to help and protect him.

In Qatar, the playful nature of soccer is determined to reproduce the path of Argentina in the World Cup in Italy.

Like Maradona then, Messi presides over a team defeated in the first match, subjected to enormous suffering in the first phase and in the round of 16, destined to resolve the quarterfinals on penalties —Yugoslavia there, Holland here— and again with the whole nation on edge.

This Messi also encourages us to think of Maradona 90, not the resounding phenomenon of Mexico 86. It may be a coincidence, but one missed a penalty —against Yugoslavia in the final shootout— and the other, too (Saudi Arabia).

Even to flash the light they are alike: the drive and the blind pass to Caniggia in the face of the harassment of Brazilian markers, Messi's escape from the Dutch defensive trap and his glorious connection with Molina in the first Argentine goal.

Protected by a guard who dies to defend him — Maradona and the selfless Argentina of the 90s come back to mind — Messi walks more than anyone in this World Cup, in an era of football that does not tolerate the walker.

There is not the slightest feeling of reproach in the team.

On the contrary, they preserve him from expenses, trusting in the revenue from his calambrazos.

Argentina has understood it that way and the plan works for them, perhaps because in his own way Messi makes fun of the current physical boil.

Waiting for the blow to come, Messi turns his condition as a walker into a camouflage resource.

In the midst of the general waste, of the obsession with dynamics, Messi uses the absent-minded pace of the andantes to hide from the rivals, program his energy reserve and watch how people whiz by around him.

It is a paradox that threatens the current reality in football, but that Messi takes advantage of as a predator.

When he appears it is too late for the rival.

He has made an art of invisibility.

Unlike other teams —Brazil, France, England…—, Argentina does not have players worth a fortune.

In this respect, too, it resembles the version of the 1990 World Cup. It is a team that captivates, and even excites, due to its fervent protection of Messi and its ability to survive the succession of dramas since the defeat against Saudi Arabia in the first game.

Not even Australia allowed him to live a quiet night.

With five days to go before the final, Argentina is following a path it already knows, with a player to whom it surrenders without fainting, with an impressive expenditure of physical and emotional energy.

He has helped him train in adversity and multiply internal cohesion, it is not known if in exchange for exhaustion on the finish line.

Messi is in charge of the other, emerging from the fog, the protagonist of a fascinating story: going one step further than Maradona in 1990.

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