Lionel Messi has retired - and I think football just lost a little bit of magic

I didn't really think I'd be writing this today.

I've spent most of today thinking about what to say about Lionel Messi retiring from international football, and every time I started putting words together, they sounded a bit ridiculous.

Because what do you actually say about Lionel Messi?

He's scored 125 goals for Argentina.

He's played 207 times for his country.

He's won the World Cup.

He's won two Copa América titles.

He's won eight Ballon d'Ors.

He's won pretty much everything there is to win.

And now, at 39, he's decided that enough is enough.

Argentina have confirmed that the man who became their most-capped player and their all-time leading scorer has played his final international match. His last game was the 2026 World Cup final against Spain.

I could write a list of his achievements.

There are plenty of them.

But that isn't really what I'm feeling tonight.

I'm just a bit sad.

Because I grew up watching footballers.

I've loved loads of them.

Some made me jump off the sofa.

Some made me shout at the television.

Some made me spend ridiculous amounts of money on shirts I didn't need.

But Messi was different.

I remember the moment I realised he was different

I'd already heard of him.

Obviously.

By the time he was playing regularly for Barcelona, you couldn't avoid hearing about this ridiculously talented little Argentine who apparently did things with a football that normal human beings weren't supposed to be able to do.

But there was one moment when it really clicked for me.

Barcelona against Getafe.

April 2007.

Messi was 19.

He picked the ball up inside his own half and started running.

And running.

And then he went past one player.

Then another.

Then another.

Then another.

He kept going until there was basically nobody left between him and the goal.

Then he rounded the goalkeeper and put the ball in.

I'd seen great players before.

I'd seen brilliant goals.

I'd seen players dribble past defenders.

But I remember watching that and thinking:

"Footballers aren't supposed to be able to do that."

It was ridiculous.

The goal immediately drew comparisons with Diego Maradona's famous run against England in 1986.

And I understood why.

But there was something about Messi that made me stop thinking about comparisons altogether.

I just wanted to watch him.

You know that feeling when you hear a great song?

I'm a massive ELO fan.

The Beatles too.

I'm forever listening to music.

Sometimes when the football is on, which my family thinks is slightly strange.

Although I don't see the problem.

I've got two ears.

One can listen to ELO.

The other can listen to the football.

That's science.

Anyway, there's a feeling you get when you hear a genuinely brilliant song for the first time.

I remember hearing Bohemian Rhapsody properly when I was younger and thinking:

There isn't a better song in the world than this.

Not necessarily forever.

Not scientifically.

I'm not suggesting I've conducted a study.

I mean in that moment.

For those few minutes, nothing else comes close.

That's how watching Messi felt.

You could spend all week watching football.

You could watch Ronaldo.

You could watch great midfielders, great strikers, great defenders.

Then Messi would get the ball.

And for a few seconds, everything else disappeared.

You didn't need to know what was going to happen.

You just wanted to see what he was going to do.

That's a rare thing.

Really rare.

Is Messi the greatest footballer ever?

Here we go.

The argument.

The one that has caused approximately 14 billion arguments between football fans.

Messi or Maradona?

Messi or Pelé?

Messi or Ronaldo?

And depending on your age, you can add another five names to the list.

I don't think there's a mathematical answer.

Football isn't like the 100 metres.

You can't line everyone up from every era and give them a stopwatch.

The game changes.

The pitches change.

The tactics change.

The training changes.

The equipment changes.

The quality of the opposition changes.

So comparing players from completely different generations is almost impossible.

But if you're asking me who I would want to watch?

That's easy.

Messi.

And I don't even need to think about it.

The numbers are ridiculous anyway

Even if you want to make the argument entirely about statistics, Messi gives you plenty to work with.

He leaves international football as Argentina's record appearance-maker and leading goalscorer, with 207 appearances and 125 goals. He won the World Cup in 2022 and followed that with another World Cup final appearance in 2026. He also won the Copa América in 2021 and 2024.

Eight Ballon d'Ors.

Think about that.

Eight.

I can barely remember what I had for breakfast.

He's also scored hundreds of goals for Barcelona, won league titles, Champions Leagues, domestic cups and pretty much every individual honour you could name.

And then there's Argentina.

That's the part of his story I find particularly fascinating.

Because for years, there was this strange idea that Messi hadn't quite done it for Argentina.

As if winning basically everything with Barcelona somehow didn't count.

He lost finals.

He came close.

He got criticised.

He even briefly retired from international football in 2016 before returning.

Then something changed.

He won the Copa América.

Then another.

Then the World Cup.

And suddenly the argument sounded very different.

Qatar 2022

I've watched that World Cup final several times.

I suspect I will watch it several more.

Argentina and France.

Messi scoring.

Mbappé scoring.

Messi scoring again.

Mbappé completing his hat-trick.

Extra time.

Penalties.

Absolute chaos.

And somehow Messi ended up lifting the World Cup.

After all those years of people telling us that he needed to win it.

I remember thinking afterwards:

Well, there goes that argument.

You could still prefer Maradona.

You could still prefer Pelé.

You could still prefer Ronaldo.

That's football.

But you couldn't really say Messi hadn't completed the set anymore.

And then there was England

This year's World Cup gave me another Messi moment.

Argentina played England in the semi-final.

England took the lead.

Argentina came back and eventually won 2-1, with Enzo Fernández and Lautaro Martínez scoring late to turn the game around. Messi didn't score.

But I remember thinking about something while watching it.

His aura.

It's a funny word.

Sounds a bit daft when you say it out loud.

But I think it's real.

Messi didn't need to score to influence that game.

England knew where he was.

Every time he got near the ball, you felt the attention shift.

You knew the opposition couldn't just ignore him.

And that changes a football match.

It changes where defenders stand.

It changes who gets closed down.

It creates space.

It makes people nervous.

And even when he wasn't doing anything spectacular, you were still watching him.

That's the strange thing about Messi.

You knew he was there.

And that was enough.

At 39 years old, after everything he'd already achieved, I was still sitting there thinking:

"Go on then, Lionel. Do something."

He didn't have to.

The fact that I was still waiting for it said everything.

That's what I'll miss

I'll miss that feeling.

The little pause when Messi receives the ball.

The defenders backing away.

The crowd making that noise.

That tiny moment where everybody knows something might happen.

And then he goes.

Left.

Right.

Left again.

Someone gets turned inside out.

Another player appears from nowhere.

And suddenly he's looking at goal.

I've watched it hundreds of times.

And somehow it never got boring.

That's the remarkable thing.

You can know what's coming and still enjoy it.

Like your favourite song.

You know every word.

You know exactly when the guitar comes in.

You know the big bit is coming.

And you still turn the volume up.

He wasn't perfect

And this is probably important.

Because football has a habit of turning great players into mythical creatures.

Messi wasn't perfect.

He had bad games.

He missed chances.

He lost finals.

He had difficult moments with Argentina.

He could disappear from games.

He could look frustrated.

He could be human.

That's part of why I loved watching him.

The magic meant something because it wasn't guaranteed.

You could watch a match and think Messi hadn't been at his best.

Then he'd get one moment.

One touch.

One pass.

One run.

And suddenly you remembered.

Oh yeah. That's Lionel Messi.

The Ronaldo argument will never end

And I wouldn't want it to.

Cristiano Ronaldo was extraordinary.

Completely different player.

Different body.

Different personality.

Different style.

Different strengths.

Different career.

And for years we were incredibly lucky to watch the two of them compete at the same time.

I don't even think football fans realised how spoiled we were.

We were watching two players who had completely ridiculous standards competing against each other for more than a decade.

One scored.

The other scored.

One broke a record.

The other broke it.

One won something.

The other wanted it.

And football fans got to argue about it every five minutes.

I've had that argument more times than I care to admit.

I've also had it with people who clearly hadn't watched either of them properly.

That's when you know the conversation is going well.

But greatness isn't just records

This is where I come back to the music.

If somebody asked me to prove that The Beatles are one of the greatest bands ever, I could give them statistics.

Albums sold.

Number ones.

Awards.

Influence.

All of it.

But none of those things explain what it feels like when A Day in the Life comes on.

They don't explain why I still stop what I'm doing when an ELO song comes on that I've heard a thousand times.

Numbers tell you something.

They don't tell you everything.

And I think that's true of Messi.

You can give me his goals.

His assists.

His trophies.

His Ballon d'Ors.

His records.

I'll happily look at all of them.

But none of them explain that feeling when he picked up the ball against Getafe and started running.

None of them explain why I leaned forward every time he got possession.

None of them explain why a 39-year-old Messi playing against England could still make me think something magical might happen.

That's the bit statistics can't capture.

"Numbers tell you something. They don't tell you everything."

And now it's over

Well.

The Argentina part, anyway.

Messi is still playing club football with Inter Miami, so technically I haven't lost him completely.

But Argentina was different.

That shirt.

That number 10.

The captain's armband.

The national anthem.

The World Cup.

Those nights.

That's finished now.

Messi has confirmed his international retirement at 39, saying the decision hurts but that he understands the time has come. He leaves Argentina after 21 years, 207 appearances and 125 goals.

His final match for Argentina was the 2026 World Cup final against Spain.

They lost 1-0 after extra time.

I don't know if that's the ending he wanted.

Probably not.

But perhaps there's no perfect ending to a career like this.

I keep thinking about that word - aura

Because I think that's what made Messi different.

There are brilliant footballers.

There are players who dominate games.

There are players who score ridiculous numbers of goals.

There are players who win trophies.

Then there are players who change the way everyone else behaves simply because they're on the pitch.

Messi did that.

You couldn't completely switch him off.

You couldn't relax when he had the ball.

You couldn't assume that a game was safe.

You always had that little thought in the back of your mind:

What if he does something?

That's aura.

And perhaps that's the best way I can explain why I'm sad today.

I'm not sad because a footballer has stopped playing for Argentina.

I'm sad because one of the things I loved most about watching football is disappearing.

That feeling that something impossible might happen.

So, is he the greatest?

Ask me on another day and I might give you a different answer.

Ask Maradona's biggest fans and you'll get a different answer.

Ask a Pelé fan.

Ask a Ronaldo fan.

You'll get another one.

And that's fine.

I'm not interested in pretending there's an objective answer.

But if you ask me:

Who gave you the most moments where you forgot about everything else and just watched?

It's Messi.

No question.

And maybe that's enough.

Because football isn't only about who scored the most goals.

It's about how people make you feel.

Messi made me feel like I was watching something I wasn't supposed to be able to see.

Like football had briefly ignored its own rules.

Like a song you'd heard a thousand times had somehow become brilliant again.

Like Bohemian Rhapsody coming on when you're not expecting it, for those few minutes, there isn't a better sound in the world.

That's Messi for me.

And now, when he pulls on that Argentina shirt no more, I'll know that one of my favourite chapters of football has finished.

I'm grateful I got to watch it.

Bloody hell, though.

He was great.

Theo