Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a football fan. I would love to be able to live moments like this just out of curiosity, speculate about the future and the transfer market without playing anything at it. I don’t care so much, to the point of ending up crying from my bed in Buenos Aires at the same time as one Rosario which is in Barcelona, on a Sunday at seven in the morning. But in my history, and that of my family, Barça is very important. My grandparents, mother and aunt lived in Barcelona because of the dictatorship. When they returned, they brought new things from the place they had adopted: Catalan, bread with tomato and Jabugo ham, the Kings and, above all, Barça. The next generation, mine, my cousins and siblings, were raised with all these additions, so as children we had both the Boca and Barça teams and most of us have Catalan or common names in Barcelona. I don’t know what would have happened if Messi had never worn this shirt, but I do know what happened. I can’t explain the amount of parties we watched together, piled up in my grandmother’s room, listening to them on the radio or on the street, in the dining room at home with the rock and all wallpapered with flags, posters and t-shirts.
It is easy, always winning, to think that everything is eternal, to believe and hope that it will never end
Having Messi break with everything every time he played was a source of encounter for my family many, many times. We kept packets of ham for important parties, ordered T-shirts, cartridges, scarves, socks and backpacks which we then passed on. We sang the anthem a thousand times, we learned it and we forgot it, they corrected our pronunciation, we called the family of Barcelona and New York to comment on the victories, celebrate the goals and hate the rivals. We got used to winning and shouting, always together. We cried like crazy and crazy when Joan and Teo met Messi and the rest of the team in a fact that they described as the most important day of their lives. It is easy, always winning, to think that everything is eternal, to believe and hope that it will never end. The pandemic came and we couldn’t get together anymore. There was no football for many months, and we put up with it well enough. We saw Leo championing our country and we were glad he hadn’t been happy for a long time. And when we least expected it, this news arrived. I personally didn’t want to believe her. No companion had spoken. Only Puyol saying they were hard times. I thought there were hopes, I invented conspiracies in the press where there were none. But circumstances made him give up, and what a hard time. We have all grown up. We are less and we are more. I don’t know what would have happened if Messi had stayed at Barça, I don’t know if we could have always kept together for the most important matches, if it would have been as crucial as it had been so far. But I do know what happened. Messi is our childhood, our family, all the screams, the messages, the hugs. That’s why I cry like this now, that’s why I’ll never reconcile with the idea that it’s all over, that’s why the flea that became a goat will always play a leading role in my heart. And I haven’t even had time to talk about football. Thanks. I’m already starting to plan the party we’ll have when you come back.
Mar Helman
27 years
Buenos Aires
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