Some people we never meet, yet they somehow live inside our hearts. They don't know we exist. They don't know that somewhere far away, someone smiles when they smile, cries when they cry. For me, that person is Lionel Messi.
October 6, 2026. Buenos Aires. 85,000 people. Messi wore the Argentina shirt one last time. His 208th match. His 126th goal. A 3-0 win over Benin. A standing ovation in the 10th minute. A giant jersey that said "Gracias." Drones in the sky spelling "Gracias Leo." His three sons on the pitch. And then, the words: "I would like to play forever, but it is time to leave."
That was it. The end.
I sat there, staring at the screen, feeling something I can't explain. The same feeling I had in 2006 when I first saw his face in a magazine.
My friends had posters of Bollywood actors. I had a cutout of some Argentine kid. They thought I was weird. Maybe I was.
Here's the funny part. Messi was born in Rosario. My surname is also Rosario. Messi plays for Inter Miami in Florida. My name is Florida. Coincidence? Maybe.
In 2022, during the World Cup in Qatar, I became superstitious. I watched alone. No one in the room. Same shirt. Same chair. Ridiculous? Absolutely. Did I care? No.
The final against France. Argentina 2-0 up. Mbappe scored. Then again. Messi scored in extra time. Mbappe again. 3-3. Penalties. I couldn't watch. I closed my laptop. Opened my Bible. And prayed.
"Take one year from my life. Give it to Messi. Let him win. Please."
I meant it. Every word. I was 13 again, bargaining with God over a football match. Pathetic? Maybe. But it worked. Argentina won. Messi lifted the World Cup.
I ran out of my house at midnight. Dhaka was celebrating. Strangers were hugging. For one night, everyone was Argentine. I didn't sleep. I watched the final again. And again.
This time, I didn't pray. I didn't bargain. I just watched. When the match stopped in the 10th minute, I cried. When the drone show started, I cried. When Messi hugged his sons, I cried. When he said those words, I cried.
My roommate asked what was wrong. I said, "Nothing. Everything."
How do you explain that a man you've never met has been part of your life for twenty years? That you grew up with him? That you learned what joy feels like because of him? That you learned what heartbreak feels like because of him?
You can't. You just cry.
But that's not why I loved him. I loved him because he was shy. Because he was awkward. Because he cried when he won and when he lost. Because he played like a child who had just discovered football. Because he never pretended to be something he wasn't.
He didn't give grand speeches. He just played. And when it was time to say goodbye, he said it simply. "I would like to play forever, but it is time to leave."
That's it. Just honesty.
But that's okay. He doesn't need to know.
2006 - 2026. Twenty years. I grew up watching him. I learned to love, to lose, to hope, to grieve all while watching him.
Stay well, Lionel Messi. Thank you for everything. You were my first love. You will always be my first love.
For more personal stories and reflections, keep visiting ShineMat.com tech blog. We are here for you. Comment and share plz. Happy day Shiners.
October 6, 2026. Buenos Aires. 85,000 people. Messi wore the Argentina shirt one last time. His 208th match. His 126th goal. A 3-0 win over Benin. A standing ovation in the 10th minute. A giant jersey that said "Gracias." Drones in the sky spelling "Gracias Leo." His three sons on the pitch. And then, the words: "I would like to play forever, but it is time to leave."
That was it. The end.
I sat there, staring at the screen, feeling something I can't explain. The same feeling I had in 2006 when I first saw his face in a magazine.
How It All Started?
Boarding school. Strict rules. No phones. No TV. No magazines. I was 13. One vacation, I smuggled a magazine into the hostel. Didn't even know what was inside. Opened it one afternoon. First page. An 18 year old Argentine boy with brown hair. That was it. My first crush.My friends had posters of Bollywood actors. I had a cutout of some Argentine kid. They thought I was weird. Maybe I was.
Here's the funny part. Messi was born in Rosario. My surname is also Rosario. Messi plays for Inter Miami in Florida. My name is Florida. Coincidence? Maybe.
The Madness | The Messi
I lied to hostel superintendents to go home and watch matches. I sat in the garden after curfew, watching games on a tiny screen, and caught dengue. I cut out every Messi photo from newspapers. My diary had more Messi pictures than words.In 2022, during the World Cup in Qatar, I became superstitious. I watched alone. No one in the room. Same shirt. Same chair. Ridiculous? Absolutely. Did I care? No.
The final against France. Argentina 2-0 up. Mbappe scored. Then again. Messi scored in extra time. Mbappe again. 3-3. Penalties. I couldn't watch. I closed my laptop. Opened my Bible. And prayed.
"Take one year from my life. Give it to Messi. Let him win. Please."
I meant it. Every word. I was 13 again, bargaining with God over a football match. Pathetic? Maybe. But it worked. Argentina won. Messi lifted the World Cup.
I ran out of my house at midnight. Dhaka was celebrating. Strangers were hugging. For one night, everyone was Argentine. I didn't sleep. I watched the final again. And again.
The Glory Farewell
This time, I didn't pray. I didn't bargain. I just watched. When the match stopped in the 10th minute, I cried. When the drone show started, I cried. When Messi hugged his sons, I cried. When he said those words, I cried.
My roommate asked what was wrong. I said, "Nothing. Everything."
How do you explain that a man you've never met has been part of your life for twenty years? That you grew up with him? That you learned what joy feels like because of him? That you learned what heartbreak feels like because of him?
You can't. You just cry.
What He Meant to Me?
Messi won everything. Eight Ballon d'Ors. Four Champions Leagues. The World Cup. Over 900 goals. A billionaire. A legend.But that's not why I loved him. I loved him because he was shy. Because he was awkward. Because he cried when he won and when he lost. Because he played like a child who had just discovered football. Because he never pretended to be something he wasn't.
He didn't give grand speeches. He just played. And when it was time to say goodbye, he said it simply. "I would like to play forever, but it is time to leave."
That's it. Just honesty.
The All End...
Messi may never know how many hearts broke on October 6, 2026. He may never know that in Dhaka, Bangladesh, a 33-year-old woman cried for a man she never met. He may never know that a part of her childhood died with his farewell.But that's okay. He doesn't need to know.
2006 - 2026. Twenty years. I grew up watching him. I learned to love, to lose, to hope, to grieve all while watching him.
Stay well, Lionel Messi. Thank you for everything. You were my first love. You will always be my first love.
For more personal stories and reflections, keep visiting ShineMat.com tech blog. We are here for you. Comment and share plz. Happy day Shiners.
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