For the History Books

The World Cup has come and gone again. Like every World Cup, it ends as soon as it starts, and like every World Cup, we can never go back. Originally, I wanted to make a post breaking down my predictions and looking ahead at what the future looks like for some of the teams I talked about, but I don’t think any of that matters. This World Cup was so full of emotions for me, so I want to send a farewell into the void instead. 

Lionel Messi crying, looking at the crowd as they chant his name, was the perfect ending for a World Cup that was a painful reminder of how everything is different in my life now. That I am now officially old. I have watched Messi play football for as long as I can remember, and what an honor it has been to watch and fall in love with the beautiful game through the greatest player to ever play it. But like Messi, I have accepted the fact that my life is not a fairytale. Things will go wrong, a lot. It’s not the point to “reach a goal” or “achieve a dream”, but to always do things for the love of the game, regardless of the outcome. Lionel Messi, at 39, still gives us life lessons through his love for the beautiful game. Now, moving around the field like a wise sage, he reminds us that if you do it for the love of the game, it is impossible to lose. As I am about to emerge into what I know will be a more challenging and difficult part of my life, the love of the game is what I want to carry on with me. 

So much of my life, I have thought that I was somehow fated for greatness. That I was somehow “chosen” because of my extraordinary life circumstances. And that thought has done nothing but cripple me. Nothing in life is guaranteed, but it’s always worth it, for the love of the game, for the love of life, and for the love of love. I’ll see you when you’re older, dear reader, as I intend to come back to this blog before the next World Cup, when the love of the game brings me back.