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Journalism of Courage
The room was dimly lit, the light-brown ceiling and plywood- panelled walls amplifying the dimness. Like before the screening of a movie, there were hushed whispers. There were worried brows and excited faces as the seconds ticked down with the length of an hour. “It’s so long, where is he?” one among the hundreds of journalists asked and then looked at his watch, “Oh! five more minutes!”. The cameramen, slumped on the floor, kept readjusting for that perfect frame. Some were composing a selfie frame.
Then Lionel Messi gushed into the room, pulled a chair and flashed the equivalent of Mona Lisa’s smile in the sporting world. A smile that could be interpreted as cryptic, mysterious, or even not a smile at all. The room, suddenly, seemed brighter. A feeble hola escaped his mouth.
The press officer quietly announces: “We have the Argentina captain here.”
“We have Lionel Messi” would have sounded awkward. Introductions are redundant. Even before she could complete her next sentence — raise your hands — a hundred hands had been flung in the air.
A flash of surprise flickered across her face. “We can’t have so many!” she says coldly. Messi comes out of his Mona Lisa smile. He pierces the earplug of the microphone into his right ear. Like standing over the ball before a free kick. He runs his left palm through the stubble and tunes in diligently into the question.
The question amuses him. He might have been anticipating it. It would inevitably centre on his fitness. Rumours of a potentially dangerous injury were floating around after he was spotted training alone with coach Lionel Scaloni on Saturday.
Messi allayed the fears. First with a giggle, a throwback to his fresh-faced teenage avatar, and then with reassuring words: “I’m hearing what you say about me about training alone and things, but I’m very fine physically and have no issues whatsoever. I heard there were rumours about me having to miss part of the training,” he explains. He then reasserted: “No, it’s just precautions. Nothing strange or out of the ordinary”. There was not a scent of irritation in his tone.
It’s a routine pre-tournament hoax of sorts, says Alejandro Lopez, a freelance photographer. “Someone would speculate that Leo is injured and it becomes a national concern, obviously. Maybe, you could sell a few more copies of the paper or get more watch-time. We have been hearing such stuff for ages, before every season, every COPA, World Cup and qualification games. Our country always needs to hear something about Leo.”
Nonetheless, the Argentinian press heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps the whole world would have too.
Hero of the world
The questions rattled in and the answers rushed out, so fast that it felt like one was in the middle of a torrential outpour. But to one specific question, his answer was slower than usual. He turned emotional, smiled a smile of gratitude. The query was: “What do you feel about the universal love you get?”
“Muchas Gracias,” he begins the sentence, then pauses, perhaps searching for the perfect words, and then resumes: “It’s beautiful that a lot of people who aren’t Argentine want Argentina to be champion in large part because of me. I’m grateful for all the love I’ve received throughout my career,” he says.
Then with a twinkle in his eyes, he elaborates his Qatar World Cup dreams: “This World Cup is very special for me. Probably the last one to try and achieve my dream. I enjoy all this a lot more. I felt more comfortable the more minutes I played and that’s what I tried to do until I reached the World Cup.”
There is a bead of regret too: “I kind of missed a lot of important things that happened to me during my career.”
He then moves on to tactics and team spirit and such-like platitudes, before the press officer announces the end of the 15-minute interaction. No one pestered, “One more question, please.”
They probably had more questions, but they would not disturb. Everyone wanted to present their most polished side before Messi. Instead, they rose from their seats and clapped. Messi was overwhelmed, turned back, flashed a thumbs-up and flew a louder Muchas Gracias and strolled to the exit.
But on the edge of the dais, a few journalists quietly asked him for a selfie. He bent and obliged. As he walked out of the room, the light in the room dimmed too. The ceiling and walls wore a pallid, lifeless look.
