Reflections on Messi’s Remarks: A Brazil Fan Responds

   

Dear Lionel Messi,

You once said, “We could have gone further but we weren't allowed into the final. Corruption, referees, and all the rest stopped people from enjoying the football.” You even added,“Brazil champions? No doubt. Sadly, I think it’s set up for Brazil.”

With due respect, I’d like to respond to both of your statements.

On Your Team's Performance

Firstly, let’s address your frustration about not reaching the final. Honestly, you were fortunate to even reach the semi-final given the underwhelming nature of your team. You and your squad pale in comparison to the Argentina teams led by legends like Gabriel Batistuta and Juan Román Riquelme. Back then, Brazil fans viewed Argentina with a sense of tension and respect because they were a team—a cohesive, well-rounded unit driven by purpose, not just a platform for individual brilliance.  

But the Argentina side you’ve led in recent years? It lacks the same collective identity. Your performances for the national team have often been criticized as underwhelming compared to your club career. And no, this is not just about bad luck or biased refereeing—sometimes, you need to accept that your side wasn't strong enough.

The Condor Plan and the 1978 World Cup Scandal 

Now, let's talk about corruption—since you brought it up. Have you considered the role Argentina played in the real controversies of the past?  

In the second round of the 1978 World Cup, Argentina, as the host, found itself in a tricky position. Brazil had beaten Poland 3-1 and Peru 3-0, meaning Argentina needed a 4-0 or 5-1 win over Peru to qualify for the final. But beating Peru by such a margin wasn’t realistic—at least, not without outside interference. 

This is where politics came into play. Dictator Jorge Videla, desperate to exploit Argentina’s potential triumph to cover up the atrocities of his regime, struck a deal with Peruvian leader Francisco Bermúdez. Videla offered asylum for 13 Peruvian prisoners, but only if Peru "deliberately lost" to Argentina.  

During the match, even Peru’s goalkeeper—a player of Argentine origin—made no real effort to stop the goals, allowing Argentina to win 6-0 and reach the final. Years later, in 2012, former Peruvian Senator Genaro Ledesma confirmed the existence of this sordid arrangement.  

Was that victory the product of sportsmanship, or political corruption?

The 1978 Pitch and Referee Bias 

You have also complained about the poor pitch conditions during the 2019 Copa América. Do you remember how Argentina treated Brazil in the 1978 World Cup? Brazil was forced to play its matches in Mar del Plata, on a substandard pitch that significantly hampered their gameplay. Brazil struggled to adapt and ended up drawing against Spain in one of those matches.  

And then there’s the 1978 incident involving Sweden, where Zico’s last-minute header was controversially ruled out after the referee ended the match abruptly, claiming time had expired. That decision robbed Brazil of the top spot in their group, forcing them into a tougher path. Was that fair? Or was it another example of Argentina manipulating events to its advantage?

FIFA and Your Group Stage "Luck"

Now, let’s address your insinuation about Brazil’s supposed “set-up” to win the Copa América. If we examine FIFA’s treatment of Argentina from 2010 to 2018, we see a pattern that raises questions. Argentina was placed in relatively favourable groups across three consecutive World Cups, always facing Nigeria. In both 2010 and 2014, your team had an easy path out of the group stage.  

But luck can only take you so far. In 2010, an overconfident Argentina underestimated a young German side and was humiliated 4-0. And in 2014, despite an easy route to the final, you were left hoping Germany would go easy on you. The Germans, as always, didn’t oblige.  

In 2018, Argentina was placed in a group with Croatia, Nigeria, and Iceland—hardly the strongest opposition. Yet, your team struggled, finishing second in the group. The French wasted no time in showing Argentina its limitations in the knockout stage.  

Meanwhile, Cristiano Ronaldo was consistently placed in tougher groups and faced greater challenges throughout these tournaments. Brazil, too, has suffered from controversial refereeing decisions—particularly at the 2018 World Cup and on home soil in 2014.  

Selective Memories and Double Standards

If we dig deeper, we could bring up several infamous incidents involving Argentina that cast doubt on your claim of unfair treatment.  

Hand of God: Diego Maradona's blatant handball against England in 1986 remains one of football’s most infamous moments.

The Holy Water Scandal: Argentine staff allegedly gave Brazilian players sedative-laced water during a Copa América match in 1990.  

Italia 1990: Maradona got away with a blatant handball inside his own penalty area against the Soviet Union. 

 

World Cup 1998: Diego Simeone’s theatrics led to David Beckham’s red card, changing the course of England’s campaign.  

2019 vs. Liverpool: Even you, Leo, were accused of placing the ball several meters ahead of the correct spot while taking a decisive free-kick at Camp Nou.

These incidents highlight that Argentina has benefited from questionable decisions on numerous occasions. To now complain about bias or corruption seems hypocritical at best.

In Conclusion: Think Before You Speak

Football, like life, is full of highs and lows. Every team experiences moments of triumph and injustice. But to claim that corruption robbed Argentina in recent tournaments without any concrete evidence is to ignore the privileges and benefits your team has enjoyed throughout history.  

Brazil has endured its share of setbacks and questionable decisions, but we’ve rarely resorted to making excuses. Instead, we’ve focused on rebuilding and striving to be better. You, Leo, are an exceptional player—but it’s time to acknowledge that even legends don’t always win.  

So, next time you feel the urge to point fingers, remember the past. Before accusing others, reflect on the privileges and questionable incidents that have benefited Argentina. And perhaps—just perhaps—you’ll find it wiser to let your football do the talking.

With respect and a love for the beautiful game,  

A Brazil Fan

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

The Clash of Titans: West Germany vs. Netherlands, 1974 World Cup Final

Few matches in the history of football encapsulate the sport’s philosophical divide as vividly as the 1974 World Cup Final between West Germany and the Netherlands. It was not merely a contest for the most coveted trophy in football but a symbolic confrontation between two divergent ideologies. On one side stood the pragmatic, methodical West Germans, champions of Europe in 1972, whose resilience and adaptability had become their hallmark. On the other was the Netherlands, architects of Total Football, a revolutionary concept that sought to redefine the very essence of the game.

The stakes were immense. For West Germany, it was a chance to exorcise the ghosts of their recent past—heartbreaking defeats in the 1966 World Cup final and the 1970 semifinal. For the Netherlands, it was an opportunity to cement their newfound status as a footballing superpower, a position they had never occupied before. Yet, despite their dominance in the preceding European Championship, West Germany entered the match as underdogs in their own backyard, a testament to the magnetic allure of Johan Cruyff and the Dutch ensemble.

The Road to the Final

The journey to the final revealed much about the contrasting characters of the two teams. The Netherlands, under the stewardship of Rinus Michels, introduced the world to Total Football, a system predicated on positional fluidity, spatial manipulation, and relentless pressing. They swept aside opponents with a mixture of artistry and athleticism, scoring 14 goals and conceding just one en route to the final. Their victories over Argentina (4–0) and Brazil (2–0) were masterclasses in both attacking and defensive organization.

West Germany’s campaign, in contrast, was less flamboyant but equally compelling. A shocking 1–0 loss to East Germany in the group stage was a humbling moment that forced introspection. From that point onward, the team tightened its approach, grinding out victories in the second round, including a crucial 1–0 win against Poland. Their strength lay in their collective discipline, with Franz Beckenbauer orchestrating from the back and Gerd Müller providing the cutting edge up front.

The Opening Act: Dutch Dominance

The final began with the Dutch in full flow, embodying the principles of Total Football. Within two minutes, Johan Cruyff, the talismanic captain, carved through the West German defence with a dazzling solo run. His movement forced Uli Hoeneß into a desperate foul, resulting in a penalty. Johan Neeskens converted with ease, giving the Netherlands a 1–0 lead before their opponents had even touched the ball.

This was Total Football at its zenith—fluid, dynamic, and seemingly unstoppable. The Dutch dictated the tempo, their players interchanging positions with an almost telepathic understanding. Yet, there was a hint of hubris in their play. They seemed more intent on showcasing their philosophy than securing the result, a decision that would later haunt them.

The German Response: Pragmatism Over Panache

West Germany’s response was emblematic of their resilience. Recovering from the initial shock, they began to assert themselves physically and tactically. Berti Vogts, tasked with man-marking Cruyff, was relentless, shadowing the Dutch maestro and disrupting his rhythm. Vogts’ physicality earned him an early yellow card, but his persistence paid dividends, forcing Cruyff to drop deeper in search of the ball.

The equalizer came in the 25th minute, a moment of controversy that underscored the fine margins of the game. A counterattack saw Bernd Hölzenbein draw a penalty under dubious circumstances. Paul Breitner, the 23-year-old left-back, stepped up and converted with composure, leveling the score.

From that point, the momentum shifted. West Germany grew in confidence, their attacks orchestrated by Beckenbauer’s elegant distribution and Overath’s incisive passing. Just before halftime, Gerd Müller delivered the decisive blow. In a moment of improvisational brilliance, the Der Bomber turned and struck with his weaker foot, sending the ball into the net. It was a goal that epitomized Müller’s uncanny ability to exploit the slightest defensive lapse.

The Second Half: A Battle of Attrition

Trailing for the first time in the tournament, the Netherlands faced an unfamiliar challenge. Michels introduced René van de Kerkhof to inject energy into the attack, and the Dutch began to press with renewed vigour. Their intricate passing and relentless movement returned, forcing the West Germans onto the back foot.

Yet, the hosts held firm. Beckenbauer, the Kaiser, was a study in composure, breaking up Dutch attacks and launching counters with surgical precision. The West German defence, marshalled by Sepp Maier in goal, absorbed wave after wave of pressure.

As the clock ticked down, the Dutch abandoned their principles, resorting to long balls and frantic attempts to breach the German defence. Their desperation was palpable, and their cohesion unravelled. The match ended with the Netherlands unable to find an equalizer, leaving the West Germans to celebrate a hard-fought 2–1 victory.

The Legacy: Victory and Vindication

For West Germany, the triumph was a vindication of their pragmatic approach. Beckenbauer’s leadership and Müller’s predatory instincts were central to their success, but it was the team’s collective discipline that ultimately prevailed.

The Netherlands, despite their defeat, achieved a form of immortality. Their Total Football philosophy, embodied by Cruyff’s genius, captured the imagination of fans and players alike. In many ways, their loss in the final enhanced their legacy, elevating them to the status of tragic heroes in football folklore.

Conclusion: The Duality of Greatness

The 1974 World Cup Final remains a defining moment in football history, a clash that transcended the boundaries of sport. It was a battle between artistry and pragmatism, idealism and realism, romance and ruthlessness. In the end, it was not just a victory for West Germany but a testament to the enduring complexity of the beautiful game.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Trent Bridge: A Theatre of Redemption for Australia

Trent Bridge, a venue often synonymous with Australian cricketing calamity, once again set the stage for a dramatic showdown. The ground, steeped in memories of Australian defeats—from the swinging demolition of 2015 to the record-breaking English onslaught of 2018—seemed poised to add another chapter of despair. Against the West Indies, the spectre of history loomed large as Aaron Finch’s men faced a trial by fire. Early wickets tumbled, the ball hissed and darted through the grey Nottingham air, and Australia teetered on the precipice of collapse. Yet, in the crucible of adversity, they forged a victory that spoke not of dominance but of resilience and resolve.

This was not a triumph built on individual brilliance but a mosaic of collective effort, the kind that coach Justin Langer has long championed. At 39 for 4, with the ghosts of past failures swirling, Australia’s character was tested. Steven Smith, the perennial anchor, stood firm amid the chaos, while Nathan Coulter-Nile’s unexpected heroics with the bat turned the tide. With the ball, Mitchell Starc and Pat Cummins delivered spells of unrelenting precision, suffocating the West Indies’ chase and securing a hard-fought win.

The Anatomy of Collapse and Recovery

The day began with Jason Holder’s astute decision to bowl first, a choice that exploited the conditions and Australia’s fraught history at Trent Bridge. The pitch, dry yet tinged with moisture, was a pacer’s dream, and Oshane Thomas wasted no time in baring his teeth. His raw pace and unpredictable swing rattled the Australian top order, beginning with Aaron Finch’s edge to slip in the third over. David Warner, caught in two minds, fell to Sheldon Cottrell’s clever variation, while Usman Khawaja, already battered, succumbed to an ill-judged drive off Thomas.

At 39 for 4, the parallels to Australia’s infamous 60 all out were stark. Yet, unlike that fateful day, there was no surrender. Smith and Marcus Stoinis began the painstaking task of rebuilding. Their initial partnership was not one of flair but of survival, inching Australia past the psychological milestone of 50. When Alex Carey joined Smith, the innings found a rhythm. Carey’s aggression complemented Smith’s calm, and their 68-run stand laid the foundation for a remarkable recovery.

But the day’s revelation was Coulter-Nile. Known more for his bowling than his batting, he unleashed an audacious 92 off 60 balls—a career-best that bristled with intent. His partnership with Smith, worth 102 runs, transformed Australia’s innings from despair to defiance. By the time the dust settled, Australia had clawed their way to 288—a total that seemed improbable just hours earlier.

The West Indies: Promise and Peril

The West Indies, brimming with talent and flair, approached the chase with characteristic bravado. Chris Gayle, the talismanic opener, briefly threatened to rewrite the script. His battle with Starc was a gripping subplot, filled with edges, reviews, and near-misses. But Starc’s searing pace ultimately proved decisive, removing Gayle and setting the tone for the innings.

Shai Hope, the glue of the West Indies’ batting, played a composed hand, forging crucial partnerships with Nicholas Pooran and Shimron Hetmyer. Yet, each alliance was undone by moments of misfortune and misjudgment. Pooran’s dismissal to Adam Zampa, Hetmyer’s run-out, and Hope’s mistimed stroke off Cummins highlighted the fragility beneath the West Indies’ flair.

Andre Russell and Holder offered a glimmer of hope with a late counterattack, but the Australian bowlers were unyielding. Starc’s full-length deliveries and Cummins’ relentless accuracy suffocated the chase, while Finch’s astute field placements ensured there was no escape.

A Triumph of Grit

Australia’s victory was not a tale of dominance but of perseverance. At every juncture, they faced adversity: a hostile pitch, a rampant pace attack, and the weight of their own history. Yet, they refused to falter. Smith’s composure, Coulter-Nile’s audacity, and the bowlers’ discipline combined to script a victory that was as much about character as it was about skill.

For the West Indies, the defeat was a bitter pill. Their moments of brilliance—Thomas’ fiery opening spell, Cottrell’s athletic fielding, and Russell’s late fireworks—were overshadowed by their inability to seize key moments.

As Australia left Trent Bridge, they carried with them not just two points but a renewed belief. This was no ordinary win; it was a statement of intent, a rewriting of their narrative at a ground that had once haunted them. In the words of Justin Langer, “Sometimes, the toughest battles forge the strongest teams.” Australia’s journey is far from over, but at Trent Bridge, they proved that resilience is the bedrock of greatness.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

A Duel Beneath the Blazing Sun: USA vs. Brazil, 1994 World Cup

July 4, 1994. The heart of summer, the cradle of American independence. At Stanford Stadium, beneath a merciless California sun, a new revolution was brewing. The United States Men’s National Team, emerging from decades of obscurity, stood at the threshold of a historic opportunity: their first knockout game of the modern World Cup era.

The air was electric, the stands a sea of red, white, and blue. Patriotic chants reverberated through the stadium, a nation’s hopes pinned on a team still learning to navigate the labyrinth of world football. Their opponent, however, was no ordinary adversary. It was Brazil—giants of the game, four-time finalists, and three-time champions.

But this was not the Brazil of carefree samba, of artistry unbound. No, this was the Brazil of the 1990s—a team forged in pragmatism, tempered by the bitter lessons of failure. Bigger, stronger, faster, and colder, they embodied a new ethos: the triumph of discipline over flamboyance, of structure over chaos. And they had come to claim what they believed was rightfully theirs.

The Clash Begins

From the first whistle, it was clear: this was not going to be a celebration. This was war. The Americans, aware of their limitations, constructed a fortress of flesh and willpower. Bora Milutinovic, the enigmatic tactician, deployed his players like pawns in a desperate gambit to withstand Brazil’s relentless waves.

For 73 minutes, it worked.

Brazil attacked with the precision of a surgeon and the persistence of a storm, yet the Americans held firm. Marcelo Balboa lunged, Alexi Lalas grappled, and Tony Meola, the goalkeeper with the weight of a nation on his shoulders, parried and deflected. The crowd roared with every clearance, every interception, as if sheer belief could hold back the inevitable.

Then, the moment of darkness.

A Blow to the Heart

Late in the first half, a scuffle along the sideline turned violent. Brazilian defender Leonardo, frustrated and fiery, lashed out with an elbow that struck American midfielder Tab Ramos in the temple. Ramos crumpled to the ground, motionless. The stadium fell silent, the gravity of the act sinking in like a stone.

Ramos was stretchered off, his World Cup over, his skull fractured. Leonardo was shown red, sent off in disgrace. Brazil, now reduced to ten men, faced a challenge that could have unraveled lesser teams.

But this was Brazil.

The Moment of Truth

The second half unfolded like a Greek tragedy. The Americans, emboldened by their numerical advantage, pushed forward. Yet, for all their effort, they lacked the tools to break Brazil’s iron resolve. The absence of Ramos and the suspended John Harkes left their midfield rudderless, their attack toothless.

Meanwhile, the Brazilians adapted. Space opened up, and into that space stepped Romário and Bebeto—poets of the pitch, predators in disguise. Their movements were fluid, their intentions lethal.

In the 74th minute, the dam broke. Romário, ever the architect, seized the ball and surged forward, defenders scrambling in his wake. With a flick of his boot, he released Bebeto on the right flank. The forward raced ahead, his every step laden with purpose, and with a calm born of genius, slotted the ball past Meola into the far corner of the net.

The stadium gasped. The dream was over.

A Study in Survival

Brazil’s celebration was subdued, almost businesslike. For them, this was not triumph but survival. The Americans had fought valiantly, but their inexperience showed. Four shots to Brazil’s sixteen. No saves required of Brazilian goalkeeper Taffarel. The numbers told the story of a team outmatched, outclassed, but never out of heart.

“We weren’t great playing out of the back to begin with,” Alexi Lalas would later admit. “But it didn’t matter—even with ten, they were just better than us. Smarter, faster, stronger.”

The Legacy of Defeat

As the final whistle blew, the Americans stood defeated but not diminished. They had stared down one of the greatest teams in history and emerged with their dignity intact. The 1-0 loss was a baptism by fire, a moment of painful growth for a team still finding its identity.

For Brazil, the victory was a reminder of their evolution. This was no longer the Brazil of naïve beauty. This was a team that could win ugly, that could grind out results when the situation demanded.

And for the United States? It was a lesson. A reminder that greatness is not given but earned, forged in the crucible of defeat.

As assistant coach Timo Liekoski put it, “Maybe someone’s telling us, ‘Keep working, and it will come.’”

The Duel Remembered

Years later, Alexi Lalas would reflect on that day. “It wasn’t our greatest moment,” he said, “but it was an important one.”

Indeed, it was. Beneath that blazing sun, on the nation’s birthday, the United States took its first true steps into the world of soccer. And though the journey would be long and arduous, the seeds of belief had been sown.

The revolution had begun.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

The Tragic Tale of Andrés Escobar: Elegance Lost Amid Chaos

In the annals of football history, few stories are as heart-wrenching as that of Andrés Escobar. The Colombian defender, known as "The Gentleman" for his composure both on and off the field, embodied grace under pressure. Yet, his life came to a tragic and violent end, exposing the fragile boundary between the beauty of sport and the darkness of societal chaos.

Escobar’s fatal journey began with an innocent mistake—a momentary miscalculation during Colombia’s 1994 World Cup campaign. On June 22, in a match against the United States, he inadvertently redirected John Harkes' cross into his own net. That fateful own goal contributed to Colombia's group-stage elimination, a bitter blow for a nation that had entered the tournament as dark horses, buoyed by a historic 5-0 demolition of Argentina in the qualifiers.

The aftermath of Colombia’s exit was a cruel descent into tragedy. Returning to his homeland, Escobar was confronted not by the empathy befitting an athlete who had dedicated his life to the sport but by hostility fueled by the toxic intertwining of football, crime, and politics. On July 2, 1994, just days after Colombia’s World Cup elimination, Escobar was gunned down outside a nightclub in Medellín. He was 27 years old.

The Collision of Dreams and Violence

Escobar’s story is inseparable from the volatile landscape of Colombian football in the 1980s and 1990s. Football had become a stage for the nation’s aspirations and, paradoxically, a pawn in the hands of powerful drug cartels. Atlético Nacional, the Medellín-based club where Escobar rose to prominence, was emblematic of this duality. Under the patronage of Pablo Escobar, the infamous drug lord (unrelated to Andrés), the club achieved unprecedented success, including its historic 1989 Copa Libertadores victory.

Amid this turbulent backdrop, Andrés Escobar shone as a beacon of integrity. Born into a middle-class family in Medellín, he chose football over academics, inspired by his brother Santiago’s path. His talent, discipline, and intellect quickly distinguished him. Transitioning from midfield to defence under the guidance of coach Carlos "Piscis" Restrepo, Escobar’s towering presence, aerial ability, and elegant ball control earned him a place in Colombia’s national team by the age of 20.

Escobar’s rise mirrored Colombia’s footballing ascent. In 1989, he played a pivotal role in Atlético Nacional’s Copa Libertadores triumph, a victory that symbolized the nation’s footballing potential. Yet, as Colombian clubs thrived on the global stage, the shadow of narcotrafficking loomed large. The cartels’ grip on football extended beyond financial investments; it corrupted the sport and left a trail of violence, including the murder of referees and officials.

A Gentleman in the Storm

Despite the chaos surrounding Colombian football, Escobar remained a paragon of sportsmanship and humility. His leadership and professionalism earned him admiration from teammates and coaches alike. Nicknamed “The Gentleman,” he approached the game with a sense of honour that transcended the field. His celebrated performances, including a goal against England in 1988, cemented his reputation as one of Colombia’s finest defenders.

The 1994 World Cup was meant to be Escobar’s moment of redemption after a knee injury sidelined him during the qualifiers. Yet, the tournament became a nightmare. Colombia’s opening loss to Romania was followed by the fateful match against the United States. Escobar’s own goal, a mere accident, became a symbol of a nation’s shattered dreams.

The Aftermath of a Mistake

Escobar’s response to the debacle was characteristic of his grace. “Life does not end here,” he wrote in an article for El País, urging Colombians to find solace in resilience and unity. He returned to Medellín, determined to face the public with dignity. “I want to go to Colombia and show my face,” he told his family.

Tragically, his resolve met a fatal end. On that fateful July night, taunts about their own goal escalated into violence. Escobar’s plea for respect fell on deaf ears, and Humberto Castro Muñoz, a bodyguard for local drug traffickers, shot him six times. The alleged motive? A gambling loss suffered by Castro Muñoz’s employers, the Gallón brothers, who faced accusations of orchestrating the murder. Castro Muñoz served just ten years of his 43-year sentence, leaving a bitter legacy of injustice.

A Legacy Unbroken

Andrés Escobar’s death was not just a loss for Colombian football; it was a stark reminder of the human cost of a nation’s struggles. The gentle defender, who had planned to marry his fiancée later that year, left behind a legacy of elegance and integrity. His life remains a poignant symbol of football’s power to inspire and its vulnerability to the darker forces of society.

Colleagues and loved ones remember Escobar as more than an athlete. “He taught me to give from the heart,” his fiancée Pamela Cascardo said. Childhood friend Juan Jairo Galeano recalled Escobar’s quiet acts of charity, while teammates praised his unwavering professionalism and camaraderie.

Almost three decades later, the memory of Andrés Escobar endures his life a testament to the fragile beauty of sport in a world often marred by its imperfections. His story serves as a reminder that, while a single moment can define a match, it should never define a life.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar