Messi’s visit to India: a genuine love lost in dystopian opportunism

The last time Lionel Messi came to India, I was a rookie reporter Sports stars And The Hindu. I remember the negotiations as well as the assignment. After days of bullying, Nirmal Shekar – the legendary tennis writer and then sports editor of The Hindu – finally allowed me to travel to Calcutta, even though two senior correspondents were already stationed there. It felt like a gift and a treat.

Eternally in love with football, Kolkata had entered carnival mode. The city had just emerged from elections, a new government had replaced 34 years of left-wing rule, and optimism – political and sporting – was in the air.

Argentina were staying next door to the Yuva Bharati Krirangan, and there was as much talk about Sergio Aguero and Gonzalo Higuaín as there was about the then two-time Ballon d’Or winner. It was Messi’s first match as captain of Argentina.

On match day, the Salt Lake Stadium – ravaged by decades of animosity between Mohun Bagan and East Bengal – had already grown to its full capacity long before kick-off. Even journalists walked nearly a mile before climbing five flights of stairs to the outdated press box. The two rickety elevators had surrendered long ago. Argentina won 1-0 in a match that never really caught fire, but that hardly mattered. We had seen Messi. Personal. In India.

Then came the press conference. Messi. Alejandro Sabella. And darkness. Yuva Bharati’s power supply went out at exactly the wrong time. Minutes of awkward silence followed – embarrassed journalists and helpless organizers. When the electricity returned, Messi was faced with a series of pointless questions about the city and its fans. It soon became clear that many in the room were not journalists at all, but «well-connected fans» who had elbowed their way in.

I wrote in Sportstar that the “Messi match” should be a start. That the AIFF, which is then full of proposals for more friendlies, “must build on its success, capitalize on the renewed public interest and give the right impetus to the game.” But even then I had warned: “Given the AIFF’s track record, we should not get our hopes up too high.”

Fourteen years later, Indian football is staring at a year without a national senior football competition.

READ ALSO | Having Messi is a golden moment for Mumbai and India: Tendulkar

A lot has changed in Bengal since 2011, and some of it has actually changed for the better. However, the sport remains stubbornly stagnant. Three terms of the current government have yielded little results. Only two Bangladeshi athletes have qualified for the last two Olympics. The state finished 18th and then eighth in the last two National Games.

So when Messi’s return was announced – this time through a private organizer with a well-documented history of chaotic events – the discomfort was immediate.

Credit should be given where it is due. Believing in the unimaginable and making it happen takes courage. But memory is important. A 2012 exhibition featuring Brazilian and Colombian legends nearly collapsed due to unpaid fees. Diego Maradona’s 2017 visit descended into a farce and Emiliano Martínez, fresh from Argentina’s 2022 World Cup triumph, had to escape from the Milan Mela convention center in a police van after one of his car’s windows broke as fans mobbed him.

But this catalog of shame didn’t prepare us for Saturday.

Thousands of fans, who pay more than Rs. 4,500, waited patiently for a glimpse of Messi. What they got instead was a law masterclass. As Messi tried to take a lap of honour, he was swamped by a suffocating circle of political aides, relatives of ministers and all manner of gate crashers, just like the press conference fourteen years ago.

Inside the stadium, the Minister of State for Sports threw his arms around Messi like a defender illegally marking inside the penalty area, busily collecting frames for his Facebook page, even as the crowd became restless and unable to see due to the melee.

Yet they waited. Hoping that their elected representatives, against their instincts, would step aside and grant them their moment with La Pulga.

But the so-called VIPs tightened their grip and even pushed aside World Cup players Luis Suarez and Rodrigo De Paul to get closer. Messi’s irritation was visible. Twenty minutes into a scheduled 45-minute performance, he walked out.

It was then that the stadium erupted. Not out of joy, but out of anger.

This was not just an organizational failure. It was a well-known moral collapse.

India didn’t just lose face for Lionel Messi. It once again revealed how we deal with sporting greatness. We see them as a pillar of proximity, a backdrop for selfies, a means of creating relevance.

Organizers must be held accountable. But so do the ministers who rush to the front when a World Cup winner arrives, a franchise ends a title drought or a medal is won.

Fourteen years ago, I argued that these matches or occasions «should not be merely a profitable exercise for the visiting sides and promoters, but a springboard for the growth of the game in India.»

On Saturday they served the ruthless hunger for reflected glory at the expense of the people who came, tickets paid, simply to see the best players ever come their way.

Published on December 14, 2025