I grew up wishing he’d lose every match, every final. Now, I’m tearing up watching him walk away. Throughout my childhood, Leo Messi was my ultimate nightmare. Every time he stepped into the Bernabéu, he left with a smile—and as a little girl, that was the last thing I wanted to see. Sitting glued to the TV, my sole mission became watching him fall, match after match, final after final. Hundreds of games went by, and hundreds of goals with them. Then, as the years passed, something shifted: I fell in love with his football. That’s what growing up is, isn't it? Realizing that what Messi does isn't normal, that it's beyond human, that it’s pure, untouched football. It hits so hard watching the greatest player in history—the icon of the generation we grew up with—say goodbye to his national team. I can’t even fathom what an Argentine must be feeling right now, or the deep dread a Barcelona fan feels knowing the curtain is coming down. That 2019 run, those two assists against England, and that magical moment he lifted the World Cup in 2022—that’s the true measure of who he is. All that's left is to savor whatever time he has left in Miami, because there will simply never be another like him. You were truly one of a kind, Leo.