The Strange Experience of Watching Messi in the USA

Being in the stadium was unlike anything I expected.

Apologies for the non-Spurs content this time, but I just had to write something brief about what it was like to see Messi live in a Club World Cup match in Atlanta, GA, USA this past weekend. It was truly one of my oddest experiences in football.

For context, it’s worth noting that although I’m from the US, the vast majority of professional football matches I’ve attended have been in England, because I support Spurs and live part-time in England. This means I’m accustomed to a certain matchgoing etiquette.

For example, it would be odd—and a little bit mad—to show up at a football match between e.g. Spurs and Bournemouth wearing a Manchester United shirt, but the norm in the US is to wear any soccer kit to any soccer match. Brits often mock this norm—and I agree, having been socialized into British football norms—that there’s a certain mad illogic to this practice. In the US context, however, it makes some sense, as football fan communities are relatively smaller and more dissipated than in the UK, so in effect what you’re signaling by wearing a Juventus shirt to match between PSG and Inter Miami is ‘I’m a fan of the game, just like you.’

I was also struck by the standing etiquette—or lack thereof—in ordinary sections of the stadium (not designated as standing sections). At one point a few of us even got into a verbal conflict with a fan in front of us who insisted on standing the entire time (the situation was resolved when a large group of fans got security involved and made the guy sit down).

But more curiously—and more to the point of this post—it was Messi’s aura that stood in the way of what I consider good standing etiquette, i.e. anticipating a chance on goal will bring the crowd to our feet, but then we sit down for ordinary possession.

With Messi on the pitch, however, virtually every moment became an occasion for the fan majority to stand and crane their necks on the off-chance that Messi would touch the ball.

That’s because, for one, at least a plurality of the crowd were not there as PSG fans or even necessarily Inter Miami fans; they were there as Messi fans.

The crowd would slowly chant ‘Messssi Messssi Messssi’ regardless of which side had possession and regardless of whether Messi was anywhere near the ball, willing the ball to Messi’s feet.

PSG—without question the best team in the world right now—played their best 11 in this match, were running hard, and snapping into tackles. This was, in other words, PSG at their best, going up 4-0 in the first half while limiting Miami to just 27% possession before taking their foot off the gas in the second half (but still dominating possession), winning 4-0 in the end. So there wasn’t even much opportunity for Messi to get on the ball.

Nevertheless, every time Miami took possession, the crowd would rise to their feet and aim their phones at Messi, who was customarily walking around the pitch, picking his moments to get involved. He had just 48 touches (about half of Désiré Doué’s number of touches) and completed both of his dribbles.

Going into the match, I understood that the stadium would be full of Messi fans—indeed I booked the last-minute flight from New England—about as far north as you can get in the US—to Atlanta—about as far south as you can get—in part because it occurred to me that this might be my last chance to see the legend play live before he retires; I’d never seen him in the flesh.

But nothing could really prepare me for—to be frank—how odd and unsettling it was to witness the matchgoing experience become consumed by fans’ attempts to capture a little bit of Messi on the ball in a TikTok-sized video. I left feeling like I was well entertained—Messi did have a couple of dazzling moments; PSG, the real draw for me, were impeccable; and I saw all 4 PSG goals, including attacks engineered by my favorite non-Spurs player, Kvaratskhelia, right in front of my lower section—but also kind of miffed that I had to watch the game through a sea of floating arms and phones and pink Messi shirts.

I’ve always loved Messi, because I’ve always loved watching excellence in action, so this is not to disparage him or even his fan following. This isn’t meant to be a ‘game’s gone!’ post. I only wish to point out how jarring it was to move from a fan atmosphere that’s so focused on the club and the badge and the circus around the collective to one that’s so focused on the cult of the player. I guess I hadn’t realized just how socialized into the English fan experience I’ve become.