He cut a forlorn figure in a sea of humanity. It has been a week since Lionel Messi stood by himself as red shirts around him exulted in celebration. At 39, Messi knew his quest to re-feel the feeling he had felt four years ago lay shattered. He had been divine all tournament – with left foot and right, servicing his grateful team, and finding the back of the net in the most critical moments. Yet, there he was, standing alone, crestfallen and broken – the most human of gods.
Sport places a unique burden on its most elite practitioners, one that everyday mortals can never quite fathom. As their stellar careers progress, and the accomplishments stack up, the inevitable questions start creeping into the discourse: What more is left to achieve? Why continue punishing the body and mind? How will another title embellish this already glorious career?
