Lionel Messi-mania descends on Qatar as Argentina’s captain shoots for maiden World Cup win

Thus, in search of meaning and understanding, we headed to the Souq Waqif, the World Cup’s social hub. Messi fans are distinguishable, of course, because they are wearing Messi shirts.

So, here’s a question: how long does it take to find 50 fans in Messi shirts in Doha? My answer: one hour, 36 minutes. And that was Wednesday, a quiet day, a day without any football games when many fans were leaving and the new batch – the knockout stage glory hunters – were beginning to arrive. We started at lunch, which was very quiet, and found 26 Messi fans in 60 minutes. Later, we came back in the evening and found 24 more in just over half an hour.

Meet Ibrahim. He was the first Messi fan in our inquest, having lunch with his father. Ibrahim is 16 and from Iraq. He is quite clear: he supports Messi, not Argentina. “I’ve been watching him since I was a kid.” Oh yeah? I mean, beware any phoneys just following the trend and getting a decent holiday off their rich dad.

So, what’s your favourite Messi goal? Ibrahim pauses momentarily, then gives his answer: the one against Real Madrid in the Champions League. He can’t quite recall the year (2011). But he can describe Messi’s movement, he knows who gave the assist (Sergio Busquets) and that Iker Casillas was left “sliding everywhere”.

A trend starts to appear. The next Messi fans are a Lebanese brother and sister ("I do actually support Argentina; she supports Messi"). Then Subir, a 70-year-old from India who supports Messi but whose team here is Brazil. Our sixth Messi shirt is actually worn by an Argentinian: Lorena, 31, who works in risk management in Canary Wharf.

Of 50 fans wearing Messi shirts, 20 are Argentinian, eight are Indian and the rest are mainly from Middle East and north African nations. There are two teachers from the Philippines, two from Japan, a Chinese IT worker who lives in Bangkok and Hwan, a seven-year-old boy from Seoul who looks like he needs his bed.

Hwan’s father has a South Korea shirt. So I ask: isn’t Hwan a Korea fan too? The father gives the instantly recognisable eye-roll expression, the international language for: my child refused to listen.

Messi, it seems, is an international language too. How do you speak Messi? By declaring an immeasurable devotion. As one Jordanian proclaimed adoringly: “I don’t like Messi. I love Messi. I die for Messi.”

This is in part a reflection of a modern global celebrity culture. You suspect that this is particularly so in countries where their own national team doesn’t feature on the big stage. I didn’t find a single European here declaring themselves a Messi fan.

There was one Mexican man who admitted he was completely conflicted: he supports Messi and Mexico and was in the Lusail Stadium when the two met a fortnight ago, the scene of another beautiful Messi masterclass. Two Jordanian brothers were hilarious: one a Messi fan, laughing at the other, a Cristiano Ronaldo fan: “So he is finished now!”

So, how many Ronaldo shirts were in the Souq over that hour and a half? Not a single one. There were a couple of Neymars, lots of the generic yellow Brazil shirts, loads of Morocco jerseys. There were actually more Maradonas (three) than Ronaldo. And there was one Argentinian wearing the No 10 but with no name, who explained that he preferred to identify with the spirit of the Argentinian 10 and the whole bloodline running from Maradona to Messi.

Yet it is clear that there is one player, above all, who straddles international borders. You can be almost anywhere in the world and appreciate The Beatles or Mozart or a Matisse, and in that same vein we can all dig the artistry of Messi.

Yes, maybe his name has become a bit of an accessory, like a Gucci belt or a Prada bag. Yet pretty much every one of the 50 wearing Messi shirts here seemed to be Messi to the core. The non-Argentinians were especially keen to explain where they first saw him, how the love affair started and which is their favourite Messi goal. That one against Real Madrid? Or the Maradona-esque dribble against Getafe in 2007?

Bautista, a 12-year-old boy from Argentina, describes in detail the mazy dribble against Athletic Bilbao in the Copa del Rey 2015. His father looks on admiringly, maybe at his son’s very capable English, or more likely at the fact that he knows this goal so intricately and yet was only five at the time.

This is the language of Messi – and they speak it around the world.

– The Times

Originally published as Lionel Messi-mania descends on Qatar as Argentina’s captain shoots for maiden World Cup win