When Black America Rooted Against Messi

When Black America Rooted Against Messi

The 2024 World Cup final between Spain and Argentina was billed as a clash of football titans. But for many Black Americans, the match represented something far more complex than sport: a referendum on values, accountability, and who was willing to speak up when it mattered most.

Argentina's fanbase had become synonymous with racist incidents in the months leading up to the tournament. Videos circulated showing fans in Argentina team gear hurling racial slurs at Black people. Members of Argentina's national team were filmed singing a racist chant directed at France's Black players after winning Copa América. American content creator IShowSpeed faced verbal assault from Argentina supporters. Even a hamburger restaurant in Argentina had taken a name incorporating a racial slur as its branding.

Beyond the stadium and social media, Argentina's president Javier Milei had aligned himself with positions associated with Donald Trump and expressed support for Israel amid the war in Gaza. When Benjamin Netanyahu was asked on a podcast whether he was rooting for Messi, he replied, "No, before Messi, Milei. He's a superstar."

The pattern was unmistakable. What had started as isolated incidents accumulated into a comprehensive statement about who Argentina's leadership and fanbase chose to be on the global stage.

Yet the focal point of the conversation inevitably became Lionel Messi. His dominance on the field was undeniable, his brilliance requiring no embellishment. But the calculus for many Black viewers shifted when they considered what Messi chose not to do.

Throughout the tournament and in the months prior, Messi made no public statement condemning the racist behavior of Argentina's supporters. He did not address the Copa América chant. He offered no rebuke when videos of Argentina fans racially abusing Black people spread across social media. Even a broad, indirect condemnation never materialized.

The silence was deliberate in its totality. Martin Luther King Jr. articulated the stakes plainly in his Beyond Vietnam speech: "A time comes when silence is betrayal." When the most visible figure in a movement or organization chooses not to use their platform against injustice, that silence speaks as loudly as any statement could.

History provides a clear contrast. Muhammad Ali, Bill Russell, Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf, Craig Hodges, Tommie Smith and John Carlos all demonstrated that extraordinary athletic talent carries with it an opportunity to effect change beyond the field. Being exceptional at sport has never automatically meant being courageous off it, but the greatest athletes often recognize the difference.

Spain's victory was narrated through a different lens entirely. Lamine Yamal and Nico Williams represented something that extended beyond tactical superiority. Yamal spoke openly about his father searching through discarded materials to find money for food, about growing up in an apartment where kitchen and bedroom were one room. Williams carried the story of his mother, María, who walked nearly 2,000 miles while pregnant from Ghana toward Spain in search of a better life.

When Williams scored the goal that won Spain the World Cup, he placed his medal around his mother's neck. Spain's triumph reflected modern European diversity, shaped by families who crossed borders in pursuit of something better. The victory was about possibility as much as it was about possession percentages and technical excellence.

Notably, Williams had also been willing to take public stances beyond football, including expressing solidarity with Palestine. He recognized that his platform extended beyond 90 minutes on a pitch.

The question of why many Black Americans seemed invested in Argentina's loss is not complicated once you understand the pattern. Athletes are routinely told to "stay in their lane" only when that lane leads toward speaking out against racism or injustice. Ali was told to "just box." Colin Kaepernick was told to "just play football." LeBron James was told to "shut up and dribble." When athletes use their platforms for something that creates discomfort, suddenly the rules change.

For many viewers, supporting Spain was not an endorsement of Spain's unfinished history with colonialism and oppression. It was a rejection of what Argentina had become in this particular moment. Sometimes choosing one team over another is not about picking perfection but about selecting the option that feels less harmful.

The young generation represented by Spain's squad suggested that excellence and conviction do not have to operate on separate fields. That greatness on the pitch and greatness of character can exist in the same athlete. That a willingness to speak when speaking costs something matters as much as what someone does when the world is watching.

Author James Rodriguez: "This World Cup reminded us that silence from the biggest platform is a choice, and choices define legacies far more than trophies ever will."

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