Give it to Messi and Pray: Netherlands v Argentina

Give it to Messi and pray. Now. Tomorrow. The day after. Tonight, especially tonight. Give it and pray. As you have for the past 18 years, touching two decades.

Give it to him and pray. When the lights are too bright and dizzying and the pressure is off-putting. The weight of the jersey is too heavy. The swing of the boot faces incalculable resistance.

Give it to him and pray. The clock stops, 90 minutes stretching into infinity. Injury time took on a life of its own. Give it and pray. In the midst of all trials and tribulations. Above the enigma, the clamor, the cacophony. An entire nation with its army of 40 million hopes and believes. Eliminate fears, doubts, and concerns like "is it?"

Rebelling on purpose, both by compulsion and by choice, let the story not end there. A minute of genius is enough to stay alive.

That's why you give the ball to Messi and pray. In your own half of the field, near the center circle, on the flanks, 30 meters from the opposing goal, from a free kick, but at the edge of the box, that's where the magic happens.

An entire career spent threatening defenders between the lines. Hovering between the lines, all the time. Try to find it there. He is a past master in the art of moving without really moving. No one in the world adds more value by standing still and seeming to "disappear" from the game than he does. Pockets of space are slowly starting to open because everyone is in a persistent state of flux.

Give it to him and pray. The faults become incessant and incendiary. Every challenge is explosive. Every 50-50 ball contest has become a paramount battle for survival. Give it to him and pray as the adrenaline takes over.

Opponents aren't child's play, they're there for a reason. Challenge history, usher in a new era of glory, pursue their ambitions and aspirations, make everyone at home proud, give their fans a new voice and reason to sing louder, send shockwaves through the world of football, providing with a story for the ages, to claim to beat the best on the planet.

Give it to him and pray. Spaces have suddenly disappeared, the middle of the park has become a no man's land. Everything is calm on this side.

Why do they insist on pushing midfielders down the wing and into the final third? Why doesn't anyone want to dive deep and take over possession from defenders? How did this team pull off a 36 game unbeaten streak but suddenly can't master the fundamentals of a proper football team? How will they function symmetrically without a right winger in the absence of Angel Di Maria? Is the tactical self-destruct too big to compensate for?

Give it to him and pray. Obviously when nothing around makes sense and suffering is all that's written on the wall. Suffering in possession, not finding partners for a pass. Suffering without it, not keeping pace with opposing wingers on afterburners or clearing dangerous long balls into the box as opponents throw the kitchen sink and much more.

Give the ball to Messi and pray. Even on the verge of tragedy. Staring into the abyss in silence.

Argentina has been here before. Disaster and defeat have gone hand in hand with the latest iteration of its supposed golden generation. Despair, only despair has haunted the Seleccion for the past two decades. A first World Cup final since 1990 ends in a late heartbreak. Two consecutive Copa finals against Chile in those years become Hitchcockian horror.

Wait for it and pray. The pain is too strong and he doesn't want to be there anymore. Four final defeats are enough for a life, he says. There is no joy with Argentina, only resignation and an endless cycle of coming together to find salvation, but drift away, get lost.

Give it to him and pray. Because it inevitably comes back. Love is too strong to get bogged down. Kicking, shouting, harassing, shoving and fighting, he single-handedly books the flight from Argentina to Russia. Without him, there was no national team, they said, crying for him to come back. They were right.

Give it to him and pray. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Rio de Janeiro's glorious Maracana shines and smiles on a summer night as the chants of 'Campeones! Campeones!’ strengthens his hallowed ground. Football's favorite son finally completes his redemption arc and is launched into the air by his teammates. He finds peace.

Argentina dust off the trophy cabinet and add silverware for the first time in 28 years. On the soil of their neighbors and former enemies. Bragging rights and all that.