This. Is time for the podcast?
Yeah, the podcast is started. What's the?
Podcast. It's all gonna be all right in
the end. You've got some worries, my
dearly. Rest your busy minds, because
it's finally time The Stories from Now and Then.
Welcome back to Stories from Now and Then.
It's your very own Captain Blunderface here in the old
library and Deprecatus. Guess what?
I got an e-mail from the Humane Society and we are about to read
it. So to explain, we wanted to know
what day of the year Deprecatus's birthday is and we
just heard back. Let's pull it up.
Dear Captain, Blenderface and Deprecatus, We have checked our
records and have seen that Deprecatus birthday is February
29th. Depprogatis, do you know what
that means? You're a leap of your baby.
How cool is that? That means your birthday is a
quadrennial event. Can you think of any other
events that happen every four years?
That's right, Summer Olympics and Winter Olympics.
What else? World Cup.
That's exactly right. Well, that might have a little
bit to do with today's story. And before we get into it, we
have a shout out for Morgan from Wyoming, USA.
Morgan loves to sing and to ride her or spoon.
And sometimes on the short little drive to school, she asks
to listen to stories. So Morgan, thanks so much for
listening. Today's episode is for you.
And with that, rest your busy minds.
It is finally time and Nicola will bring us today's story.
Nicola, it's all you. Today's story is a true story
about a very special football player.
Now, depending on where you live, you might call it soccer.
But for this story, let's just call it football together.
This story is about a boy who was told he was too small to
play football, but who grew up to become the greatest player
the world has ever seen. This is a story about believing
in yourself when others don't, about practising until your
feet. No magic about showing the world
that size doesn't measure heart. This is a story about Lionel
Messi. Are you ready?
Let's begin. Once Upon a time, in a city
called Rosario in the country of Argentina, there lived a little
boy named Leo. Lionel, or Lionel was his full
name, but everyone called him Leo for short.
Leo was born on June 24th, 1987 into a family that loved
football more than almost anything in Argentina.
You see, football isn't just a game, it's a passion, a dream, a
language. Everyone speaks with their feet
instead of their mouths. Leo's grandmother, Celia, loved
him with all her heart. She would take him to practice,
watch him play, cheer louder than anyone else.
You're going to be a star, Leo, she would say, her eyes shining
with belief. You really think so, Abuela?
Leo would ask. I know.
So, she would reply, hugging him tight.
Leo started playing football when he was so small he could
barely reach the doorknob. He played with his older
brothers in the street, chasing the ball on dusty roads, dodging
puddles and potholes. His brothers were bigger and
stronger, but Leo was quicker and cleverer, weaving between
them like a fish through water. By the time Leo was five years
old, he was playing for a local team called Grandoli.
The coach was his father, Jorge, who saw something special in his
youngest son, a way of moving with the ball that seemed almost
magical, as if the ball was attached to his feet by
invisible string. But there was something that
worried Leo's family. Leo wasn't growing the way other
boys were growing. Year after year passed, and
while his friends got taller and stronger, Leo stayed small and
thin as a twig. When Leo was 10 years old, his
family took him to see some doctors.
The doctors did tests and examinations, and then they
delivered news that made everyone's hearts feel heavy.
Leo has a growth hormone deficiency, the doctors said,
using big words that basically meant Leo's body wasn't making
the special chemicals that help children grow tall.
Can it be fixed? Leo's parents asked, worried and
scared. Yes, said the doctors, But the
treatment is expensive. Leo will need special medicine
injected every single day. The medicine cost a lot of
money, more money than Leo's family had.
His father worked in a factory, his mother cleaned houses.
They tried their best, but the medicine was so expensive they
could barely afford it. Leo had to inject the medicine
into his legs every night before bed.
It hurt. It was scary for a young boy,
but Leo was brave. Does it hurt?
His mother would ask, gently, a little, Leo would admit.
But I want to grow. I want to play football every
night, Stick, pinch, inject. Every morning, wake up and play
football. Anyway, Leo kept playing, kept
practising, kept getting better and better, even though he was
still the smallest player on every team.
By the time Leo was 13, he was playing for a youth team called
Newell's Old Boys in Rosario. He was so good, so incredibly
skilful, that people would come just to watch this tiny boy make
the defenders look silly, dribbling past players twice his
size like they were standing still.
But here's where the story gets difficult.
Here's where Leo faced his biggest challenge yet.
Leo's family couldn't afford the medicine anymore.
The factory where his father worked was struggling.
Money was tight, and without the medicine, Leo couldn't keep
growing. Without growing, how could he
compete with bigger, stronger players?
Leo's family didn't know what to do.
Then something wonderful happened, something that would
change Leo's life forever. A scout from a famous football
club in Spain had heard about the magical small boy in
Argentina. The club was called FC
Barcelona, one of the most famous teams in the whole world,
and they were always looking for talented young players.
Come to Barcelona, the scout said to Leo's family.
Come for a trial. Let us see if this boy is as
good as people say. So Leo and his father flew
across the ocean to Spain, to the beautiful city of Barcelona
with its beaches and buildings and the famous football stadium
where 100,000 people could watch football together.
Leo was 13 years old, small and shy and far from home.
Everything felt strange and new and a little bit scary.
The coaches at Barcelona watched Leo play.
They watched him dribble, tap, tap, tap around cones and
defenders. They watched him shoot, pass,
control the ball like it was a pet that obeyed his every
command. Sign him, they said,
immediately. Sign him now, before another
club takes him. But there was still the problem
of the medicine. Leo's family couldn't afford to
move to Spain and pay for the expensive treatment.
The Barcelona coaches looked at each other.
They looked at this small boy with the magical feet, and they
made a decision that almost never happens in football.
We'll pay for everything, they said.
We'll pay for the medicine. We'll pay for Leo's family to
move here. We believe in him that much.
So Leo and his family moved to Barcelona.
Leo joined Barcelona's famous youth Academy called La Masia.
Every day he got his medicine, every day he practised.
Every day he got a little better, a little taller, a
little stronger. But it was hard for him, so
hard. Leo was far from home, from his
grandmother who believed in him, from his friends, from the dusty
streets of Rosario where he learned to play.
He was lonely. He missed Argentina, he missed
his old life. The other boys at La Marcia were
talented too, and some of them weren't very nice to the quiet
boy from Argentina who barely talked.
But Leo had his football. When he felt sad, he would go to
the practice field and play the ball, understood him even when
people didn't. His feet knew what to do, even
when his heart felt heavy. And Leo kept growing.
Not just taller, though the medicine was helping with that,
but better. Better at football, better at
reading the game, understanding where to run, when to pass, how
to score goals that made the coaches gasp and clap.
When Leo was 16, something extraordinary happened.
The coach of Barcelona's main team, the real team, the famous
team, the team that played in front of 100,000 people, needed
a player for an important match. Bring up that small Argentine
boy, he said. Bring up Messi.
On October 16th, 2004, Leo walked onto the pitch wearing
Barcelona's famous blue and red stripes.
He was 16 years old, the youngest player ever to play for
Barcelona, and though he only played for a few minutes,
everyone who watched could see something special was happening.
Over the next few years, Leo went from being a substitute
player who came on at the end of games to being the most
important player on the entire team.
He scored goals. So many goals.
Beautiful goals, impossible goals.
Goals where he would dribble past five or six defenders like
they were traffic cones, goals from far away that would curve
and bend through the air like magic.
Leo won trophies, So many trophies.
Championships with Barcelona. Year after year after year, he
won awards for being the best player in the world.
Not once, not twice, but eight times.
That's more than any other player in history.
He scored more goals for Barcelona than any player ever
had. 672 goals. Imagine scoring 672 goals.
That's like scoring two goals every single week for six years
straight. But there was one thing missing.
1 dream Leo hadn't achieved yet. You see, in football, there's a
special competition called the World Cup.
It happens every four years and every country in the world
competes to win it. It's the biggest, most important
trophy in all of football. Leo had won everything with
Barcelona, but he'd never won the World Cup with Argentina.
He'd tried in 2006, in 2010, in 2014 and in 2018.
People started to say Messi is great, but he'll never be the
greatest until he wins the World Cup.
This hurt Leo's heart. He'd given everything to
Argentina, played through injuries, tried so hard.
But football is a team game, and sometimes even the best player
can't win alone. Then came 2022, the World Cup in
Qatar. Leo was 35 years old now, old
for a footballer with grey streaks in his beard.
Everyone knew this would be his last chance, his final
opportunity to win the one trophy that had escaped him.
Argentina started well, then stumbled, then found their
rhythm. Match after match, Leo led his
team forward. He scored goals, made passes,
inspired his teammates to play better than they'd ever played
before. They reached the final Argentina
versus France, the two best teams in the world.
The match was incredible, wonderful, the most exciting
final anyone could remember. Argentina LED, then France
caught up. Argentina LED again, then France
caught up again. It went to extra time, then to
penalty kicks where players take turns shooting at the goal with
just the goalkeeper to beat. Leo scored his penalty.
Cool as ice, calm as a summer morning, he placed the ball
exactly where he wanted it when the final French penalty was
saved. Argentina had won, won the World
Cup. And Leo, Small Leo from Rosario,
Leo, who needed medicine to grow, Leo, who'd been told he
was too small, had finally achieved his greatest dream.
Leo fell to his knees on the grass and cried.
His teammates piled on top of him, celebrating, laughing,
crying together. Back in Argentina, millions of
people danced in the streets, hugging strangers, honking
horns, singing songs. The small boy had become the
greatest. The journey was complete.
Today, Leo plays in the USA for a team called Inter Miami.
He's older now, but still magical, still able to do things
with a football that make people gasp and cheer and remember why
they love this beautiful game. So what do we learn from this
tale of the small boy who became the greatest?
We learn that being small doesn't mean being weak.
Leo turned his thighs into an advantage.
He was quicker, more agile, harder to knock off the ball.
And we also learn that help from others makes a big difference.
Barcelona paid for Leo's medicine when his family
couldn't afford it. His grandmother believed in him.
His teammates supported him. Nobody achieves greatness
completely alone. And today, children all over the
world wear jerseys with messy on the back.
They practice his moves, try to dribble like him, dream of being
like him. And somewhere in Argentina, in
the dusty streets of Rosario, small children are playing
football, chasing their own dreams.
Maybe one of them will be the next Messi.
Or maybe there'll be something else entirely, something
uniquely wonderful. Deprecatus, we have to get up
and run around outside and kick a ball.
That's all I'm inspired to do right now.
Well, if you're enjoying the show and you'd like to keep in
touch, just reach out to us on Instagram, send us Adm at
Stories from Now and Then and you can get a future episode
dedicated to you. Also, visit our website,
storiesfromnowandthen.com to get a free downloadable coloring
page that you can print off. Our show is narrated by Nicola
Ward, music by Captain Blunderface and we will see you
all next time on the next episode of Stories from Now and
Then.