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It was an exhilarating introduction to the biggest pleasure of covering South American football—the joy of discovery, of being in there at the start, of having a privileged sneak preview of names that are going to be known all over the world.
As I branched out to cover the rest of the continent, there were plenty more. Not all of them come good. In the 1999 Copa America, a 16-year-old Colombian called Jhonnier Montaño scored a wonderful goal against Argentina, and the self-confident youth in the press conference appeared to have greatness in his grasp. It didn’t happen. But it did for the likes of Ronaldinho, Neymar and Vinicius Junior, Riquelme, Agüero and Di María, Roque Santa Cruz, Falcao Garcia and James Rodríguez, Vidal and Alexis Sanchez, Forlán, Suárez and Cavani, Juan Arango, Moisés Caicedo. I have vivid early memories of them all. But there is one that eclipses everything and everyone.
There might be a subjective factor here. I had put the hours in, making my way—at my own expense—up to the other end of the continent for the 2005 version of the South American Under-20 Championships. It was being held in Colombia’s coffee growing region, and what I saw gave me a bigger buzz than any of the local produce, legal or otherwise. It was this unassuming little kid, two years younger and half as high as everyone else. To look at him, you would think he was nothing—unassuming, unimposing; if you gave him a first glance, you would not give him a second. He came across as the pigeon-toed runt of the litter. And then he got on the ball, and all of us present were aware that we were in the presence of genius.
His name, of course, was Lionel Messi.
