Until Argentina intersected with England in the World Cup semi‑final on Wednesday, their good fortune at this summer’s tournament had been preserved by a very particular, chaotic cocktail, one that sometimes felt more mythical than real. And for just a moment, it seemed like that mysticism was about to run out.
And then Argentina did what they’ve done all summer. They sent the bulk of a stadium – and an entire country – into hysterics. La Albiceleste scored twice in the dying moments of the match, erased the English lead and advanced to the final. After the second of those two goals – a Lautaro Martínez strike in second‑half stoppage time – supporters from both sides were openly weeping, for wildly different reasons.
It must be said Argentina did not arrive at the semi-final on chaos alone, despite nearly getting bounced out of the tournament twice by lesser opposition. They also were not entirely carried by their legendary talisman, Lionel Messi, nor had any matches been handed to them or engineered in their favor, as some conspiracy theorists have suggested. Yet it would be impossible to say that all of Argentina’s varied deficiencies – the age of their core, their lack of width and their tendency to shut off in critical moments – haven’t sometimes seemed to be overcome by their magic, or any other number of metrics that feel impossible to measure.
That type of dynamic makes for memorable storytelling, but it is not sustainable by any measure. As the final whistle approached, it seemed their luck may have been about to run out. A persistent, well-organized England side had matched them stride for stride and Anthony Gordon’s second‑half strike looked like it would be enough to eliminate Argentina.
And what an elimination it would have been: there are other rivalries in global football that have more history, and maybe even more vitriol. But given the entire tapestry – the political ramifications, the sporting implications and the sheer madness of it all – it would be very hard to find a more eagerly anticipated match in the history of the World Cup than this semi‑final. It is the type of match-up schedule‑makers dream of, the type that so rarely lives up to the hype.
On Wednesday, Argentina’s approach relied less on chaos and more on La Nuestra, the name given to the early iterations of their current style of play: one focused on collectivism, flair and more than a little bit of shithousery. That last element was present, truthfully, in the play of both sides and was largely tolerated by the referee, Ismael Elfath, who kept things loose. It led to a dynamic that felt very much like a high-stakes title fight, one where the early phases so frequently end up being about opponents feeling each other out instead of knocking each other out.
As for Messi, who has indeed put this Argentina squad on his back on several occasions this tournament, there was a moment just three minutes into the match that seemed to guarantee his eventual involvement. A coming together of bodies sent him flying, and no foul was called. He stared at the ref, then a pair of English players, and nodded, very much suggesting that he would remember this slight. Historically, that has been all he’s ever needed. That proved to once again be true, with Messi setting up both of Argentina’s last-gasp goals.
Truthfully, one didn’t need to wait for the match to start to understand the bitterness between these two sides. Inside the stadium, the pre-game anthems were inaudible, completely and entirely drowned out by the chorus of boos and whistles aimed at each anthem by fans of the opposing side. Argentina’s anthem became less of a singalong and more of a screaming match, with both sets of fans simply losing their minds in an attempt to drown out the other.
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Slowly, though, Argentina’s support dimmed as they were pushed back, and the voice of the English support swelled. The Argentina head coach, Lionel Scaloni, intervened at the second hydration break, bringing in a trio of his most experienced players, and the tide began to turn. Chance after chance, though, was squandered, none bigger than Alexis Mac Allister’s 77th-minute, point-blank miss. In that moment, it very much felt like the same magic that had sustained Argentina in other matches was finally doing them in.
And then came the pair of goals, the equalizer from Enzo Fernández and the match-winner from Martínez, both well-taken, both turned goalward after a pass by Messi.
And then, of course, the tears. It felt shocking and deeply unsurprising all at once. And now, Argentina need only another 90, or possibly 120, minutes of their magic to repeat as World Cup winners.
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