First, I wanna send love to the French....

I love French people. I really do. Some of the kindest people I've met have been French. But every time the French national team plays, I just can't bring myself to cheer for them. And it all goes back to one night. The 2018 World Cup. Argentina against France. I still remember where I was watching that game. Messi carried the hopes of an entire country on his shoulders, and somehow it felt like we were carrying them with him. Every touch, every pass, every attack made me believe we were going to find a way through. Then we didn't. When the final whistle blew, it felt strangely personal. Not because France had done anything wrong. They were brilliant. They deserved to win. But as a Messi fan, watching him walk off that pitch after giving everything he had... it hurt in a way that was hard to explain. Most disappointments fade with time. You lose a job, you move on. People leave your life, and eventually the ache softens. Even old versions of yourself become distant memories. That match never really did. I don't think about it every day. It's just tucked away somewhere in the back of my mind, quiet enough to forget it's there. Then France walks onto a football pitch, and suddenly I'm right back in 2018 again. It's funny, because it has nothing to do with the French people. I genuinely like them. I've had wonderful conversations with French friends, and I've never wished them anything but the best. It's only those blue shirts. The moment I see them, a part of me is standing in front of that television again, watching Argentina's dream disappear, watching Messi leave the field with his head down, wondering if that was the closest he'd ever come. Of course, life gave us a beautiful ending four years later. Messi finally lifted the World Cup, and I'll always be grateful that football gave him that moment. But emotions don't always follow logic. Some losses leave fingerprints on your heart. Even after they're healed, you can still trace where they used to hurt. Maybe that's what being a football fan really is. Or maybe that's what loyalty looks like.