Messi, who was carrying an injury, hadn't traveled with the team to Valencia. Instead, he was at home with his wife and three sons, sitting in front of the television and watching the players from both teams enter the field.
The live camera lingered on Li Mingyu's face for a long time.
His handsome, boyish face held a hint of determination beyond his years.
Antonela Roccuzzo, Messi's wife, held their youngest son, Siro.
The little guy had just turned three, and his name had drawn endless teasing from football fans around the world.
That was because the Chinese pronunciation of "Siro" sounded a lot like "Ciro."
Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo were regarded as football's two greatest rivals.
Was the name Siro meant to combine these two extraordinary players into one?
As Antonela rocked little Ciro, she asked, "Leo, is that Li from your team? He looks so young!"
Messi speared a piece of apple and held it to Antonela's lips. "That's right. He just turned nineteen. He's an incredibly talented young man!"
As Messi watched the game about to begin on TV, he silently offered a prayer.
In the previous match, FC Barcelona had nearly fallen apart. Fortunately, Li Mingyu had stepped up at a crucial moment, lifting the team's spirits and helping them win. The victory had kept Barcelona's hopes of claiming the title alive.
Messi gave his right leg a despondent pat and shook his head with a bitter smile.
At such a crucial moment, was there anything more cruel than being unable to help his team?
Antonela rested her head on Messi's shoulder and said softly, "Don't be sad. You have to believe in your teammates. They're Barca, after all!"
A whistle sounded from the television, and the match officially began.
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