I don't really know where to put this, but it seems most appropriate here.
About nine years ago, from my freshman dorm room in Athens, I ordered my first Lionel Messi jersey. I wore it for the next five years almost religiously.
Match day? Messi jersey.
Exam day? Messi jersey.
Going out? Messi jersey.
That shirt came to be a source of strength for me, something like an article of identification. I felt proud to be a Culé, to both represent and be represented by an idea bigger and more important than myself.
As time has passed, through the years of wearing it multiple times per week and the subsequent washing that has come with it's usage, the lettering and number on the back began to fade and peel. Adding the eventual weight gain that has come with aging, the shirt has been retired to a box for the past few years. I planned on eventually framing it, a monument to the man I admire, the team I support, and the club I love.
Today, as I sat on my front porch to unwind from my work night, a neighborhood boy passed me on the way to his bus stop. He wore a t-shirt with a large F.C. Barcelona crest on the front. I called him over and asked him if he was a fan of the club or just wearing a cool shirt. He told me that he loved Barca, and that Lionel Messi was his favorite player. He plays soccer and has his Dad stream la Liga games on the family computer.
About nine years ago, the strongest passion I have ever felt began to take hold. Today, the first Barca shirt I ever owned belongs to a new young man as his journey as a Culé begins. I can't accurately describe the way this all feels.
Mes Que un Club.