The distorted image that Argentina has tried to project of itself

Now that the dust has settled and the World Cup has been decided, there is one nation that will inevitably have to take a long, hard look at itself. And it is not just Italy, caught between almost impossible aspirations, risky gambles and rehashed ideas; but Argentina, runners-up four years after being the defending champions, who are knowingly indulging – if not directly creating – an image of themselves that does little justice to the immense quality at their disposal, nor to the very purpose of the game.

The images of the brawl that broke out after the final whistle against Spain – showing Nahuel Molina’s punch and the usual Leandro Paredes’s charge – have, of course, been seen around the world, along with Enzo Fernández’s sending-off offence. And these were certainly not the first such incidents throughout the tournament: it is well known that the first half of the semi-final against England, though burdened by historical precedents and territorial claims, was not a model of flawless organisation, let alone fair play.

In addition to the minor missteps mentioned earlier – which were certainly not impossible to avoid with the right technique – such as Cape Verde, Egypt and Switzerland – and the passive-aggressive whingeing, the pre-emptive cover-ups, and the lingering vulgarity on display in Qatar (you’ve got to know how to win). In the space of a few weeks, thanks to those who favour a division into blocs and those devoted to a sort of toxic footballing masculinity, a country loved everywhere for its football has become one to be avoided, to be beaten at all costs: ‘Let everyone else win, but not them’.

How did this come about? A mix of external perception and fan-driven self-narrative, the endless masses of Biancocelesti who, drums in hand, took over Times Square just like the Arab ‘non-places’ and Copacabana twelve years ago: Argentina must ‘ponerle huevos’, play with some guts, like any provincial or upstart arriving on these stages for the first time. A circumstance which has turned the Albiceleste, as someone wrote, into a sort of Paraguay with Leo Messi thrown in.

Of course, there is a misunderstanding: ever since football began, alongside instances of ‘man-hunting’ (the 1974 World Cup in Germany, for example), in the regions around Buenos Aires and Rosario, the game has always been regarded as an art form. Proof of this is that the two greatest footballers of all time were born there and made the Selección’s fortune. Even in 2026, Lionel Scaloni’s Argentina continues to boast impressive technical and tactical qualities, though it readily prioritises ‘los huevos’ above them.

Looking solely at the squad list, the meagre playing time given to Nico Paz stands out – a star product of Real Madrid’s youth academy whom Como overpaid to keep him for another year in the Champions League. Is the manager certain he wouldn’t have been useful, starting on the left as a counterpart to ‘Diez’? Not to mention Thiago Almada, who was dropped after his initial performances weren’t bad, or Giovani Lo Celso’s footwork, capable of a masterful free-kick against Jordan during his rare moments of freedom on the pitch.

And we might go on to point out that creative wingers, attacking midfielders full of promise, and valuable left-footed players were left out due to squad numbers: but what prospects would Alejandro Garnacho, Franco Mastantuono and Matías Soulé have had, when even Giuliano Simeone was used sparingly – and only to fulfil specific roles – towards the very end of the campaign? Could it be that stirring up a brawl and prioritising intimidation was, in fact, a deliberate strategy – if not from the manager, then from the fans?

Argentines, come to your senses. Why project the image of a team of blacksmiths when you know perfectly well how to play football – whether it’s the street version that embraces the mystique of poverty, or the high-flying version where results and trophies are expected? Why present elbow jabs to the face, feints for the camera, and misunderstood "huevos" as your defining traits, when you have always also embodied dignified elegance and a constant wellspring of promise (though not always fulfilled?)

The proof lies in the most heated semi-final: after a first half reminiscent of the OK Corral, the South Americans put England under pressure by deciding to really get stuck in, creating chances that were denied by the woodwork and saves from Jordan Pickford, before securing a well-deserved victory thanks to Messi. So it can be done. And the fans should be the first to demand it – top-class football is more than possible: leave the rough-and-tumble to the frustrated lot who can’t see beauty when it’s right in front of them. Stop just sitting back and kicking, and give Argentina back to the whole world.