Chinese theme park is Messi’s first step to immortality
Argentine’s fight for supremacy with Ronaldo entered a whole new phase this week, writes Jonathan Liew
It is intended to preach the gospel of Messi long after he has executed his last shimmy
Lionel Messi was on tour in China this week, and among the beaming selfies, the beige platitudes and the customary boot launch came the following arresting morsel: the world’s first Messi theme park will open in Nanjing in early 2019.
“Hopefully they will feel that I am around when visiting the park,” Messi told reporters, which suggests that, regretfully, he himself may not be the most frequent visitor. Instead, the Messi Experience Park features 81,000 square metres of football-based sideshows, multimedia attractions and landscaped gardens, and will – according to the press release – “immerse visitors in Messi’s universe”.
Naturally, it is tempting to imagine which other footballing personalities might follow the trend. Joey Barton World, perhaps: an immersive playground of the mind, with philosophical conundra, an on-site bookmaker and random acts of physical violence. Or the David Moyes Adventure, boasting just one attraction: the world’s steadiest roller-coaster, which neither twists nor turns but simply trundles to a halt after about a decade, leaving you cold, nauseous and weeping.
But the real relevance of the Messi Experience Park is not so much in what it might contain, as what it might represent. And on one level, it is easy to dismiss all this as simply another spoke in football’s wheel of transient nonsense: Cristiano Ronaldo gets a museum, Messi gets a theme park, the internet wins. Look closer, however, and something far more interesting is happening. The world’s two greatest footballers may still be at the pinnacle of the sport. But the search for a legacy is already beginning.
Messi was not in China on official Barcelona business. No, this was strictly personal, which gives us a certain insight into the psyche of the modern super-footballer, one that has as its central objective not just greatness, but immortality.
For any footballer with designs on the Pantheon, this is a multi-layered journey. Layer one, evidently, is achievement: goals, trophies, currency.
Layer two is personality: the website, the trademarked monogram, the charity foundation, the social media brand. Layer three is business: commercial ventures, documentaries, the celebrity fragrance. The trailblazer in this regard was David Beckham, who during his peak years assembled an appeal that arguably transcended that of the clubs he played for. But for all his immense fame, Beckham was only ever able to reach layer three. The real legend-building happens in layer four, and it is measured not just in statistics but in statues; not just in medals but in museums.
One of the most interesting things about the Messi-ronaldo duopoly is the iconographic dimension of their appeal, so readily lapsing into a sort of deific devotion, an article of religious faith. You are Messi or Ronaldo, never both. For many, the sense of belonging to one or the other is deeper than any affection for Barcelona or Real Madrid.
Here, then, is the real point of the Messi Experience Park. It is not merely a money-spinner, but a monument: a place of sanctity, legacy, remembrance. As Messi admits, it is targeted not at the current generation, but the next. It is intended to preach the gospel of Messi long after the man himself has executed his last shimmy. If all he wanted was to get rich, he could have invested in property.
For centuries, people of importance have consumed themselves with thoughts of the afterlife. Pharoahs entombed themselves with gold. Medieval kings consecrated immense monoliths to blazon their piety.
Perhaps, for the super-footballer, the theme park, the airport bust and the charitable foundation are simply new objects of devotion. Perhaps the gods are now building their own churches.