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To the American defenders, he is a rumor, at once everywhere and nowhere, a thing bouncing between them without origin or destination. He is gossip, insinuation, a wisp of spreading outrage. Four men converge on the spot he just stood. Another collides with him, hard, but Messi rolls away unhurt. Again. Again. He is a pinball, a whippet, a ricochet. He is knocked to the turf. Lies motionless. Rises. He stands completely still in the cold, head down, unseen and unseeing, a man waiting for the bus, until he springs away, the ball riding his instep.

The ball follows him like a dog. When it wanders, he calls it and it comes to him. They confer briefly. He scratches it behind the ear. He sends it rushing ahead.

Argentina scores.

Jeff MacGregor, ESPN