"An Argentine can get fired up in two minutes," Buenos Aires sports journalist Tato Aguilera says. Which tells you everything about why the current calm in the Argentine capital is so unusual — and why it probably won't last past the opening whistle.
Less than two weeks out from the 2026 World Cup, the country that stopped functioning for days after winning in Qatar is carrying itself with something close to composure. Billboards of Messi and the squad are everywhere. The noise, though, is different. Lower. More reflective than frenzied.
The reason isn't hard to find. Argentina waited 36 years between World Cup wins. Once the Qatar trophy was lifted, the existential weight lifted with it. "We have a different kind of calm," Felipe Mujica, a 39-year-old Buenos Aires architect and self-described nightmare to sit next to during matches, puts it. "The expectations are lower."
The last dance problem
At 38, Lionel Messi is walking into his sixth World Cup. Almost certainly his last. Argentina knows it, even if nobody particularly wants to say it out loud.
"Here in Argentina we know that it is his last World Cup but it's something we don't want to believe," Aguilera says. "We want to continue that illusion that Messi is immortal."
That illusion is doing real work right now. It's the emotional thread connecting this tournament to the last one — the reason the country isn't entirely indifferent despite having already won. The question isn't just whether Argentina can repeat. It's whether this is the last time Messi gets to try.
What the odds and history say
The bookmakers currently rank Argentina fifth favourites. A Goldman Sachs model goes further, factoring in what the bank labels a "winner's slump" effect — defending champions historically underperform the following cycle. The data backs the caution.
If Argentina do win, they'd become only the third nation to claim back-to-back World Cups, joining Italy (1934 and 1938) and Brazil (1958 and 1962). That's the company we're talking about. Coach Lionel Scaloni doesn't pretend otherwise: "The truth is that it's very difficult, but well, not impossible, right?"
Sociologist Diego Murzi, who studies Argentine football culture, is blunter about what's already been achieved: "That World Cup was very intense, and I doubt it will be repeated." The December 2022 scenes — millions filling highways and overpasses in Buenos Aires — set a benchmark that no sporting event is likely to clear again.
The fifth-favourite tag and the winner's slump model make Argentina an interesting case for anyone pricing outright markets. The sentimental case for them is obvious. The statistical case is considerably thinner.
Still. The whistle blows, Messi touches the ball, and suddenly a city of tempered expectations becomes something else entirely.
