Every Time I Score, I Point to the Sky — It’s Not for the Crowd, It’s for My Grandma” — Lionel Messi Shares His Story

I know people cheer when I score. The cameras flash, the crowd roars, and the world watches.

But every time I score, I do one simple thing: I raise my hand and point to the sky.

And I’m not doing it for show.

I’m doing it for her.

My grandmother, Celia.
The woman who gave me everything before the world gave me anything.

I was born in Rosario, Argentina, a quiet boy with a ball at my feet and dreams that felt too big for my little body. I was small. Fragile. I had growth hormone deficiency — something no child should have to think about.

But while many people saw weakness in me, she saw fire.

She would walk me to the pitch, hold my hand, and fight for me like only a grandmother can. At five years old, I was too small to be noticed, just sitting on the bench while the bigger boys played.

One day, the team was short a player. I was sitting silently, almost invisible. The coach ignored me, but my grandma didn’t hesitate.

“Put him in,” she said.
“He can play.”

He hesitated.
She didn’t.

They put me in.

And in those few minutes… I became alive. I passed, I ran, I touched the ball like it was part of me. And from that day, I never left the pitch again.

But Then… She Was Gone

When I was 10 years old, she passed away.

Just like that—my loudest voice, my protector, my biggest believer… was gone.

She never got to see me wear the Barcelona jersey. Never watched me win my first Ballon d’Or. Never saw me lift the World Cup.

But everything I am started with her. I don’t think the world would know me without her.

That’s why, even now, every single time I score, I point to the sky.

Not for the cameras.
Not for the crowd.
Not even for the history books.

But for her.

That finger raised?

That’s memory.
That’s love.
That’s me saying,
“Thank you, abuela. This one’s yours.”

If You’re Reading This…

Maybe you’ve lost someone who once saw the best in you. Maybe you’re still chasing something they believed you could become. Just know this — it’s okay to carry them with you.

I carry her in every goal. Every assist. Every tear.

Not just because she believed in me…

But because she never stopped, even when the world laughed.

Who’s that one person that believed in you before anyone else? Are they still with you—or do you carry them in memory like I do? Share it below… someone out there might be holding back because they forgot they were seen once too.