There are phrases in football that resonate like a last-minute goal—powerful, unforgettable, and capable of changing the course of history.

One such phrase, uttered recently by Carles Rexach, has sent ripples through the world of football and, in particular, through the corridors of FC Barcelona.

“It will take 50 years to see another Messi,” Rexach declared, and those words carry the weight of experience, foresight, and perhaps a warning to a football world obsessed with finding the next great idol.

Carles Rexach is not just any observer.

He is not a journalist writing from the heart, nor a fan driven by hope.

He is the man who, when faced with a 12-year-old boy with growth problems, saw not just a child but the future greatest player of all time.

Rexach’s signature on a paper napkin to secure Lionel Messi’s arrival at Barcelona is now the stuff of legend—a decision that would transform not only the club but the sport itself.

Today, as the football world turns its gaze to Lamine Yamal, a prodigious 17-year-old already boasting over 100 appearances, 20 goals, and nearly 30 assists for Barcelona’s first team, the urge to crown him as Messi’s successor is palpable.

Yamal’s left foot does things that should be impossible at his age, and he dazzles in a club where minutes are hard-earned, not given.

It all sounds like a story we’ve heard before: the precocious talent, the record-breaker, the teenager who steps onto the Camp Nou pitch and plays as if born for the moment.

But, as Rexach reminds us, the comparison is both natural and dangerous.

“Comparing is fine, but equaling is another match altogether,” he says.

Rexach, who witnessed Messi’s transformation from a skinny kid to a global icon, knows better than anyone the magnitude of what Messi achieved.

He is quick to praise Yamal’s talent, but equally quick to inject a dose of realism.

“Messi was more skillful, faster in dribbling, executed at supersonic speed.

And even though he wasn’t a number nine, he scored more goals than anyone.

Lamine is a great player, but I don’t think he can be as prolific or as good as Messi.”

It is a harsh assessment, perhaps, but not an unfair one.

Rexach is not dismissing Yamal’s abilities; rather, he is placing them in a necessary context.

In football’s modern era, the rush to anoint the “next Messi” is relentless, but as Rexach points out, Messi is a historical anomaly—a player who dominated world football for 15 years, won eight Ballon d’Or awards, broke every record at Barcelona, and capped it all off with a World Cup for Argentina at age 35.

How many players can claim such a résumé? How many ever will? How many can even dream of coming close?

Rexach’s words freeze the air: “With Messi, there is a before and after in football.”

It is not just what Messi did with the ball, but how he changed the rules of the game, how he redefined what we expect from a footballer, how he turned the impossible into the routine.

So what about Lamine Yamal? Is he a genuine phenomenon or another victim of the media’s ceaseless hunger for the next idol? Statistically, there are reasons for excitement.

At 17, Yamal has already surpassed Messi’s numbers at the same age: more matches, more goals, more assists.

But is that enough? Is football reducible to numbers, or is there something more—something intangible—that statistics cannot capture?

This is where the narrative shifts from records to aura, from data to influence, from numbers to symbolism.

Messi, by age 19, was already the player who made fans rise from their seats, who decided matches with a glance, who scored hat-tricks in El Clásico and walked off as if it were nothing.

That kind of magic does not appear every year, or even every decade.

As Rexach says, perhaps it comes along only once every 50 years.

Is it fair to place such a burden on a boy who cannot yet legally buy a beer in Spain? Shouldn’t we let Yamal grow, enjoy his game, and develop his own identity without the crushing weight of comparison? Football already has enough imitators.

What it needs is originality—each generation with its own reference points.

Let Yamal be Yamal; let Messi remain a legend.

Comparisons, while inevitable, should not blind us to the most important truth: football is lived in the present but honored with memory.

The pressure of legacy is especially acute at Barcelona, a club that has, over the past two decades, become synonymous with youth development and the pursuit of footballing excellence.

The story of Messi’s arrival—his hormone treatment, his rapid rise through La Masia, his transformative impact on the first team—has become a template, a fairy tale that every young player is expected to follow.

But as Rexach’s comments remind us, the circumstances that produced Messi were unique, and the expectation that they can be replicated is both unrealistic and unfair.

Yamal’s journey is remarkable in its own right.

His precocity, his fearlessness, his technical brilliance—these are qualities that mark him out as a potential star.

But the temptation to see every gifted youngster as the “next Messi” does a disservice to both the player and the game.

It reduces individual achievement to a footnote in someone else’s story.

Instead, we should celebrate Yamal for what he is: a new talent with the potential to write his own chapter in Barcelona’s rich history.

The phenomenon of comparison is not unique to Barcelona.

In every era, football has sought to find successors to its greatest icons—Pele, Maradona, Cruyff, Ronaldo, and now Messi.

Each new talent is measured against the impossible standards set by their predecessors, and the media frenzy only amplifies the pressure.

But as history shows, true greatness cannot be manufactured or foretold; it must be allowed to flourish on its own terms.

Rexach’s perspective is shaped by decades of experience, not only as a player and coach but as a talent scout with a keen eye for the extraordinary.

His decision to back Messi, when others saw only a frail boy with medical issues, changed the trajectory of Barcelona and world football.

When he speaks, it is with the authority of someone who has seen what few others have.

His message is clear: enjoy the present, honor the past, but do not rush to anoint the future.

The story of Messi is, at its core, a story of transformation—of a club, a city, and a sport.

His influence extends far beyond the pitch, shaping the identity of Barcelona and inspiring millions around the world.

For Yamal, the challenge is not to become the next Messi, but to become the first Lamine Yamal.

To carve out his own legacy, to inspire the next generation, and to remind us all that football’s beauty lies in its unpredictability.

The shadow of Messi will always loom large over Barcelona.

His records may eventually be broken, but his impact will endure.

The club’s history is punctuated by moments of brilliance, heartbreak, and renewal.

Each new talent brings hope, but also the risk of disappointment.

The key is to strike a balance—to nurture ambition without stifling individuality, to celebrate potential without succumbing to the tyranny of comparison.

As Barcelona continues its quest for glory, Yamal’s progress will be watched with keen interest.

He has the skills, the mentality, and the platform to achieve greatness.

But whether he becomes a legend in his own right will depend not only on his talent but on his ability to withstand the pressures that come with expectation.

The lesson from Rexach is as relevant today as it was when he first spotted Messi: greatness cannot be rushed, nor can it be replicated.

It emerges in its own time, in its own way.

The task for fans, coaches, and the media is to recognize and appreciate the uniqueness of each player, to resist the urge to fit every rising star into a pre-existing mold.

As the debate rages on, one thing is certain: football’s future will be shaped by the talents and personalities of the next generation.

Whether Yamal becomes a legend or simply a very good player, his journey will be his own.

The story of Messi will remain a guiding light, a reminder of what is possible, but it should not become a prison for those who follow.

In the end, football is about joy, creativity, and the thrill of the unexpected.

It is about the moments that make us believe in magic.

As Rexach says, perhaps it is time to stop searching for the next Messi and start enjoying what we have.

Because while legends are remembered, the game is lived in the here and now.

So, does Lamine Yamal have what it takes to write his own story, or are we once again falling into the trap of eternal comparison? The answer, perhaps, lies not in statistics or headlines, but in the simple act of watching him play—free from expectations, free to be himself.

And that, ultimately, is the greatest tribute we can pay to both Messi and the game itself.