What does God look like?
What did Beatlemania sound like?
How does it feel to be J.J. Watt on Sundays in the fall?
Lionel Messi knows the answer to two of those big three. And Argentina's living, breathing soccer deity was darn close to the athletic version of the big G right before our stunned eyes Tuesday night at NRG Stadium.
I'm about to tell you what it - the kick, the shot, the perfectly made unmakeable goal - was like. But I'm also going to be honest. If you weren't one of the 70,858 chosen ones who somehow got a ticket to Argentina 4, United States 0 in the Copa America semifinals, you'll never really know what watching Messi sink the unthinkable was like.
So turn this into your frozen-in-time postcard. And know the whole time you're reading that you really should have found a way to sneak into the stadium, so you could have seen the real thing up close.
"That is a conversation for another day, because there is a lot that goes into that," said United States midfielder Michael Bradley, after the team's captain was asked what separates Messi from the world's other soccer heroes.
Picture red, white and blue everywhere - first row to the very last. Hear "USA, USA, USA!!!" bouncing off NFL walls and echoing across the green grass. Find the far-away men scattered in packs. Then finally see him: No. 10, Messi, the one.
Messi, Argentina rout U.S. in Copa America semis
"The best player in the world," said U.S. defender Geoff Cameron, who spent 2008-12 with the Dynamo.
It's 1-0 best team in the world. The U.S. still has a dream shot. Then Messi goes down, a yellow card is waved and Messi gets back up.
Silence. Whispering. Building buzz.
The United States forms a wall. A 5-7, 28-year-old man from Rosario, Argentina breaks the useless, worthless thing down.
Messi skates on grass. He's grace; America's all nerves. Then the one they all paid so much to see does what no in the world should be able to do.
A thing of beauty
The ball is lifted off the earth. It arcs across white lines and searches for the top-right corner of the goal, soaring like it's personally attached to a top-secret magnet. U.S. keeper Brad Guzan flies upward, trying to save his country from certain destruction. Messi's shot laughs off the futility and doesn't stop until the net is swaying, Argentina's players are racing around and 70,000-plus are overcome with the shocking joy of disbelief.
"I'll look back at the replay and see if there's anything more I could have done," said Guzan, holding himself accountable for something that was entirely out of his hands.
Just the sight of his holiness was too much for one rabid admirer.
After 2-0 other country at halftime was a fact of life, an overzealous fanatic - perhaps hoping for John, Paul, George or Ringo in the flesh - madly raced onto the field and wrapped up Messi in a loving embrace.
The loon could've been of use on defense for the U.S., which allowed Argentina to complete a near-perfect 92 percent of its first-half passes and was outconnected 323-83 just 45 minutes into the match.
"We let them dictate the pace of the game," Cameron said. "We let them get in the flow. We weren't physical enough. We respected them a little too much."
One of the most-hyped soccer showdowns in Houston history felt more and more like a friendly exhibition as each minute passed. Messi did the sweet, smooth thing. Argentina easily put 3-0 up on the board and could have made it much worse. The panicked Americans chased the leader, desperately tried to stay within reach and weakly gave away almost every decent chance it had to appear internationally respectable.
Argentina is the global leader in round-ball awesomeness. So America's 90-minute setback wasn't exactly unexpected.
Neither was the soccer fury unleashed beneath a Texas state flag and two Texans AFC South championship banners.
There was a jumbotron-televised marriage proposal almost an hour before a nation's chant began ringing and patriotic drums started pounding.
When Argentina's flag was unfurled, NRG Stadium sounded like church. Hushed in reverence, silently proud.
Then Clint Dempsey was shown and the U.S. faithful took over. Then Messi's small, bearded face appeared in the light and a sold-out stadium of Americans briefly bled for Argentina.
Fired up, then defeated
The United States' best effort came a few minutes before the first kick. Every word of the national anthem rang out, with each successive line - "star-spangled banner," "land of the free" - outringing the next.
"Home of the brave" was everything. Until Messi touched the ball.
He perfectly assisted his country's first goal, barely touching a pass that glided and sailed before being expertly fired.
Three minutes in, 1-0 Messi already.
Then freedom created art.
After 32 minutes of oohs, aahs and lovingly drawn-out sighs, the man who really couldn't be as good as everyone swore - no way; overrated; yeah, sure - turned a free kick into sublime personal expression.
"It was perfect," Cameron said. "You can't do anything better than that."
Why does soccer rule the world? Why did a combined 183,985 scoop up tickets to the three Copa matches in Houston and NRG set a single-game soccer attendance record Tuesday?
If you saw Messi in person - one goal, two assists, the kick - you already know the answer for the rest of your life.
"The best player in the world," said U.S. defender Geoff Cameron, who spent 2008-12 with the Dynamo.
It's 1-0 best team in the world. The U.S. still has a dream shot. Then Messi goes down, a yellow card is waved and Messi gets back up.
Silence. Whispering. Building buzz.
The United States forms a wall. A 5-7, 28-year-old man from Rosario, Argentina breaks the useless, worthless thing down.
Messi skates on grass. He's grace; America's all nerves. Then the one they all paid so much to see does what no in the world should be able to do.
A thing of beauty
The ball is lifted off the earth. It arcs across white lines and searches for the top-right corner of the goal, soaring like it's personally attached to a top-secret magnet. U.S. keeper Brad Guzan flies upward, trying to save his country from certain destruction. Messi's shot laughs off the futility and doesn't stop until the net is swaying, Argentina's players are racing around and 70,000-plus are overcome with the shocking joy of disbelief.
"I'll look back at the replay and see if there's anything more I could have done," said Guzan, holding himself accountable for something that was entirely out of his hands.
Just the sight of his holiness was too much for one rabid admirer.
After 2-0 other country at halftime was a fact of life, an overzealous fanatic - perhaps hoping for John, Paul, George or Ringo in the flesh - madly raced onto the field and wrapped up Messi in a loving embrace.
The loon could've been of use on defense for the U.S., which allowed Argentina to complete a near-perfect 92 percent of its first-half passes and was outconnected 323-83 just 45 minutes into the match.
"We let them dictate the pace of the game," Cameron said. "We let them get in the flow. We weren't physical enough. We respected them a little too much."
One of the most-hyped soccer showdowns in Houston history felt more and more like a friendly exhibition as each minute passed. Messi did the sweet, smooth thing. Argentina easily put 3-0 up on the board and could have made it much worse. The panicked Americans chased the leader, desperately tried to stay within reach and weakly gave away almost every decent chance it had to appear internationally respectable.
Argentina is the global leader in round-ball awesomeness. So America's 90-minute setback wasn't exactly unexpected.
Neither was the soccer fury unleashed beneath a Texas state flag and two Texans AFC South championship banners.
There was a jumbotron-televised marriage proposal almost an hour before a nation's chant began ringing and patriotic drums started pounding.
When Argentina's flag was unfurled, NRG Stadium sounded like church. Hushed in reverence, silently proud.
Then Clint Dempsey was shown and the U.S. faithful took over. Then Messi's small, bearded face appeared in the light and a sold-out stadium of Americans briefly bled for Argentina.
Fired up, then defeated
The United States' best effort came a few minutes before the first kick. Every word of the national anthem rang out, with each successive line - "star-spangled banner," "land of the free" - outringing the next.
"Home of the brave" was everything. Until Messi touched the ball.
He perfectly assisted his country's first goal, barely touching a pass that glided and sailed before being expertly fired.
Three minutes in, 1-0 Messi already.
Then freedom created art.
After 32 minutes of oohs, aahs and lovingly drawn-out sighs, the man who really couldn't be as good as everyone swore - no way; overrated; yeah, sure - turned a free kick into sublime personal expression.
"It was perfect," Cameron said. "You can't do anything better than that."
Why does soccer rule the world? Why did a combined 183,985 scoop up tickets to the three Copa matches in Houston and NRG set a single-game soccer attendance record Tuesday?
If you saw Messi in person - one goal, two assists, the kick - you already know the answer for the rest of your life.
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