Messi picks Brazil, France, England as favorites; Qatar escalates defense against critics

Five days before the opening whistle, Lionel Messi sat down to talk about Argentina's chances at the World Cup in Qatar, and what he said was measured, almost cautious. At thirty-five years old, likely playing in his final tournament, Messi knew better than to predict anything. Argentina had won the Cup twice before—in 1978 and 1986—and he had been there in 2014 when they lost the final. Now, with a squad that had just won the Copa America and spent months playing together under coach Lionel Scaloni, Messi spoke of taking things one step at a time. The team would open against Saudi Arabia on November 22, in a group that also held Mexico and Poland. Before that, a friendly against the United Arab Emirates in Abu Dhabi. "We know each other's characteristics and what is best for each moment," Messi told the South American football federation. The advantage of continuity, he suggested, was everything.

When asked to name the favorites, Messi did not hedge. Brazil, France, and England stood a notch above the rest, he said—though he was careful to add that the World Cup remained gloriously unpredictable. "Whenever we talk about candidates, we always talk about the same teams," he observed. "But the World Cup is so difficult and so complicated that anything can happen." He had settled into life in Paris after a difficult first year at PSG, he added, and his family was happy. The move from Barcelona, the club of his boyhood, had taken time to absorb. Now he was ready.

While Messi spoke of patience and process, Qatar's government was doing something altogether different. Facing a mounting storm of criticism from Europe over its treatment of migrant workers, women's rights, and protections for LGBTQ people, the Gulf state had begun to fight back with a sharper edge. Five days before the tournament began, Hassan Al-Thawadi, the secretary-general of Qatar's organizing committee, told Al Jazeera that the attacks amounted to jealousy. Qatar, he said, was an Arab nation that had competed as equals and won the hosting rights—and that success had provoked resentment. Sheikh Ahmed bin Hamad Al-Thani, a member of the Qatar Football Association's executive board, framed the criticism differently: "For me, the presence of the enemy is a blessing and not a curse." The word choice was deliberate and sharp.

The tone had hardened over recent weeks. In late October, Qatar's emir, Sheikh Tamim Hamad Al-Thani, had told the national legislature that the country faced an "unprecedented" campaign marked by "double standards." The foreign minister, Mohammed bin Abdulrahman bin Jassim Al Thani, had traveled through Europe giving interviews in which he called the criticism "hypocrisy," claiming it came from "a very small number of people, in 10 countries at most." When a British media outlet reported on the hacking of Qatar's World Cup opponents, a government official warned that Qatar would explore "all our legal options" to hold those responsible accountable. A European diplomat in Doha, speaking anonymously because of the sensitivity, said Qatar had reached "the end of the line with the criticism." The defensive crouch had become an offensive stance.

Meanwhile, in Iran, the national team's coach Carlos Queiroz was navigating a different kind of pressure. The country had been convulsed by anti-government protests since September, when a twenty-two-year-old woman named Mahsa Amini died in police custody after her arrest for allegedly violating the strict dress code for women. The Iranian players would be watched closely at the World Cup for any sign of solidarity with the demonstrations. Queiroz, a Portuguese coach, addressed the question directly at a press conference. "Everybody has the right to express themselves," he said, comparing it to players in England taking the knee in anti-racism protests. "You guys are used to bending your knees in the games. Some people agree, some people don't agree with that. And Iran is exactly the same." He insisted the team had no internal problems, that the players were focused on making history—Iran had appeared in the World Cup six times but never advanced past the group stage. They would open against England on Monday, then face the United States and Wales. For Queiroz, the message was clear: the players were free to speak, but their primary mission was football.