affection

MONTEVIDEO, Uruguay — Jorge Messi, the father of soccer star and Argentina captain Lionel Messi, died Saturday at a hospital in the central Argentina city of Rosario. He was 68.

The Rosario-based Club Atlético Newell’s Old Boys announced his death in a social media post that said he had undergone treatment in recent months for an unspecified illness. The post described him as “the pillar and the person who, with vision, rigor and affection, supported the career of the best player of all time, alongside his wife, Celia Cuccittini.”

The South American Football Confederation, CONMEBOL, in a statement also offered its condolences “with respect and affection for Lionel.”

Lionel Messi led Argentina to a runner-up finish in this year’s World Cup. In the team’s first match, against Algeria, he was visibly emotional after scoring the first of his three goals. He said later that he wept for “a reason unrelated to sports.”

Inter Miami star Lionel Messi hugs his father, Jorge Messi, while his mother, Celia Cuccittini, looks on after a playoff match against Nashville SC in November 2025.

(Leonardo Fernandez / Getty Images)

“I went through some difficult, complicated days,” he said. “I am grateful to the delegation, to all my teammates, because they were always by my side wishing me strength so that I would be OK.”

Media reports at the time outraged the Messi family, which days later released a statement confirming that “Jorge is experiencing a health issue,” without specifying the nature of his condition.

“A person’s health and the peace of mind of their loved ones should not be the subject of speculation or irresponsible media interest,” according to the statement, which also expressed “discomfort at the lack of sensitivity, respect and scruples with which some people have treated a strictly private and family matter.”

Jorge Messi was a chemical technician and worked as a steelworker. He played soccer as a midfielder and reached the youth ranks of Newell’s Old Boys but had to abandon the sport to complete his mandatory military service in Argentina.

Argentina’s Lionel Messi sits on the pitch after losing to Spain in the World Cup final in East Rutherford, N.J., on July 19.

(Ashley Landis / Associated Press)

He played a fundamental role in his third son’s career, serving as his agent and managing his business affairs. He was the one who traveled with a young Messi to Barcelona in the early 2000s for the trial that would open the doors to La Masia, the Catalan club’s youth academy. Lionel Messi made his professional debut in 2005 and went on to win eight Ballon d’Or awards. He led Argentina to the 2022 World Cup title.

“My dad was always by my side,” Lionel Messi said in a 2007 interview with Radio del Plata. “Sometimes I would lock myself in my room to cry when we arrived in Barcelona, or my dad would do the same without me seeing him, or thinking I didn’t see him. We pretended we were both OK, but we weren’t. My dad even asked me what I wanted to do when we were feeling down, if I wanted to stay or go back, and I wanted to stay, and he stayed with me.”

His father negotiated the contracts with Barça and later his transfers to Paris Saint-Germain and Inter Miami, while also managing the use of his famous son’s image rights and his numerous investments in real estate, hotels, and restaurants.

In 2016, father and son were convicted in the Spanish courts on tax evasion charges, but avoided prison because the sentence was less than two years.

Barreiro writes for the Associated Press.

In Australian writer-director Adrian Chiarella’s knotty roller coaster of a feature debut “Leviticus,” about a demon tormenting a pair of queer teenage boys, the fear is more insidious than the external threat of a violent bigot or shunning parent.

In an abandoned mill in their blighted industrial town, quiet new kid Naim (Joe Bird) and brash hunk Ryan (Stacy Clausen) allow a friendly, mischievous connection to turn into something more. But when Naim later secretly observes his new crush fiercely locking lips with another classmate, Hunter (Jeremy Blewitt), son of a leader in the tight-knit church that Naim’s single mom (Mia Wasikowska) just joined, hurt gets the better of Naim’s instincts and he secretly informs on the pair.

The church’s punishment, however, delivered in front of the congregants, is an eerie ritual performed by a gaunt, severe visitor (Nicholas Hope). Called a “deliverance healer,” his fire-and-brimstone method — making incarnate the title’s Biblical book, regularly used to justify anti-LGBTQ viewpoints — leave Ryan and Hunter writhing in agony. Afterward, Naim, sensing he might have unwittingly set into motion something awful, notices bizarre behavior in the stricken-looking Ryan. When they try to furtively rekindle their passion, it becomes violently clear they are not alone. Or even, it seems, themselves.

The feeling that nowhere is safe is a durable horror concept, the backbone behind such classics as “Nightmare on Elm Street” and “It Follows.” In “Leviticus,” which is expertly paced by editor Nick Fenton, it comes with a flair for open-space unease and unexpected claustrophobia that puts director Chiarella in a long line of savvy Australian mood-setters like Peter Weir and Fred Schepisi. These filmmakers knew how to fold tactile dread into a worthy narrative, rather than treat genre as if it were a kit with instructions.

But most urgently and bleakly, Chiarella is giving religious-based conversion therapy its devilish due as a warping of the soul designed to sow distrust in one’s own desires. He’s careful, however, not to tell a tale that would speak to homophobes. As distressing as their circumstance is, Naim and Ryan are unmistakably positioned as heroic lovers, not victims-to-be. Chiarella takes time between bouts of danger to show affection and intimacy that, in defiance of teen-slasher formula, isn’t immediately penalized with sadism. But their fraught relationship will decidedly keep you nervous, so score one for multilayered storytelling.

Points, too, for the solid casting, from the leads’ tricky pivoting from openness to caginess, to the criminally underseen Wasikowska, who navigates maternal complexities of worry and compassion that confound easy pigeonholing. If anything, the movie could have used more of her, although it’s better overall that “Leviticus” prioritizes Naim and Ryan as queer protagonists caught in a chilling loop of escape and reunion. We already know what’s out there, ready to do harm. This movie’s nail-biting, sorrowful power comes from what internalized destruction looks like.