Want to see jaws drop? Ask any soccer fan about Lamine Yamal, the 18-year-old Spanish wonder. Better yet, catch him live next summer when the World Cup moves to North America — its draw set for Washington, D.C. — in what could be Lionel Messi’s farewell tournament. While Messi’s era may be closing, Lamine’s is only beginning: still too young to drive and still wearing braces, he already has the world at his feet.
It was the summer of Euro 2024 in Munich that turned Lamine from a promising teenager into an international name. His performance in the semifinal helped push Spain past France and set the stage for the title, and overnight he became more than a prospect. Now a starting winger for FC Barcelona, he combines finishing with improvisation: balletic feints, sudden spins and tricks that regularly leave stadiums gasping.
“If I were a fullback, I wouldn’t like it if someone kept leaving me behind,” he says with a grin. “I’d ask them to slow down a bit — otherwise my friends would make memes about it.” Asked about his on-field goal beyond goals and assists, he replies simply: “I want to make people happier. If someone comes to a game sad and goes home smiling, I’ve done my job.”
Last season’s Ballon d’Or runner-up among his generation, Lamine has also won over ardent football lovers and broadcasters. Ray Hudson called him an “absolute diamond,” marveling at how defenders seem spellbound when Yamal shifts direction. Hudson compared watching him to following a dragonfly: fleeting, intoxicating, impossible to pin down.
The ball, Lamine says, is more than an object — it is his first love. When asked if he talks to it, he laughs and admits he might jokingly propose: “I’d tell it to marry me and have lots of kids.”
His story began in Rocafonda, a tough immigrant neighborhood north of Barcelona. Born in Spain to a Moroccan father and an Equatorial Guinean mother, he honed his skills on a concrete slab by the Mediterranean, where the stands are simply the steps around the pitch. A mural there reads, in spirit if not exact wording, calling for “more Lamine Yamals and fewer evictions.” That instability at home, he says, was often harder to bear than the pressure at Barça. After scoring, he often salutes his roots with a “304” gesture, a nod to the local zip code, 08304.
Uncle Abdul runs the LY 304 Café a few blocks from the neighborhood ground. “Lamine was always sharp as a kid, doing things on his own,” Abdul says. “He has the maturity of someone much older.” Scouts spotted him at six, and he traveled by train to La Masia, Barcelona’s famed academy. He stood out immediately and, at 15, made his professional debut — the youngest in the club’s long history. Two years on, with a distinctive look and a string of standout displays, he’s lived up to the early hype.
When matches tighten, Lamine says he wants to “make magic.” He remembers the small crowds in Rocafonda and the thrill of seeing neighbors leap to their feet. He admits he enjoys being a star: “In fact, I like it,” he says plainly.
Comparisons to Messi are unavoidable, and Lamine addresses them respectfully. “I respect him for everything he has been and still is to the game,” he says. “If we ever meet on the pitch, there will be mutual respect. He’s the best in history. I don’t want to be Messi — I want to follow my own path.” The connection runs oddly deep: a 2007 photo by Joan Monfort of a young Messi holding a baby in a UNICEF calendar turned out to feature that infant — Lamine. Monfort called the coincidence “like winning the lottery.”
Less than two decades later, Lamine’s family — including his Moroccan grandmother — watched as he signed a Barcelona deal reported in the press at roughly $30 million a season and was handed the No. 10 jersey once worn by Messi. Asked whether life is moving too fast, he answers with an analogy: if offered the chance to be your boss at work, would you say no? “Am I going too fast? That’s my answer.”
Admirers also urge caution: talent alone isn’t a guarantee. Injuries, personal challenges or family troubles can all derail a career. “We’ll see it on the pitch, because the green doesn’t lie,” Hudson warned. Asked who in his circle can really say “no” to him, Lamine smiles and says everyone can, but he listens to his mother most of all.
Can he ever be a normal 18-year-old? “I try to keep things simple — video games, hanging out with my brother — but I know I won’t be normal, because people don’t see me that way,” he says. His braces, or “los brackets,” have become part of his image; asked whether he’ll remove them before the World Cup, he jokes he’ll call his dentist and then decides, “I’ll leave them on. I look good with brackets.” He laughs.
With or without braces, Lamine and Spain will enter the World Cup among the favorites. When asked directly whether Spain will win the tournament, his one-word response in English: “Yes.”
Produced by Draggan Mihailovich and Nathalie Sommer. Field producer Sabina Castelfranco. Associate producer Emily Cameron. Broadcast associate Mimi Lamarre. Edited by Warren Lustig. Special thanks to Guillem Balagué.