Three goals. Three. In a World Cup final. And still, a defeat.

If anyone read this sentence in a novel, they might say the author was exaggerating. Reality isn’t that cruel. But the FIFA World Cup final between France and Argentina at Qatar's Lusail Stadium on December 18, 2022 proved that reality is sometimes far more ruthless than fiction.

What Kylian Mbappe did that day is worthy of being written in golden letters in the pages of history. Yet, at the exact same time, it remains a wound that does not heal easily.

The first half of the match was a nightmare for France. Argentina weren't just playing; they were flying. Lionel Messi opened the scoreboard with a penalty kick. Then came an unbelievable goal by Di Maria -- a chip shot in a World Cup final at 36 years old, like a painter’s final masterstroke.

Argentina were up by two goals. The stadium lights were drowned in blue and white. The French fans were silent, stunned, devastated.

In the dugout, Didier Deschamps sat with his hand pressed against his forehead. He made some substitutions. But what could he do? It was as if someone had sucked the energy right out of the entire team's legs.

Mbappe? He was there. He was on the pitch. But it was as if he was invisible. The Argentine defense kept pushing him into corners time and again. Nicolas Otamendi and Cristian Romero were like shadows at his feet. Until the 80th minute, that match was a display of absolute Argentine dominance.

Then, the world stood still.

The 80th minute. Kolo Muani was fouled inside the penalty box. The referee did not hesitate. Penalty.

Mbappe stepped forward. He placed the ball on the spot. He looked toward Emiliano Martinez. In that gaze, there was neither fear nor rigidity. It was the eye of a man who knew exactly what he was capable of.

The ball hit the back of the net.

The French fans erupted. But by then, 80 minutes had already passed. Only ten minutes remained. Mbappe had reduced the two-goal deficit to one. But what difference would a single goal make?

It would make all the difference. What was meant to happen, happened.

Ninety-seven seconds passed. In the very next minute, Marcus Thuram sent a cross from the left side. Mbappe was inside the box. He got the ball. He raised his left foot. A volley. The kind of volley that can only be struck by a man whose feet nature has blessed with something extra.

2-2.

Lusail Stadium fell dead silent for a single second. Then, it collapsed into pure madness.

The match that had seemed dead suddenly leaped back to its feet. Equalised in ninety minutes. Extra time.

In the stadium where Argentina’s celebrations had begun just moments ago, an eerie silence descended. The French fans were screaming in ecstasy, while fear suddenly cast a shadow over Argentine eyes.

One man, in just two minutes, had changed the face of history.

In extra time, Argentina came forward once again. Messi’s goal, 3-2. It felt like there was no way back this time. It was as if destiny had finally declared its ultimate verdict.

But Mbappe, it seemed, refused to accept defeat.

A French attack, a shot, the ball struck a defender's hand. Another penalty.

The stadium fell hush.

Mbappe stepped forward again. He placed the ball on the spot. The same eyes. The same detached, cold composure.

3-3.

A hattrick.

A hattrick in a World Cup final. On football’s grandest stage, in the moment of ultimate pressure.

Such an event is rare in the pages of history. No one had done it since Geoff Hurst in 1966. Mbappe did not just do it; he did it as if he were carrying the dreams of an entire nation on his lone shoulders.

Yet, the irony was devastating.

A penalty shootout.

Football’s most cruel method of judgment. A lone man from ten yards out. A lone goalkeeper. And the remaining two hundred million people holding their breath.

Emiliano was miraculous that day. He blocked Kingsley Coman’s shot. Aurelien Tchouameni’s shot hit the post and went wide. Argentina won 4-2 on penalties.

Messi collapsed onto the field. Tears in his eyes. At the end of a 35-year wait, he had found his heaven.

Mbappe stood there. His head wasn't bowed, yet somewhere, there was a profound helplessness. Around him, Argentina’s celebration erupted. A flood of blue and white. He was entirely alone -- a red and blue island in the middle of a blue and white ocean.

He had scored three goals. In a World Cup final. And yet, the cup was not in his hands.

There is no name for this agony.

Moments like this are rare in sports history, where a man does something extraordinary, and even that is not enough. Mbappe's night was exactly like that. Three goals. Erasing the deficit. Personally dragging his team back from the jaws of death. And finally, standing at the penalty spot to fire a flawless shot while carrying all the buried pressure inside his chest.

But his teammates couldn't deliver. And that is not counted in Mbappe’s goal tally.

This is where football is cruel. It is not an individual sport. What Mbappe did was reach the absolute peak of what a single person could possibly achieve. 

Yet, the burden of the rest of the team's failure fell upon his shoulders, because outside the box, history only writes 'Champions' or 'Runners-up'.

After the match, thousands of people surrounded Messi. That image became the global picture of pure joy. 

And Mbappe? He walked back to the locker room. In the final moments captured by the cameras, he was seen walking up to the podium, letting the runners-up medal be placed around his neck, and then immediately taking it off. He couldn't keep that medal on.

In that single moment, everything had been said.

To him, that silver medal perhaps felt like an insult that day. When the trophy doesn't end up in your hands even after scoring three goals, what meaning does a medal hold anyway?