Which team suffered the most at this World Cup? Ask that question and you'll quickly find yourself drowning in conspiracy theories.
On one side stand the 2022 World Cup champions and three-time winners Argentina, proudly holding up pamphlets bearing the slogan "Us against the world" in bold red. On the other stand, well, the representatives of the other 47 teams at the tournament.
Yet when the tournament's numbers are placed alongside what unfolded on and off the pitch, they suggest Argentina may have been less victims of circumstance than of a narrative they increasingly embraced themselves.
The curtain fell on the 2026 World Cup on Monday, with Spain deservedly lifting their second title after a commanding victory over Argentina -- one that the narrow 1-0 scoreline barely did justice.
While Argentina simply failed to turn up, anyone who watched the final will remember just how comprehensively Spain swept them aside. La Roja monopolised possession with purpose, sliced through Argentina with incisive football and, for virtually the entire contest, never allowed the Albiceleste to gain a foothold. The gulf between the teams was so pronounced that, rather than confronting what unfolded on the pitch, many Argentina supporters have instead turned to conspiracy theories in an attempt to explain away one of the most one-sided World Cup finals in recent memory.
Social media has since been flooded with these theories. Some supporters have painstakingly compiled lists of as many as 20 supposedly suspicious incidents, many centred around Lionel Messi's words to his teammates in the tunnel before kick-off: "Whatever happens, let's just play."
From there, the sense of victimhood only intensified. The prevailing attitude from parts of the Argentina camp has been that the team were subjected to disproportionate hostility throughout the tournament, often unfairly, they argue. Yet the final alone offered plenty of reasons why this particular Albiceleste side played a significant role in inviting much of the criticism directed their way.
They flew recklessly into heavy challenges in an attempt to disrupt Spain's fluid football, threw elbows during tactical fouls, resorted to simulation, and even the legendary Messi joined the theatrics, appearing to try to get Marc Cucurella sent off after the Spaniard muttered something behind his hand, desperately trying to divert attention from Enzo Fernandez's crunching tackle to Nicolas Tagliafico, who several yards away, produced an exaggerated piece of play-acting that would have made even Switzerland's Breel Embolo proud.
Then came the final whistle. Rather than accepting defeat after being comprehensively outplayed, several Argentina players, alongside coaching staff member Roberto Ayala, helped spark an ugly confrontation. Nahuel Molina squared up to Rodri, while Leandro Paredes, Thiago Almada shoved Gavi to the ground, and Ayala seemed to have thrown a punch at Dani Olmo. Even after Spain had comfortably been the better side, Argentina still seemed determined to win something, if not the match, then at least the altercation.
It was as though this Argentina side arrived at the final carrying with them the full curriculum from football's university of dark arts.
Even after Spain had afforded Argentina the respect of a guard of honour during the presentation ceremony, several Argentina players declined to return the gesture, turning their backs on the newly crowned world champions almost immediately. And this all came in just the final.
Afterwards, Enzo Fernandez, who had already been sent off after receiving a second yellow card following a heavy tackle, insisted Argentina had represented their country in the best possible way.
"As time goes by, you realise there is something much bigger than just a result. For years, this group has represented the team in the best possible way... It has been a privilege to be part of a group that always stepped up, competed at the highest level, and defended these colours with pride, humility and commitment," the Chelsea midfielder said.
The contrast, however, could hardly have been sharper. Moments earlier, Spain goalkeeper Unai Simon had wandered from one dejected Argentina player to another, shaking hands and offering words of consolation despite the Albiceleste having instigated the post-match confrontation. It was a gesture worlds apart from Argentina goalkeeper Emiliano Martinez, who famously mocked France forward Kylian Mbappe after the 2022 World Cup by leading a dressing-room chant and later carrying a baby doll bearing Mbappe's face during Argentina's open-top victory parade -- all while standing beside Messi, Mbappe's teammate and captain at PSG.
It was, in many ways, simply an extension of how Argentina had conducted themselves throughout the previous six weeks.
No team committed more fouls than the Albiceleste during the tournament. They finished the World Cup with 113 fouls, one red card and 13 yellow cards. The final itself perfectly encapsulated that contrast. Argentina collected six yellow cards and a red, while Spain completed more than two hours of football without receiving a single booking.
Argentina had spent the tournament backing themselves to overcome every obstacle through confrontation and sheer belligerence as much as football. The final ultimately became the perfect sporting irony. Spain's commitment to possession, movement and technical football quietly dismantled Argentina's adherence to anti-football measures. For all of Argentina's physicality, they failed to register a single shot on target across 120 minutes.
Yet, remarkably, the narrative that emerged afterwards was not one of introspection.
"Today, I look at how many people were waiting for this fall, spreading baseless conspiracy theories throughout the World Cup just to soothe their own pain at not being able to experience what we Argentines were living through because our smiles bother them, because our ways get under their skin," midfielder Rodrigo De Paul wrote on Instagram.
It neatly captured a recurring theme that had surrounded Argentina throughout the tournament.
Why, then, did so much of the football world appear to turn against Messi and company?
Argentina incorporated political messaging into their celebrations after the semifinal victory over England without sanction. They also benefited from several contentious refereeing decisions throughout the tournament, ranging from midfield fouls to major VAR interventions, navigated the easiest bracket based on average FIFA rankings, and saw multiple opponents lodge official complaints over refereeing after facing them.
However, none of that diminishes what Argentina achieved on the pitch.
Messi once again produced incredible moments that only Messi can. Argentina produced memorable comebacks, repeatedly escaped seemingly impossible situations and once again demonstrated why they are the masters of survival. Their resilience carried them all the way to another World Cup final. But those moments existed alongside another identity that gradually became impossible to ignore.
For every unforgettable comeback came another needless confrontation. For every moment of brilliance came another attempt to provoke, intimidate or blur football's boundaries. They had increasingly developed a reputation for being a team of incessant irritants.
Nor was that perception confined solely to the pitch. According to multiple reports and videos circulated widely on social media appeared to show confrontations involving some Argentina supporters of engaging in violent behaviour during matches against Egypt and Cape Verde. Egyptian supporters alleged that Argentina fans attacked them and threw beer in their direction, while Cape Verdean supporters accused them of throwing bottles during the match.
Then came another controversy. American streamer IShowSpeed, attending the World Cup as part of FIFA's content partnership with Fox Sports and YouTube, alleged he was racially abused by an Argentina supporter during the match against Cape Verde. During his livestream, an Argentina fan leaning over the barrier shouted at him in Spanish to "go cry at the zoo" -- an allegation that drew widespread condemnation online.
These incidents did not emerge out of nowhere. Argentina's football culture has wrestled with similar controversies before.
Following their victory over France in the 2022 World Cup final, Argentina players were widely criticised for chanting racist and homophobic songs targeting members of the French squad. Two years later, Enzo again found himself at the centre of controversy after broadcasting an Instagram Live video showing himself and teammates singing discriminatory chants mocking France's players' African heritage while also containing homophobic slurs.
Taken individually, each incident may have its own context and explanation. Together, they begin to form a pattern. When a team repeatedly benefits from fortune, embraces football's darker arts, becomes involved in recurring controversy both on and off the pitch, and still presents itself as uniquely persecuted, it makes it increasingly difficult to sustain the image of Argentina as football's perpetual victim.
Argentina are three-time world champions, with a football culture built upon deep-rooted mythology. Few nations have intertwined identity and football quite like they have. Their story has been shaped by extraordinary individuals, none more influential than Diego Maradona -- one of the greatest players the sport has ever produced and also one of its most polarising figures.
Maradona gave Argentina perhaps its most defiant sporting myth when he led the country to the 1986 World Cup. His two goals against England in the quarterfinals – the infamous Hand of God and the mesmerising solo run later voted the Goal of the Century -- remain central to Argentina's football identity. One embodied cunning and a rebellious spirit, the other an unmatched brilliance. Together, they became symbols of how Argentina often saw itself; gifted, defiant and always up against larger forces.
Messi gave Argentina a different kind of icon to Maradona -- quieter, a more subdued personality who lets football speak louder than personality. Yet his influence became even greater. There is little, if any, doubt that Messi is the greatest player ever to lace a pair of boots. He has won virtually every major honour the game offers. His football has settled almost every meaningful debate. His numbers are extraordinary. His longevity is unmatched. His influence has shaped an entire generation.
Success, inevitably, also brought scrutiny. His rivalry with Cristiano Ronaldo divided modern football into two camps and, over time, some supporters understandably grew weary of football increasingly revolving around one individual and, by extension, Argentina. During this World Cup, that emotional investment appeared to evolve into something even stronger, with sections of Argentina's support embracing an almost cult-like "us against the world" mentality.
Social psychologists describe this as collective victimhood -- a group's shared belief that it has been unfairly targeted or mistreated. Whether or not that belief fully reflects reality, it can gradually become part of the group's identity, strengthening internal solidarity and creating an increasingly rigid divide between those inside the group and everyone outside it.
That pattern often seemed visible throughout Argentina's campaign. The narrative gradually evolved into familiar refrains: the media are against Argentina; Europe is against Argentina; everyone is jealous of Messi; everyone wants Argentina to fail. Yet throughout much of the tournament Argentina kept winning.
Eventually, disagreement itself became a form of betrayal. Either you bought into the Argentine narrative or your opinion ceased to matter. Question a favourable refereeing decision and you were accused of hating football. Mention VAR controversy and you were told you were attacking Messi's legacy. Suggest another player deserved equal praise and suddenly you "didn't understand greatness."
Argentina have gone from enduring nearly three decades without a major trophy to becoming one of international football's defining teams over the past five years. Since ending their drought by winning the 2021 Copa America, they have lifted the Finalissima, won the 2022 World Cup, retained the Copa America in 2024 and reached another World Cup final.
Spend enough time inside the Argentina social media bubble, however, and one begins to suspect they are somehow also football's most persecuted nation.
That may be the most fascinating contradiction of all. Argentina are simultaneously presented as the sport's dominant force and its greatest victim. The belief that everyone is against them persists even as they continue collecting silverware.
Football has seen dynasties before. Spain dominated Europe and the world between 2008 and 2012 with a style that reshaped the modern game. France have spent much of the past two decades reaching the latter stages of major tournaments. Germany have remained a constant force across generations.
Great teams have always existed. Few, however, have cultivated quite the same insistence that sustained success and universal persecution can comfortably coexist.
Spain, for instance, rarely framed themselves as football's great victims while winning. Their dominance largely spoke for itself. Argentina's modern discourse often appears to combine two ideas that sit uneasily beside one another: We are the best team in football and everyone is trying to stop us.
Perhaps that is why Argentina's 2026 World Cup campaign became so consumed by controversy. Across the tournament, refereeing decisions often generated as many headlines as Argentina's remarkable comebacks.
Every successful team benefits from fortunate moments over the course of a tournament. Argentina certainly did. The issue is not receiving them. The issue is pretending they never happened while simultaneously insisting the world is conspiring against you.
Victims are rarely favourites. Victims are rarely the team everyone fears. Yet by the end of this World Cup, Argentina had somehow come to embody both.
