I was a casual watcher of the 2026 World Cup. Before that, the last time I spent any significant amount of time thinking about football was probably 2010. My husband and I were on our honeymoon in Mexico that July, and I still vividly remember us watching some of the televised WC games at our resort, with a mixed audience of people from all over the world. I donāt think we watched the final there ā though, funnily enough, Spain won that year too.
This time around, I did get sucked into the online popular discourse around the World Cup, especially towards the end. The Haaland/Bellingham cuts were fun and cute, and once I watched a few, my IG algorithm decided that I needed to be served football content 24/7. Eventually, I ended up going down several rabbit holes, the most enjoyable of which was revisiting the highlights of 2000s football (my fave era, along with the 90s). But, as promised, this is not a post about my old football crushes or other nostalgic memories from my football fan days. This World Cup and the discourse it generated (or indirectly pushed to my attention via social media) gave me the opportunity to reflect on some broader ideas.
Because Iāve not been plugged into the football world for 16+ years, I hadnāt realized that Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi ā players I remember from back in the day ā are (a) still playing, and (b) still dominating a lot of the discourse. The GOAT debate is so silly to me; āthe bestā is a fundamentally subjective determination, so I fail to see the point of trying to achieve universal consensus. But I saw a clip of an interview with a Mexican player who was asked about it, and his response gave me a lot of food for thought.
To paraphrase, he basically said that Messi and Ronaldo represent two stories, and your answer to the question āwhoās the GOATā will depend on which story resonates the most with you. Messi represents the story of a natural prodigy, someone born with a generational talent that automatically gives him an edge over his peers. Thatās not to say that Messi didnāt have to work hard, or that he would have achieved the same accomplishments without effort and dedication. On the other side, Ronaldo represents the story of success through discipline, determination, and drive. Again, thatās not to say that Ronaldo wasnāt naturally talented to begin with ā only that what set him apart from other great players, in the end, was his commitment to discipline and single-minded focus. And his confidence in his own ability to succeed thanks to that discipline and focus.
There is something to admire in both stories, and which one resonates more is, ultimately, a very personal thing. My first āa haā moment was realizing that the Ronaldo story is what speaks to me the most. And thatās because discipline and commitment is what has helped me achieve my own ambitions in life and, as such, it is what I value the most. [Of course, I am not comparing myself to football superstars, lol!]
My second āa haā moment was realizing that this subtext is (at least in part) why Ronaldo is such a polarizing figure. He is often called arrogant for what, to me, seems to be the fact that he is not shy about talking about his success and the source of that success (his belief in himself and his work ethic). But is that arrogance? I donāt think anyone disputes the underlying truth of Ronaldoās statements; his achievements are incontestable, as is his dedication and work ethic. Yet, him openly acknowledging those things rubs some people the wrong way.
I have sympathy for Ronaldo because, in my experience, society is slow to recognize or applause discipline. Natural talent is sexier, more awe-inspiring — perhaps easier to accept too, because it looks so much like random chance and luck. Discipline, on the other hand, can feel like something anyone can master. As such, it’s easier to discount and overlook. At the same time, it can provoke more complicated feelings, including resentment. In reality, discipline is bloody hard — and watching someone make it look easy can be triggering, for lack of a better word. So, I get why Ronaldo going on about his amazing discipline can grate on people’s nerves. On the flip side, I can also understand being frustrated with a lack of recognition at the difficulty of maintaining an insane level of disciplines for decades straight. If no one else is talking about it, you start talking about it.
Is that arrogance? Iāll let you decide for yourself. [No sarcasm intended, btw.]
Now, personally, I appreciate someone like Ronaldo talking about these things. Because itās an example to young people as to the life-changing value of self-confidence backed by discipline. Confidence alone doesnāt get results. But to persevere and maintain strict discipline ā year in, year out, no matter the setbacks along the way ā you need to believe in yourself. No one will ever believe in you more than you can. That belief is what carries a person through the heartbreak of disappointed hopes. And even the greatest of all time, in whatever field, will experience that heartbreak at some point.
To return to the World Cup now ā¦ I had another āa haā moment that ties into both the above conversation and the final game. And that was the realization that, for me, greatness comes with responsibility. The more talent, success, money, or fame you have, the greater the responsibility to be gracious and generous in your interactions with others. Not that I am here to advocate for the feudal system or anything, but there is something to be said for the concept of ānoblesse oblige.ā If you are one of lifeās favourites, there should never be a situation where, if someone goes low with you, you donāt still go high. Going high when someone goes low is an acknowledgment of (existing) superior privilege.
[And, no, I donāt believe that this idea ā always go high when others go low ā invariably applies. *cough* modern politics *cough*.]
Watching Messiās performance in the World Cup final, especially his attempt to have Cucurella sent off with a red card for touching his mouth for a split second (which, frankly, looked like he was blowing a kiss), dropped Messi a few notches in my estimation. For Messi ā an undisputed legend, GOAT contender, etc. ā to pull a move like that on a player nowhere near his level was the antithesis of grace. Iāve seen some people excuse Messiās behaviour on the basis that this was a high-pressure, difficult game, where tensions were running high. I donāt buy that excuse. As far as Iām concerned, how someone acts under pressure tells you more about their character than how they act when things are going their way. Pressure reveals the weaknesses that already exist, rather than creating them.
Nobodyās perfect, of course; in stressful situations, Iāve done things that didnāt reflect the standards I set for myself. So, Iām not going to say that Messi is a terrible person or anything like that. But his performance at this game did knock some of the shine off his reputation, at least for me. [It also seems worth pointing out that, to date, he has not expressed any regret for the Cucurella thing, which suggests that, with the benefit of his own hindsight as well as the public reception of the incident, he stands by his actions.]
These were all good learning/teaching moments that I was able to share with my kids, and get a conversation going, and also to use for self-reflection. Especially the part about grace (under pressure or otherwise). The older I get, and the more fortunate/privileged my circumstances become, the more important it feels for me to live up to certain standards in my interactions with others, especially those who are less privileged.
