Messi (82 page)

(Extract from a conversation between tennis players Chris Evert (America’s sweetheart) and Martina Navratilova (poker-faced Czech-born player) in a fascinating ESPN documentary,
Unmatched
)

Maybe Ronaldo and Leo will one day have the chance to spend a weekend together as Evert and Navratilova did at the request of ESPN. It would be fascinating to hear the conversation between these two giants, admitting both their admiration for and rage against their nemesis. ‘Messi and his poetry should not take anything
away from another chosen one, Cristiano Ronaldo, a sublime player who also defines an era,’ as journalist José Sámano puts it.

One is tall, good-looking, with a powerful shot, a sprinter’s acceleration. The other is small, a dribbler with any number of roles on the pitch; he can be a goalscorer, passer or organiser. Both play for teams that have been constructed to play to their particular strengths. Both have humble origins. Leo does not need external recognition as much as Ronaldo, merely acceptance. The Argentinian has a small posse of protectors, whereas various companies revolve around the Portuguese, looking after his money and his image.

Cristiano exemplifies the stereotypical world-class player we’re now so used to seeing: he woos the paparazzi, lives the lifestyle of a Hollywood actor. Messi is the polar opposite, perhaps the first star who just wants to be a footballer. Leo knows that he could have a supermodel by his side, but he prefers his friend’s cousin, Antonella, whom he grew up with.

But that is the superficial vision upon which the media feeds. The reality is that they both have as much in common as separates them: they have the same competitive spirit; they have both sacrificed their lives to achieve their dreams. They both share some fundamentals: kicks from opponents, various demands on them, the deep desire to win, the pain of defeat. They appreciate, seek and desire the collective title, but they also want the individual one, and the goals.

Tell me if this story sounds familiar.

Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santo Aveiro was born in February 1985 on the island of Madeira, the fourth child of María Dolores, cook, and José Dinis, gardener, a family with financial difficulties. Not only did José love football, but it was part of his world as a kitman at Andorinha, the village team. Cristiano lived with a ball at his feet and, when he did not have a leather one, he would make himself one out of anything that was lying around. Sporting Lisbon signed him and he left Madeira for the first time in his life at the age of 12. At the club residence they laughed at his Madeira accent, which in Lisbon was considered a poor boy’s accent. In one season alone he played at five different levels at Sporting, including the first team.

Cristiano, whose dad passed away in 2006, speaks of Sir Alex Ferguson, his manager at Manchester United, as a second father. Leo has Jorge as a manager and father, two roles which are difficult
to combine. Ronaldo’s mother mixes her maternal role with that of confidante and protector, and is always ready to help care for her bachelor son’s child. Messi’s older brother, Rodrigo, often acts as his father. Both men therefore share the same circumstances of close family ties and the presence of trusted confidants, together with the varied and often interchangeable roles that these people are required to adopt.

Both have children, which has been character changing and has matured them. Both have consulted a psychologist at different times in their careers, although each has responded in a different way: Leo did not think it was of much use, whereas Ronaldo has had one at Real Madrid for the past few years now in an effort to change his public image and to help him control his emotions better. And both have fantasised about their futures since they were very young: each told himself that he was going to be the best, as if it were written in the stars.

In 2009, the German magazine
Der Spiegel
confirmed that Ronaldo was the ‘fastest footballer on the planet’, the result of an extraordinary ‘fine tuning of a high output motor’: he regularly does 3,000 sit-ups, he systematically gets eight hours’ sleep every night and has extraordinary mental strength. His thousands of hours with the ball allow him to make decisions unconsciously and to know the permutations of the game without thinking: he dribbles at full speed looking at his adversary’s feet (he can dribble around 13 cones in eight seconds); he anticipates opponents’ presence, the amount of available and necessary space; and he senses where the ball is going to fall even in darkness, as he demonstrated in a filmed exercise in which he was asked to shoot with the light switched off just as a cross was put in.

He scored on both occasions: his reaction time was 300 milliseconds. He even scored when the shot left the foot of the crosser after the lights were off. His shot, the famous Tomahawk that sees the ball rise and fall like a missile, is the consequence of practising 25 to 30 free-kicks every day.

But the world has decided that one is the villain, arrogant, stuck-up; that the other is the tireless worker, modest. That is how they are often described in the Latin world anyway. CR7 (Cristiano Ronaldo and his shirt number) often shows his feelings and that is why
opposition fans try to put him off with shouts of ‘Messi, Messi’, whereas Leo keeps his emotions under control most of the time. People feed on rivalries such as this one, and the fact that Ronaldo encourages the comparison does him no favours. But he cannot help it: it is the tragedy of those who are one step behind, yet, in their own way, equally extraordinary.

Four years after arriving at Real Madrid,
merengue
fans are still not clear about who Cristiano really is. ‘People think his life is made up of an undefined succession of daily crises,’ writes Diego Torres. ‘In reality, they do not know that, apart from when his competitive streak gets the better of him, he is a simple lad, educated, noble, respectful of his opponents, and grateful to be able to live in a city that he appreciates.’

In a memorable scene from the film
Rush
, the story of the rivalry between James Hunt and Nikki Lauda, the then recently married Austrian F1 racing driver admits: ‘Happiness is the enemy, it weakens you, suddenly you have something to lose’, and that ‘having an enemy is a blessing’. The following is no coincidence: on 28 January 2013, Ronaldo celebrated three goals against Getafe. A few hours later, at the Camp Nou, Messi scored four against Osasuna. ‘The level they demand from themselves varies and increases as the enemy’s achievements increase,’ the writer and physical coach Pedro Gómez writes for this book. ‘Thinking small makes us grow only a little. If the level we demand from ourselves is not stimulated daily, we stop evolving. If one of them didn’t exist, the other would be satisfied
with being top scorer with twenty-five goals.’ One makes the other better, just as used to be the case with Navratilova and Evert.

But the general perception at the moment is that Messi is one step ahead of Ronaldo. In the time they have been Madrid and Barcelona players (since 2009), Barcelona have won 15 titles, Madrid three. Messi has won four Ballons d’Or, Ronaldo one; Messi also wins the Golden Boot battle as the top scorer in Europe, 3–1. And according to a publication by the FIFA CIES Football Observatory, Leo Messi’s market value is €250 million, while Ronaldo’s is between €102.2 and €118.7 million.

Ronaldo suffers more from the comparison: it must be so painful to be second despite all that effort, sacrifice, ambition and talent. And Messi is something of an obsession for the Portuguese player: he is his point of reference. He demands his club treat him as Barcelona treats Leo, and that they give him the same affection.

For as long as they are in competition their relationship will be marked by their battle for the same space, that small, distant space in which the truly greats live. But how do they get on? What do they say to each other when they meet? And when they are not in the spotlight?

At the 2013 Ballon d’Or gala, Ruud Gullit thought he noticed ‘a strange relationship between Cristiano and Messi; they barely say hello to one another’. The relationship, in the presence of others, is cold. It is not bad; it is respectful but distant. They do not hate each other, as some people might believe, say the families of both. Conversation does not usually go beyond ‘hello, how are you, everything okay?’ At public events, Messi is always surrounded by his own crew, or with Xavi and Iniesta, whereas Ronaldo usually shows up on his own, even though mixing with people he does not know intimidates him.

And it is difficult to break the ice when they see each other in private. In September 2012 the UEFA player of the season was selected. Iniesta, Messi and Ronaldo were waiting in a private room before going onstage. Nobody else was present. According to
El Mundo
, one of the three took the first step. Cristiano looked at Leo and asked him about his summer and about recent matches. Messi answered him and Iniesta brought himself into the conversation, which ended up being friendly and football-related. The two
blaugranas
were surprised to see such a warm Ronaldo for the first time, and this at the height of the José Mourinho era.

Diego Torres relates an anecdote that confirms the two stars’ diplomacy in his book
Prepárense para perder
(‘Prepare for Defeat’). It happened at the Ballon d’Or 2012, the day Real Madrid President Florentino Pérez feared for the first time, according to Torres, that Ronaldo could end up at Barcelona. Andrés Iniesta, Pep Guardiola and Vicente del Bosque were witnesses to the following:

‘On 7 January 2013, the president found himself in an isolated corner of a hall in the Kongresshaus Zürich, keeping an eye on Messi while he was being interviewed on television. Cristiano suddenly appeared at the other side of the hall. Then, exactly what the president had feared occurred. Messi called him over, Cristiano went, and they hugged just like children. Pérez confessed to his friends that he watched the scene in anguish. He felt danger. He could visualise everything. Cristiano would be free in January 2015 and then any club, Barcelona included, would be able to sign him without negotiating with Real Madrid.’

One year earlier, Ronaldo had gone to Pérez’s office at the Bernabéu to express his indignation at the club’s behaviour, the distance they showed him and the slowness of his contract renewal negotiations. The player threatened to leave Madrid. ‘If it’s a question of money, I’ll come back tomorrow with a hundred million euros,’ Ronaldo told the president. Florentino retorted: ‘It’s not a hundred, your release clause is €1 billion … If you want to go, bring me the money to sign Messi.’

They are not friends but they are polite to one another in public; anything else, those who are close to them insist, is all media-generated.

Messi admires Cristiano’s shooting and heading ability but is tired of comparisons between the two of them. He understands that Ronaldo is not comfortable about it either, and has watched without the slightest pleasure his supposed arch-enemy responding with anger to the public pestering from those who like to see them fighting. Ronaldo, who will take part in a commercial with Leo for the first time to promote the Google Nexus 11 tablet, does not think that they can be compared: ‘Messi and I are as different as Ferrari and Porsche.’

Ronaldo, perhaps as a symptom of the immaturity that marks so many footballers, thinks it necessary to put on a brave face in front of his team-mates, not be scared of Messi and to rise to the challenge. All very macho; all very false. And that is why, according to some Real Madrid players, CR7 has a nickname for him: ‘motherfucker’; and if he sees someone from the club speaking to Leo, he also ends up being baptised ‘motherfucker’. In that environment, Ronaldo usually compares their relationship with that between the republic of Ireland and the United Kingdom. And the Madrid players, with their less than subtle dressing-room sense of humour, have a long list of jokes that include Messi as Ronaldo’s dog or puppet, or kept in a designer handbag belonging to the Portuguese player. And much worse.

Ronaldo fits the Real Madrid business plan and their search for
galácticos
. Messi fits the more romantic image that Barcelona portrays. That is why Barça cannot imagine selling their flagship footballer: if the club behaved like a business, Leo would be sold at his peak, when the highest transfer fee could be obtained. If a romantic idea is followed, Messi will not be allowed to leave until he decides to go to Newell’s, on his last legs.

Ronaldo was offered to Barcelona by his agent Jorge Mendes before he signed for Manchester United, and in 2010, when already at Madrid, he said, ‘you can never say never, you never know what might happen in the future’. Can you imagine Messi and Ronaldo together? Impossible now that both clubs have made sure that both their wages reflect their top-billing, and their contracts have recently taken, or are about to take, a historic leap. Ronaldo renewed his in September 2013 and now receives €21 million net. Barcelona are negotiating Messi’s and the aim is to announce a renewal in December, ten months after the last one. Leo could earn, including bonuses, €23 million net.

‘Both are really good,’ says former Argentina coach Carlos Bilardo. ‘Messi comes at you and you don’t know where he’s going, this way or that way. However, football people know in which direction Ronaldo is shooting. Messi is the best by far.’

‘It is dreadfully bad luck for Cristiano to coincide with Messi,’ believes the Brazilian Ronaldo. ‘The two of them are far superior to the rest, although for me Messi is slightly better.’