EDITORIAL
A nation cannot expect its sporting legends to remain indispensable forever
Cristiano Ronaldo spent two decades carrying Portugal. Now, as his career approaches its end, the country faces a question bigger than whether its captain should start or sit on the bench: how does a nation treat the man who once carried its hopes?
The 41-year-old’s dispute with coach Jorge Jesus, his departure from the national camp and his subsequent public statement have turned what should have been the closing chapter of an extraordinary international career into an uncomfortable spectacle. Portugal has initiated disciplinary proceedings, while Ronaldo has apologised for leaving his teammates and acknowledged that he must face the consequences.
There are legitimate questions about his conduct. No player, however decorated, can place himself above the team. Portugal’s victories in his absence, coupled with Gonçalo Ramos scoring three goals during the international window, have also shown that the side has attacking options beyond its veteran captain. But results alone cannot settle the question of what Ronaldo means to Portugal.
The contrast with Lionel Messi is striking. Argentina once questioned Messi’s commitment and watched him briefly retire from international football in 2016 after a series of disappointments. He returned, won major honours and eventually lifted the World Cup in 2022. His farewell has since been marked by national celebration. The difference is not simply that Messi won the argument on the pitch. Argentina’s relationship with its greatest player evolved through failure, criticism and redemption.
India offers another lesson. Sachin Tendulkar carried the expectations of a cricket-mad nation for years, often with the burden of winning matches resting heavily on him. When India won the 2011 World Cup, Virat Kohli said it was time for the team to carry Tendulkar on its shoulders. The image became a fitting tribute to a career in which individual greatness had long been accompanied by collective expectation.
Tendulkar did not win that World Cup alone. Nor did Messi win the World Cup alone. Their teams gave them support, while other players delivered when it mattered. That is the point: a sporting icon should not have to carry a nation indefinitely, and a nation should not expect its icon to remain indispensable forever.
Ronaldo’s case is complicated by his own public insistence on his greatness. The confidence that helped drive him to extraordinary heights can look like entitlement when his place is questioned. His grievance may have merit, but airing it in a lengthy public statement risks making a dispute over selection appear to be a contest over status. A legend is entitled to respect, not immunity from criticism.
Yet there is another tendency worth examining. Audiences often build sporting heroes into symbols of national pride, then take satisfaction when those heroes stumble. Psychology calls the pleasure derived from another’s misfortune schadenfreude. Criticism is necessary when a player puts personal interests above the team. Enjoying his humiliation is something else. Ronaldo’s mistakes should not erase what he gave Portugal, just as his achievements should not excuse his mistakes.
What would happen if a Goan footballer who had carried his club for years began to decline? Would we give him time, help him adapt and recognise his contribution, or dismiss him the moment a younger player offered more? Indian sport is familiar with both loyalty and impatience. Our treatment of ageing footballers, in particular, deserves the same scrutiny we apply to international icons.
Portugal must protect the team’s interests and apply its rules fairly. Ronaldo must accept that his record cannot guarantee his place. Neither side needs to diminish the other.
The measure of a sporting culture is not how loudly it celebrates its heroes at their peak, but how fairly it treats them when they can no longer be what they once were. And the measure of a legend may be whether he can accept that the team must eventually move on.
