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The 23-man shortlist for the coveted Ballon d’Or award was revealed a while ago, and the general sentiment elicited by it was widespread apathy. The schmaltzy extravaganza that is the Ballon d’Or ceremony is supposed to be a night of glorious unpredictability, as a host of footballing all-stars jostle to get their hands on the elusive golden prize.
But as has been the case in the past few years, the element of uncertainty and capriciousness that is central to the ceremony is missing – replaced instead by a single, climacteric question: Lionel Messi or Cristiano Ronaldo?
It is undeniably the most widely debated and comprehensively divisive rivalry in modern football, the premise of innumerable vitriolic arguments, and the crux of incessant chirping on Twitter and countless posts on Facebook. While many may scoff at it or feign indifference, it is nigh-on impossible to be interested in football and not get captivated by the epic tug-of-war that is Messi-Ronaldo.
And while it may lack the element of impassioned loathing and mutual disdain that was central to other famous contests like Senna-Prost, Ali-Frazier and Borg-McEnroe, the sheer reputational stake and lust to be unequivocally recognized as the best of an era ensures that it fits snugly into the pantheon of historic sporting rivalries.
Ronaldo – The ideal modern day No.7
With his burnished, flawlessly chiseled physique, perfectly pomaded hair coiffed back with dollops of hair gel that probably cost more than the gross domestic product of a small African nation, and strikingly good looks perpetually adorned by a cocky smirk, Ronaldo is as close to the human embodiment of a Lamborghini as you can get.
His slavish dedication to success has facilitated his mercurial rise from a gangly teenager in Madeira to the talismanic figurehead of Real Madrid, providing the cutting edge to a team replete with world-class stars. Tall, a good header of the ball, and blessed with a thunderous strike, he epitomizes the modern day number 7.
While his days in Manchester were synonymous with slaloming runs interspersed with an almost masturbatory embroidery of step-overs and dribbles, his style of play has matured since his move to Real Madrid.
His positioning and finishing has improved by leaps and bounds, and a more clinical approach has seen him grow into an immensely potent and lethal attacking threat. The needless trickery has been eliminated and replaced by a more refined directness, best characterized by his frequent imperious running at defenders, neck muscles flaring, with a fearlessness and cocksure intensity that mocks and accosts them and seems to say, “Do your best. You still won’t be able to stop me”.
This is a gorgeously egotistical footballer whose narcissistic behavior both on and off the pitch is deeply entrenched in a supreme confidence borne out of the belief that he is better than everyone else; an attribute that is made even more annoying by the knowledge that he probably is right.
Messi – A magician with the ball at his feet
On the other hand, Messi is the perfect antipode of the Portugal ace. His appearance on the pitch bears a keen resemblance to an unassuming, guileless child who has accidentally wandered onto the pitch and only just happens to be a genius with the ball at his feet.
Physically unintimidating, short, sans any bulging muscles, and possessing a complete disregard for preening, he is the ultimate antithesis of the quintessential modern footballer; which is perhaps what makes his phenomenal skill on the ball all the more noteworthy. His movement is mesmeric, his play awash with feints and shimmies that nonplus defenders all over the world. His first touch could melt butter, and his lateral passing is exquisite.
With the ball tethered to his feet with the adhesive force of a magnet, he swerves and runs with the seductively balletic grace of a magical sprite that makes the gait of every other player on the field seem like an awkward balter, inflicting his special brand of gentle violence on the opposition, making genuinely world-class players look like amateurs.
It is an aesthetically pleasing style that blends seamlessly with Barcelona’s possession fetish and is best exemplified by his decisive second goal against Bayern Munich in the semi-finals of the 2014/15 Champions League.
Receiving the ball from Ivan Rakitic, he casually jogged into the penalty area, singing a hypnotic lullaby with his feet that left Jerome Boateng lying gently on his back, before floating the ball like a soap bubble over the head of Manuel Neuer in a finish that scaled all heights with its nonchalant brilliance.
He is the goody two-shoes poster boy of football, always maintaining a saint-like humility that is pervasive in his entire existence. Constantly delegating all praise to his teammates, never betraying too much emotion on the field or going over the top with his celebrations, he seems to possess a ubiquitous niceness that is almost sycophantic.
Ronaldo and Messi complement and push each other
Would Messi have had that magisterial 2011/12 season, consistently conjuring his trademark magic and scoring 91 goals in a calendar year, if Ronaldo hadn’t been at his neck the whole time, threatening to dethrone him?
And would Ronaldo ever have reached the heights that he did in that magical period from 2012 to 2014, terrorizing opposition defences and annihilating entire teams, racking up two successive Ballon d’Ors in the process if Messi hadn’t been there to punish even the slightest hint of complacency by leaving him behind in his slipstream?
These are two devastatingly effective athletes at their simultaneous peak who pointedly contrast each other in every single course of life, right from the club they play for, to the brands they endorse. They complement each other perfectly and push each other to unimaginable levels, regularly serving us reminders that football is an art, rather than a science.
Heroes for both club and country, these are two sinuous dribblers whose individuality comes as a breath of fresh air and is almost paradoxical in today’s age of logarithms, statistics and formations. They are players so far ahead of the rest of the pack that when the topic of the world’s best player arises even a mere mention of any other player’s name is considered blasphemy.
They are players who make hat-tricks seem run-of-the-mill. Players whose goals often get overlooked not because of their obscurity but because of the overwhelming statistical overload of their brilliance.
To perceive this rivalry as anything other than a piece of spectacularly good sporting fortune would be to reach a level of entitlement that will sink in only after a decade or so when both Ronaldo and Messi will have retired. Records will regain their significance and will no longer be blown away every few games.
Hat-tricks will revert to being highlights of a player’s season rather than a weekly expectation; 50 goal seasons will again become myths, and we will go back to standard-issue Baggios and Figos collecting Ballon d’Ors after having seasons that would have been deemed sub-par by Messi and Ronaldo standards.
Until that day arrives, the best thing one can do is sit back, and keep purring with pure sporting joy at the sheer quality of football on display courtesy of, arguably, the two most complete personas to have ever graced the beautiful game.
