Dear whoever you are,
Real Madrid have all but lost the league title, but I am still in the race for the Pichichi, so all is great at my end. The reason why I am writing this letter is simple: to state, once again because no number of time is enough, that I am superior to everyone — including God.
A couple of days ago, my teammates lost to Atletico Madrid at the Bernabeu. This one journalist had the audacity to ask me whether my level had gone down. I, with utmost humility and honesty, replied that if my team mates were at my level, we would be number 1 in the table.
Since people don’t like the truth, the PR team of Real Madrid wanted me to rephrase the statement to ‘physical fitness’, they begged me to do it, so I obliged. And this is why I write this letter, to tell that I didn’t only talk about physical fitness.
If we were talking about my physical fitness, then only God is my competitor, but even the Almighty stands like a candle in front of the Sun that I am in this regard.
As a player, there is not one like me. If you watched the last match closely, Karim Benzema used his first-touch to send two Atletico Madrid players the wrong way and was clear on goal with only the goalkeeper to beat. What did he do next? Normally, one would have attempted a shot. He didn’t.
Instead, he attempted a pass to me which was intercepted by an Atleti defender.
This shows how crap his level is that he had to rely on me to score the goal. In fact, he is not the only one who does that. Each and every one of my teammates relies on me for almost everything.
Need new hair gel? Ask Cristiano. Need new underwear? Come to Cristiano. Need advice on how to hit on a girl? Approach Cristiano. Need to score a goal? Pass to Cristiano.
The other day, during training, the guys were having trouble placing cones since we were short of one. I solved the problem within a minute by placing Arbeloa as the last cone and the training then began. Basically, without me, they are not fit to play even in the Sunday league games where most of the players are beer belly p**sheads.
Anyways, now that the league title is out of reach, there is a new objective which is exactly like the old one: play in such a way that I end up winning the Pichichi and Ballon d’Or this year. This also ends the endless rants in the dressing room that someone other than me should take free-kicks since winning games doesn’t matter anymore.
I can honestly say that if every player was at my level (which, for the record, is impossible since there can only be one Cristiano), then we would have actually won the league by now and would have gotten a guard of honour in every game.
Finally, I hear a lot of people saying that I can’t dribble anymore and that I can’t make an intelligent pass. To them, I say: **** off. I don’t do it because I don’t want to. A rich and great player like me shouldn’t have to waste my sweat by making dribbles to get past opponents or serve others by passing. That’s not my job. That’s the job of the inferior players around me. I am the king and they are my servants.
When it comes to me, nothing else matters. And nothing ever will.
Regards,
The greatest ever.
This article has been written in a light-hearted banter style and is NOT intended to hurt anyone.
