Cristiano Ronaldo’s first goal from open play for five years at a major tournament took the unmistakable shape of a bicep flex. Uzbekistan were not the only victims muscled to the ground.
Even Roy Keane, ordinarily an industry leader at pissing on the parade, was lost in the euphoric mist: “He’s back? He has never been away. Come on. He’s Ronaldo for goodness’ sake.”
You’d think Ronaldo had prised open France, Spain or Brazil to lift the World Cup, not sploshed a lightweight in sparring. Sit down Lionel Messi. Calm yourself Kylian Mbappe. And as for you, Erling Haaland, stick to rowing imaginary boats.
In the hyperbolic embrace of main character energy, are we not guilty of attaching too much significance to the early contributions of the tournament’s big-ticket items. The reaction to Ronaldo’s double suggests context is for miserable bastards.
This World Cup will produce contests of real meaning and magic but hardly in this confected group stage, which is more about advancing Fifa’s coffers than the interests of the global game.
