Cristiano Ronaldo's Last Supper wasn't in Oslo

If Jorge Jesus wanted to stamp his authority over Cristiano Ronaldo, he could not have asked for a better opportunity than Sunday night.

Following four straight victories and, above all, the joy of seeing the national team play with such flair again, few are calling for Ronaldo's return beyond a proper farewell match. Nobody wants Jesus out.

Contrary to the popular adage, football is not solely about results. The enduring emotion felt on the night of the defeat in the Euro 2004 final proves that sentiment.

Supporters want football they can feel proud of: brave, ambitious, and high-quality. If that brings silverware, like in 2016, even better.

What remains unbearable is the tepid, lifeless lethargy of the last World Cup—sluggish performances where Portugal could not even overcome DR Congo.

When Jesus was appointed, the hope was to see Portugal playing a brand of football the entire world would admire. Four matches in, belief has been firmly restored.

Winning the 2030 World Cup would bring unreserved joy and immortalise everyone involved. The odds may be slim, but they are not zero—and under Jorge Jesus, they have grown. The manager was the weak link in 2026; he will be the team's greatest strength in 2030.

Jesus knows he is judged by ten million Portuguese fans alone; the rest of the world does not hold Portugal as their primary team. Ronaldo, however, operates under entirely different global scrutiny.

Jesus also understands better than most that gratitude can prove fatal for a coach. Stalin's harsh maxim—that gratitude is a disease of dogs—captures a brutal footballing truth: only results matter. For Jesus, winning is everything.

Had he lacked self-confidence or possessed a weaker personality, after four wins and feeling the backing of the Portuguese public, Sunday's press conference might have sounded very different: I came, I saw, I conquered. Cristiano is finished.

Yet he chose a different path.

At Benfica, when Óscar Cardozo confronted him aggressively after the Portuguese Cup final, Jesus chose forgiveness. The following season, he swept all three domestic trophies and reached the Europa League final.

An insecure manager would have turned that confrontation into a matter of pride and authority. Jesus preferred to recover the player and keep on winning.

As for Ronaldo's statement, I did not read it to the end, but I disliked what I saw. It was far too long, much like his 40-minute warm-up.

Ronaldo's personality comes as no surprise. His flaws did not appear overnight, nor does his monumental legacy vanish over a single misstep.

Pedro Proença could have played Pontius Pilate—washing his hands of the matter and leaving the final verdict to the crowd. Jesus or Ronaldo? Today, that choice would be obvious. Instead, he is seeking an institutional solution.

Tactical decisions belong to the manager; any potential disciplinary breach requires establishing the facts while respecting the Portuguese Football Federation's remit. Ronaldo claimed he spoke to Proença before departing the training camp. Finding out what was said matters far more than condemning first and asking questions later.

What would a sanction actually achieve? Another week of global debate, millions divided, the national team turned into a battleground, and Portugal dragged through the mud across the world?

Many of those demanding a punishment today would be the first to complain once it was handed down. Rather than closing the chapter, a ban would only fuel the storm.

Behind closed doors on the training pitch, doing 20 push-ups to the sound of his teammates' laughter and picking up the bill for lunch—would that not be a balanced, sensible resolution?

A quote attributed to an ancient Roman general describes the peoples of Hispania as neither governing themselves nor allowing themselves to be governed. Its origin may be uncertain, but the portrait remains strikingly accurate.

Whenever a problem arises, our default response is to search for scapegoats rather than invest time in finding constructive solutions.

With Ronaldo, we have suddenly taken issue with traits that were always there. His character has not changed; what has changed is the willingness to criticise him. Goals no longer guarantee him immunity.

Now that he is at his most vulnerable, he needs—and deserves—our support. Not to excuse his mistakes, but because he has brought so much pride and joy to Portugal over the years.

I admire him deeply, yet I believe he should no longer feature for the national team. There is no contradiction in that. If Jesus believes Ronaldo can help win the Nations League, I trust his judgement—not because of Ronaldo, but because of Jesus.

A tribute to Ronaldo should not be reduced to a 90-minute match, nor should it happen prematurely. It must be planned thoughtfully and reserved for when he officially hangs up his boots.

Ancient Rome knew how to honour its victorious generals during their lifetime. It did not stage a final fight in the Colosseum; it opened the city streets for the masses to acclaim them. Why restrict the tribute to the most famous Portuguese figure in history to just 50,000 spectators inside a stadium?

Ronaldo has been far more pivotal to Portugal than Lionel Messi was to Argentina. Before Messi, Argentina had already lifted two World Cups and boasted Diego Maradona, who rivalled Pelé for the status of the greatest of all time.

Ronaldo took the nation's name to every corner of the globe and elevated the self-esteem of entire generations. Five centuries ago, Portuguese navigators opened up new worlds to Europe; in his era, Ronaldo introduced Portugal to the world.

During a Roman triumph celebrating a general's victories, tradition dictated that an aide hold a laurel wreath over his head while whispering into his ear that he was merely mortal, not a god.

Honouring someone never required perfection; it simply ensured that even at the height of their consecration, they remained grounded and remembered they were only human.

Ronaldo will forever remain immortal in football history, but he is human. His greatness does not erase his errors, nor do his errors diminish everything he gave to his country.

Ronaldo does not need a Last Supper in Oslo, nor a hasty, improvised farewell.

When the time comes, let Portugal celebrate him in the streets, just as Rome did with its generals: honouring the extraordinary, without forgetting the man.