Respect Ronaldo and Believe in the National Team

Portugal's World Cup campaign kicked off with a disappointing draw against the Democratic Republic of Congo, a result that can't be sugar-coated or excused by referencing past struggles of eventual champions. The stalemate was particularly frustrating given how the team started, taking an early lead through João Neves, only to then let the game slip away. They lost their authority, playing a overly lateral game with ineffective ball possession in the final third.

While it's unreasonable to expect the Seleção to win every match with convincing performances, a team boasting such immense talent should demonstrate greater personality and competitive hunger in managing game situations. The weight of expectation demands it; the talent is undeniable, and the ambition was even set internally, with federation officials, for better or worse, launching a campaign promoting a final victory. This suggests a belief that success would be straightforward, when in reality, it's far more complex than the narrative fostered by their communications.

Analyzing that match, Portugal had possession, volume, and control, but lacked the crucial elements that differentiate mere control from assertive dominance: aggressive decision-making, incisive runs, quick ball movement, and a constant presence in the box. The disappointment wasn't just in the result; it stemmed from the uncomfortable feeling that Portugal allowed themselves to be lulled by their own talent, as if individual quality alone would suffice to solve what only concentration, intensity, collective spirit, and decisive individual actions can achieve.

However, once the match concluded, instead of discussing the team, the strategy, the response to the draw, the substitutions, the lack of play between the lines, or the limited ability to accelerate down the flanks, we once again witnessed the easiest exercise in our footballing debate: making Cristiano Ronaldo the scapegoat. Some scrutinized his touches as if they held the entire explanation for the game; others condemned his shots as selfish. After ninety minutes of a subpar team performance, some seemed finally satisfied to find in the captain the scapegoat they so often seek. It is, in fact, a long-standing Portuguese trait to personify in one individual, or a specific group, the reason for our failures, in an attempt at collective absolution of individual responsibilities.

There's nothing sacrilegious about discussing Cristiano Ronaldo's role in the team. No player, not even Portugal's greatest ever, should be immune to criticism, above analysis of individual performance, current form, or specific game requirements. But there's a vast difference between seriously discussing his integration and reducing the draw with Congo to a referendum on his presence. That's not analysis; it's an ill-timed settling of scores, reflecting an envy and pettiness so typical and constant in the Portuguese DNA.

Cristiano Ronaldo arrives at this World Cup at 41 years old, it's true. But he also boasts a statistical record that defies trivialization: 230 international caps, 145 goals for the national team, and the status of the all-time leading scorer in men's international football, even considering yesterday's game. Furthermore, he was the national team's top scorer in the World Cup qualifiers, with five goals in as many matches. He enters this final phase after a season at Al Nassr where he continued to score at almost his usual rate, with 28 goals and two assists in 30 Saudi League games – numbers that, in any league, for any striker, at any age, would be hailed as proof of rare competitive voracity. In Ronaldo's case, paradoxically, they often fuel suspicion, as if what he achieves at 41 is somehow insufficient simply because he accustomed us to the impossible. It's also important to understand what his presence still offers beyond goals. Cristiano continues to occupy center-backs, continues to constrain defensive lines, continues to force opponents to view the penalty area differently, and remains an emotional and competitive reference for his teammates. He may no longer be the same player who burst down the wings, took on successive opponents, and tore through the field as if the turf belonged to him by divine right. Naturally, he isn't; his speed no longer allows it, as the weight of age affects everyone. But the Cristiano Ronaldo playing today should not be judged against the memory of the player he once was. He should instead be understood in light of the transformation of his game, a result of his effort and insatiable competitive spirit, which has allowed him to prolong his career beyond what would be expected and natural. He is no longer the one-on-one game-changer, the explosive player who unlocked defenses; he has become a penalty box finisher, accumulating goals and assists that few strikers can boast in their individual records. Therefore, Ronaldo should be evaluated by the concrete utility he can still bring to this national team, fulfilling that role of finisher in a game that is, by nature, collective.

In this debate of selective blame, there's a certain generational ingratitude that is hard to accept. Cristiano Ronaldo isn't just a national team player. He is the greatest sporting icon Portugal has ever raised in world football. He is the kid from Funchal who transformed into a global symbol of demand, hard work, ambition, and overcoming challenges. He is the player who defined an era, who propelled Portugal onto stages where, before, we often entered without the respect we deserved from others. Therefore, criticizing Ronaldo can and should be acceptable, like any other player; disrespecting him, however, can never be.

Responsibility for failure, just as for success, must be shared by everyone: federation officials, the coach, the technical staff, players, and the entire structure.

The draw with Congo served as a warning, not a final verdict. As seen in yesterday's game, a few adjustments, greater commitment, more verticality in offensive organization, and a more assertive competitive attitude were enough for Portugal to stop looking like a team trapped by its own talent and start expressing it freely on the field. This time, Portugal did what they failed to do in the first match: they came out to win. They didn't just circulate the ball with harmless superiority; they sought to hurt the opponent, attacked spaces better, and found the depth on the flanks that was missing in the first game.

However, this isn't about swinging from depression to euphoria in a matter of days. That's another one of our flaws: we over-dramatize the first stumble and over-canonize the first big win. Neither extreme is accurate. The World Cup is a long and demanding competition, made of moments and details, where often the champion teams are those that grow within the tournament. What happened against Uzbekistan was important not because it guarantees us anything, but because it showed a capacity for reaction and a clear collective commitment.

We are still at the beginning. Nothing has been won, but something has been regained: confidence, authority, and a sense of belief.

Portugal will deliver!