MESSI IS NO SAINT: STOP PUTTING HIM ON A MORAL PEDESTAL ABOVE RONALDO

By Frank Ofili

There is something rather amusing, if not downright embarrassing, about the way some Nigerian football fans have turned Lionel Messi into the patron saint of humility while portraying Cristiano Ronaldo as the personification of arrogance, selfishness and bad behaviour. To listen to some of these admirers, Messi can do no wrong, while Ronaldo can do no right. One is supposedly the humble genius who knows when to leave the stage; the other is the self-centred showman who does not know when his time is up.

Now that Ronaldo has attracted criticism over his departure from Portugal’s national team camp, the familiar chorus has resumed. Why can’t he be humble like Messi? Why can’t he retire when the ovation is loudest, as Messi has supposedly done? Why must everything be about Ronaldo?

But before Nigerians join this moral crusade against Ronaldo, perhaps we should ask a simple question: Are we judging two footballers by the same standards, or have we made Messi the hero of a morality play in which Ronaldo has already been cast as the villain?

Messi is undoubtedly one of the greatest footballers ever to grace the game. His extraordinary talent is beyond argument. His achievements with Argentina, Barcelona, PSG and Inter Miami have earned him a place among football’s immortals. But greatness on the pitch does not automatically translate into moral perfection off it. Neither does a quiet public demeanour necessarily mean that a person is more humble, more disciplined or more honourable than someone who is outspoken and flamboyant.

Messi is no saint, Ronaldo is no devil, and football fandom should never require us to abandon our capacity for independent judgment.

The problem with the Messi-Ronaldo debate is that too many people have confused footballing preference with moral judgment. They prefer Messi’s style, personality or public image and then proceed to interpret almost everything he does in the most flattering possible light. Ronaldo, meanwhile, is scrutinised under a harsher standard.

That is not objectivity. It is idol worship.

But Messi is human too. Let me present these seven reminders to drive home the point.

1, The substitution controversy: Is a superstar above the coach?

In October 2014, during Barcelona’s match against Eibar, television footage appeared to show Messi resisting a possible substitution by manager Luis Enrique. Neymar was eventually taken off instead.

The incident raised an uncomfortable question: can a footballer of Messi’s stature exercise so much influence that even a coach’s decisions appear negotiable? Luis Enrique played down the episode, and it would be unfair to describe it as proven insubordination. Nevertheless, the footage became part of a wider debate about the power enjoyed by football’s biggest stars.

Imagine Ronaldo appearing to resist a substitution. Would his defenders receive the same generosity of interpretation that Messi’s admirers extended to him?

2. The Luis Enrique rift: The superstar and the manager

In January 2015, reports of tension between Messi and Luis Enrique dominated the Barcelona headlines. There were claims of disagreements over tactics, training and the manager’s methods. Some reports even suggested that Messi wanted the coach removed.

Messi denied it of course. Yet the episode still exposed a recurring feature of modern football: the uneasy relationship between a powerful superstar and the authority of the person appointed to manage the team.

The point is not that Messi was guilty of every allegation made against him. It is that he, too, has been at the centre of controversies about influence, authority and dressing-room relationships. Why, then, is Ronaldo’s every disagreement interpreted as proof of an incurably selfish character?

3. The Argentina retirement announcement: Was that humility?

After Argentina lost the 2016 Copa América Centenario final to Chile on penalties, Messi announced his retirement from international football. Argentina had suffered another painful final defeat, and Messi’s frustration was understandable. He later reversed the decision and returned to the national team.

His announcement was not a disciplinary offence. Footballers have the right to retire, and nobody should be condemned merely for making an emotional decision after a devastating defeat.

Nevertheless, the announcement shocked a country that depended heavily on his leadership. Critics questioned whether its captain should walk away at such a difficult moment.

Here is the lesson: Messi is not immune to frustration, disappointment or decisions that provoke public criticism. If Ronaldo’s continued determination to play is interpreted as selfishness, why should Messi’s decision to walk away, even temporarily, be interpreted exclusively as humility?

One man’s persistence should not automatically be arrogance, just as another man’s retirement should not automatically be nobility.

4. The 2019 Copa América: A red card and a corruption allegation

In July 2019, Messi was sent off alongside Chile captain Gary Medel during Argentina’s third-place playoff against Chile at the Copa América. After the match, Messi accused the tournament’s organisers of corruption and suggested that the competition was arranged to favour Brazil.

CONMEBOL rejected the allegations. Messi was subsequently suspended for three months and fined $50,000.

This was not merely gossip about his personality. The suspension and fine were formal consequences of his public conduct.

Messi was entitled to criticise officiating. Football authorities are not beyond reproach, and players should not be expected to remain silent when they believe injustice has occurred. But accusing a major competition of corruption is a serious charge, and the burden of substantiating such an allegation cannot be dismissed simply because the person making it is Lionel Messi.

Suppose Ronaldo had made comparable accusations after a tournament defeat. Would his admirers describe him as courageous and outspoken, or would the same incident be offered as further evidence of his arrogance and inability to accept defeat?

The question is worth asking.

5. The 2020 Barcelona transfer saga: When the legend wanted out

In August 2020, Messi informed Barcelona through a formal legal communication that he wanted to terminate his association with the club. Barcelona disputed his interpretation of the contract and insisted that the deadline for activating the relevant departure provision had passed. Messi subsequently stayed for another season.

The confrontation was bitter. Messi also failed to attend the club’s scheduled pre-season COVID-19 testing, thereby missing the expected start of preparations with his teammates.

Supporters could reasonably argue that Messi had legitimate grievances against Barcelona’s management. The club’s eventual decline, its financial problems and the deterioration of his relationship with its leadership were serious matters. He was also entitled to seek a legal interpretation of his contract.

But let us not pretend that the episode was an exhibition of unblemished loyalty. A player who had spent years being celebrated as the soul of a club was prepared to pursue a contentious exit when he believed the relationship had broken down.

If Ronaldo’s desire to leave Manchester United was evidence of selfishness, why was Messi’s confrontation with Barcelona treated largely as an understandable struggle for freedom?

6. The Saudi Arabia trip: Professional discipline applies to superstars, too

In May 2023, Messi travelled to Saudi Arabia while contracted to Paris Saint-Germain, without the club’s permission. The trip came amid a dispute over a training schedule that had reportedly changed after PSG’s defeat to Lorient.

The club suspended him for two weeks, and Messi apologised to the club and his teammates.

This was a genuine disciplinary matter, not merely speculation about his relationship with a manager. The incident raised legitimate questions about compliance with team instructions and the responsibilities that accompany a professional contract.

Nobody should argue that one unauthorised trip erases an extraordinary career. That would be absurd. But the incident should remind us that Messi, like Ronaldo, is capable of making decisions that conflict with the expectations of his employers.

Why, then, is Ronaldo’s conduct so often treated as a window into his entire character, while Messi’s disciplinary problems are quickly relegated to footnotes in the story of his greatness?

7. The Spanish tax-fraud conviction: Talent does not place anyone above the law

In 2016, a Spanish court convicted Messi and his father, Jorge Messi, of tax fraud involving income from image rights. Messi received a 21-month prison sentence, later replaced by a financial penalty under the applicable rules for first-time offenders.

Messi maintained that he had trusted his advisers and did not understand the arrangements involved. That explanation is relevant to understanding his position, but it does not erase the conviction.

This was a legal matter, not a footballing disagreement. It should not be confused with an on-field disciplinary offence, nor should it be used to suggest that every allegation against a celebrity is true. Nevertheless, it belongs in any honest discussion of the controversies that have surrounded Messi’s public life.

The lesson is straightforward: footballing genius does not confer moral immunity. Neither fame nor an army of admirers should shield a public figure from legitimate scrutiny.

The Benin episode: A sobering question about humility

If Messi’s previous controversies provide historical context, the events surrounding his recent Argentina farewell have created a fresh reason to question the uncritical image of humility that some Nigerian fans have constructed around him.

On 6 October 2026, Argentina defeated Benin 3–0 in Buenos Aires in a match organised as Messi’s farewell to international football. Messi scored a penalty, and the occasion was filled with tributes to his remarkable career.

For Benin’s players, however, this was more than an ordinary friendly. They had the opportunity to share a football pitch with one of the game’s most celebrated figures. Understandably, some hoped to exchange shirts, take photographs and preserve a personal memento of the occasion.

According to Benin coach Gernot Rohr, those hopes were frustrated. Rohr complained that his players were unable to exchange shirts with Argentina’s players or take photographs with Messi. He said his players had brought shirts for the customary exchange but left without the interaction they had hoped for.

That account deserves serious consideration. Shirt exchanges and post-match photographs are familiar gestures of mutual respect in football. For young players from an African national team, such an encounter could have been an unforgettable moment.

Yet we should be precise about responsibility. Rohr’s account describes the actions of the Argentine delegation and security arrangements; it does not, by itself, establish that Messi personally instructed anyone to deny the Benin players access. Nor does it prove that Messi personally refused every request.

Still, I find it difficult to believe that Messi was not a position to insist on taking photographs and exchange jersey with the eager Beninese players.

The episode also raises an uncomfortable question for those who insist on presenting Messi as the embodiment of humility: if a football icon’s farewell is celebrated as a moment of love, gratitude and respect, should the opponents who helped make that farewell possible not also be treated with consideration?

A farewell match is not simply a private celebration. It is also a football match involving another national team, its players, its coaches and a country’s sporting pride. Benin did not travel to Buenos Aires merely to serve as supporting cast in somebody else’s coronation.

And what of the wider complaints about the treatment and accommodation of the Benin delegation? And the lack of payment of appearance fee? Those allegations deserve investigation. But if the reported arrangements fell below acceptable standards, the relevant organisers should be held accountable. A whole national team and officials should not risk their lives flying intercontinental to honour an invitational without benefits attached to it, no matter how small.

Africa must not be so dazzled by the presence of a global superstar that it becomes indifferent to the dignity of its own representatives.

There is, of course, an important distinction between Messi’s personal conduct and the decisions of Argentina’s football association, team officials and security personnel. It would be unfair to attribute every organisational failure to one player. Nevertheless, the incident challenges the simplistic assumption that a superstar’s celebrated public image automatically guarantees exemplary conduct by everyone associated with his farewell.

And it is precisely this distinction that many fans seem unwilling to make when the subject is Ronaldo.

So, is Ronaldo selfish and Messi humble?

Let us return to the original argument. Some Nigerian fans have criticised Ronaldo for leaving Portugal’s national team camp and insist that he should retire while the ovation is loudest, as Messi has supposedly done.

But why should a player’s decision to continue playing be interpreted as selfishness while another player’s decision to retire is interpreted as wisdom?

Ronaldo has built his career around extraordinary ambition, physical conditioning and an almost obsessive determination to keep competing. Those qualities can make him difficult, outspoken or controversial. They have also helped him remain competitive at an age when many of his contemporaries have long retired.

Messi has his own personality, priorities and way of approaching football. His quieter public demeanour appeals to many people. That is perfectly understandable. But quietness is not a certificate of virtue, just as confidence is not proof of arrogance.

Both men have experienced disputes with coaches, difficult moments with their national teams and controversies involving their clubs. Messi has received formal disciplinary sanctions. Ronaldo, too, has had his share of controversies. Neither man needs to be transformed into a saint for us to acknowledge his footballing greatness.

And if Messi chooses to retire from international football, that is his decision. If Ronaldo chooses to continue playing for Portugal, that is his decision, subject to the selection decisions of his national coach and the requirements of the team. Neither decision, by itself, proves that one man is morally superior to the other.

There is also a danger in confusing public relations with personality. A footballer’s image is shaped by interviews, media coverage, commercial interests, supporters and the stories that people choose to tell about him. The man we see on television is not necessarily the whole person.

We should therefore resist the temptation to infer an entire character from a few carefully selected incidents, whether favourable or unfavourable.

Africans must stop outsourcing their judgment to football fandom

My objection is not to anyone preferring Messi to Ronaldo. Football is a game of opinions, and nobody should be compelled to admire both players equally. One may prefer Messi’s dribbling, vision and creativity; another may prefer Ronaldo’s athleticism, aerial ability, goal-scoring instincts and competitive drive.

That is football.

What is troubling is the tendency to turn a sporting preference into a moral hierarchy. Messi wins a trophy, and his admirers celebrate his humility. Ronaldo wins a trophy, and critics accuse him of self-promotion. Messi has a disagreement, and it is explained away as frustration. Ronaldo has a disagreement, and it becomes evidence of a defective personality.

This is not analysis. It is selective outrage.

Why should a player’s decision to continue playing be interpreted as selfishness while another player’s decision to retire is interpreted as wisdom?

Africans, in particular, should be careful not to mistake access to a global superstar for an obligation to worship him. Our players, our national teams and our football institutions deserve respect, whether they are facing Argentina, Portugal or any other country.

The reported disappointment of Benin’s delegation should remind us that respect must be reciprocal. The African players who shared the pitch with Messi were professionals in their own right. They were not merely extras invited to decorate his farewell. Their dignity mattered, too.

At the same time, fairness requires us to establish the facts, distinguish Messi’s personal actions from those of Argentina’s officials, and avoid turning one reported incident into a sweeping verdict on his character.

That same fairness must apply to Ronaldo.

My argument is not that Messi is a bad man and Ronaldo is a saint. It is that neither man should be declared a saint or condemned as a villain merely because of the footballer we prefer.

Messi deserves admiration for his achievements. Ronaldo deserves admiration for his. Both deserve scrutiny when their conduct warrants it. And both deserve the basic fairness of being judged on evidence rather than prejudice.

So, the next time an African football fan tells you that Messi is the epitome of humility while Ronaldo is the embodiment of selfishness, ask a simple question:

Are we discussing football, or have we appointed ourselves to a moral jury whose verdict depends on which superstar we happen to worship?

Because the truth is that Messi is no saint, Ronaldo is no devil, and football fandom should never require us to abandon our capacity for independent judgment.

Greatness should command respect, but it should never demand blind worship.