Ronaldo v Messi: Dawn of Justice

In my world, there are only three things that matter, the ball, the pitch and the game, nothing more, nothing less. My name is Jermaine Justice, and this is the story of how I became the greatest footballer of all time.

It all began in 2012, Cristiano Ronaldo was at his peak, and it seemed there was no stopping Lionel Messi. They were the gods of the game, but the heavens could only harbor one ruler at a time. Needless to say the ocean had room for only one titanic, constantly at cross hares, one always trying to outdo the other, but little did the world know that these two forces of nature shared a strange relationship. A relationship that thrived outside the stadium, behind closed doors. 

They were friends.

The truth is they had always been friends, but the powers that be paid them to keep up appearances, encouraging a celebrity feud that gave fans of both their clubs something to bicker about. Off pitch they shared dating tips and talked about gardening. Messi was always having trouble pruning and Ronaldo just couldn't get the ladies to stop calling. But lately, the two had found something heavier to talk about. A dark cloud had cast its shadow upon football, and they found themselves in a precarious situation.

It's not like it used to be. Messi confessed. The spark man, it's gone. Everything's so predictable now. The league starts and you kind of already know the teams in regulation and the teams vying for the cup. There are no underdogs, no black horses, just winners and losers. It's no longer a game man, it's a corporation.

Ronaldo who was always the quieter of the two, just nodded his head as if to say, I feel you bro.

We've got to do something man. I mean me and you, we can hold our own, and we can thrill the crowd. But in the next 10 years, we'll be gone, and then what? This game is bigger than just the two of us man, we've got to leave the fans with something more than a memory.

What do you suggest? Ronaldo asked.

Messi thought about it, long and hard. Let’s find a protegè. Someone we can train, mold into a paragon, a model of the perfect footballer, to inspire the next generation.

Let us make man in our own image. Ronaldo mused and the both of them shared a hearty laugh.

Their joy didn't last too long as they would soon find that their task was easier said than done.Everywhere they looked, they found either talent without skill or skill without talent. Ronaldo favoured the latter whilst Messi preferred the former, but they could never agree. Only the perfect blend would do.

That's where I came in, they found me in some little corner somewhere, playing street football. They were impressed and theytook me in.

For 12 months they trained me secretly, dragging me through the dessert heat and the forest rain, trying to force me to shed off all my excesses. They worked me so hard I couldn't feel my legs and arms anymore. It was like I ran on air. Fatigue became a stranger. They pushed and they pushed till I could hold nothing back, I became the perfect hybrid, the ultimate player, in theory of course.

But it wasn't enough. Ronaldo needed to know that I could maintain the skill, that I could carry on without them. So they weaned me off all support and put me back on the streets where they found me, to fend for myself. 

I'll tell you up front. It was horrible! Every one and every game was just too slow for me, the kids I used to look up to suddenly became pushovers, nobody played with the intensity I needed. But I was determined to stay focused; I wasn't going to let their drizzle dampen my storm. I played ferociously, like a wounded beast on the pitch; the ball was mine and no one elses.

By the time they came back for me, I was better than ever or at least by my own estimates. They had one final test for me. It was Messi’s idea.

The test was to play a one on one game of two halves, the first half with Messi, the latter with Ronaldo. I protested of course, it just wasn't fair. I'd be comparatively fatigued if I was playing with a fresh of the bench opponent the second half. I threw their challenge back in their face. I said I would take them both on, in 10 minutes with a Golden goal in effect.

They did not restrain themselves, nor did they relent. They came at me with all their firepower. Messi dazzled me with his legs. They went left and right, and left and right, then right again, but he just couldn't clear me. He passed to Ronaldo and who tried to use his stature to prevail against me physically, but I held my ground, even if I was to lose, I would not make it easy for them.

The ball was at the feet of Messi again. He accelerated. Not ran, accelerated, it was like he had 10 gears and all the horsepower in the world, but I knew something most didn't. One light little touch and he would go tumbling to the ground. I did it, he was flat on his butt. Then all I had to do was get past the imposing figure of Ronaldo.

He marked me, and it seemed no matter what I did, he wouldn't budge. I spun left, and right, and flicked the ball. But I just couldn't shake him. Messi was back on his feet and sprinting towards us. My window of opportunity was slipping away. I had only one option. I took a deep breath and charged forward. My plan had a two to one chance of success. It was either our impact would floor him, or floor me, or floor us both. I was just inches away from him. I could see his broad chest heaving in anticipation of defense, but I never got to find out what would happen if I struck Goliath. Right there, at the very last split second, I decided against my plan and did a 180 degree spin with the ball. I stood back to back with Ronaldo facing the post. I struckt he ball and it began to roll rapidly to the goal line. 

That was when I felt it.

A strong wind blew past me. It was Messi, no longer sprinting but on full speed, he was going to intercept my goal kick. I began to wish I had struck the ball even harder. I'd never seen a human being move so fast. It was as though the clothes he wore would tear off his skin!

He kicked the ball away....

.... a second too late. It had already passed the goal line. I had won! I had beaten the two great gods of football. The both of them ran and embraced me, as though we were all on the same team and shared the goal. They bore me up on their shoulders, and the champions proclaimed me to be a champion.

"True leaders don't invest in buildings. Jesus never built a building. They invest in people. Why? Because success without a successor is failure."Myles Munroe.