God moves in mysterious ways. Theatrically, dramatically. Beautifully, brutally. Head held high, neck extended, shoulders back, spine straight, lips pursed. Chest heaving. Up, pause for effect, down again, air escaping His lungs, blowing sailboats to shore. A prelude, a performance, pulling the world towards Him before striking with great vengeance and furious anger. The hush became awe. Wonder. Let there be light, preferably a spotlight – and, lo, there was light! A flash and a thunderbolt scorched across the sky, ripping past Diego López. If Guti boasted the "heel of God" as Real Madrid finally won at Riazor three weeks ago, Cristiano Ronaldo boasted His destructive power as they defeated Villarreal last night.
The Word of God is the word down Madrid's way. Iker Casillas has long been Saint Iker, "a fallen angel" with the hands of God. As one column-writing loon put it: "the day he came to earth, light shone upon his house like at the gate of Bethlehem when Christ was born." When David Beckham joined Madrid a particularly sycophantic suitor described him as "arriving barefoot, like Christ". And from the day Ronaldo took the same path, these most devout zealots have had him down as a candidate for beatification, his qualities exalted, his failings excused. Meanwhile, across the Spanish divide, Sport declared that Christ's address at the Sea of Galilee was, in fact, "a prophecy of Leo Messi". But this was something else. Something bigger. This was deification.
Last night God Himself appeared before the Santiago Bernabéu. Shiny faced, oily-haired, pouting and dressed in a Madrid shirt but God nonetheless. "Yesterday," opens AS's match report, "Cristiano was not just Cristiano but the whole of Christianity." Marca's cover, meanwhile, declared: "God came dressed as CR9".
The heel of God? Bah! The hands of God? So what?! Ronaldo has His creation, His omnipotence, His omnipresence. The whole package. Perfect teeth. Nice smell. A class act all the way. Today, Ronaldo is God. Not because, as in Richard Dawkins's famous description, he's the most unpleasant character in all fiction: jealous and proud of it, petty, unjust, unforgiving, a malevolent bully, capricious and megalomaniacal. But because last night Ronaldo was omnipresent and all-powerful, the creator supreme, an irresistible force as Madrid hammered Villarreal 6-2 to go back within two points of Barcelona, climb above them in terms of goals scored and rack up a 12th win out of 12 at home.
He was God because he "made" and scored the first, tumbling over and then belting in a free-kick so good, so quick, so vicious in its sudden dip, that one radio station began a search to find it a name to go with Cruyff Turns and Panenka Penalties. Because He created the third for Gonzalo Higuaín, racing down the right wing to slide a perfect first-time ball across. Because He laid the fifth on a plate for Kaká, wriggling through the challenges to leave the Brazilian one-on-one with López. And because He made the sixth for Xabi Alonso, cutting inside from the right and getting brought down for the penalty that He – very, very reluctantly and not without storming off the pitch in a strop at the end – let the former Liverpool midfielder take to score his first goal for the club.
As one editorial inevitably put it, Madrid won and convinced – they managed to "vencer" and "convencer", which is still the task before them. Alonso played superbly, Marcelo terrified Villarreal every time he advanced and Higuaín got two more goals to give him 14, twice as many as Karim Benzema. But few noticed because last night was all about Cristiano Ronaldo; last night, he was everywhere and everything, dashing down the line, crashing to the turf, lashing at the ball, sprinting after lost causes, resuscitating moves, utterly engrossing, utterly all-encompassing. If Kaká belongs to Jesus, you could be forgiven for believing that the rest of the team belongs to Ronaldo.
While there have been signs of Madrid being a more impressive side collectively without Ronaldo; while there are times when his almost pathological desire to do it all is counter-productive; while every time Madrid win Marca says its down to Him and nothing to do with Manuel Pellegrini but every time they lose it's not His fault and everything to do with Pellegrini; while He missed His big chance against Barcelona, something that Royston Drenthe was tried, convicted and sentenced for but for which Ronaldo was quickly forgiven; and while He did little during Wednesday night's defeat in Lyon, when He's this good He is irresistible. A beast.
Last night Madrid were given a slight helping hand by jelly-headed referee Muñiz Fernández – the first came from a free-kick which wasn't, the penalties for the second and sixth look a little generous but probably correct, and there's a hint of offside in the third – and Villarreal's defending was appalling, their back four suicidally high and so slow they're still out on the Bernabéu turf making tackles now. But still, Ronaldo was absolutely unbelievable; a whirlwind awarded four marks by AS. Out of three. Just before midnight in the cold concrete corridor of the stadium, a Villarreal player shook his head sadly and blew out his cheeks. "When he's playing like this," he said. "Ronaldo is completely unstoppable. Truly incredible."
"His performance can be summed up in just one word," insisted one Tomás Guasch: "¡olé!" Raising his eyebrows, the Villarreal goalkeeper López used as many to describe the free-kick that set Madrid on their way: "whoosh!" El País's headline simply called Him a "colossus." Most, though, were using rather more words. "One day, he'll win the ball, cross it in and head it home himself," claimed El Mundo. "Apart from the absurd paraphernalia that accompanies his free-kicks, he was impeccable. As well as shooting, taking the free-kicks, building the plays and giving passes, Cristiano Ronaldo is also the one that folds up the shirts, cleans the boots and cuts the grass. The only thing left for him to do is man the ticket office," wrote Roberto Palomar in Marca, "Ronaldo did everything. His activity was such that his team-mates just get in the way."
It is an uncomfortable and potentially damaging truth but this morning no one cares. And why would they? Ronaldo was, El Mundo, wrote: "the orchestra man, capable of doing everything a player can do in attack." For those with long memories, the remark struck a chord. The Internazionale and Barcelona coach Helenio Herrera famously once said of Madrid's greatest ever player: "if Pelé was the lead violinist Alfredo Di Stéfano was the entire orchestra." The implicit comparison was the greatest compliment they could have paid him. When it comes to Real Madrid, no one can compete with Di Stéfano. Not even God.
The Word of God is the word down Madrid's way. Iker Casillas has long been Saint Iker, "a fallen angel" with the hands of God. As one column-writing loon put it: "the day he came to earth, light shone upon his house like at the gate of Bethlehem when Christ was born." When David Beckham joined Madrid a particularly sycophantic suitor described him as "arriving barefoot, like Christ". And from the day Ronaldo took the same path, these most devout zealots have had him down as a candidate for beatification, his qualities exalted, his failings excused. Meanwhile, across the Spanish divide, Sport declared that Christ's address at the Sea of Galilee was, in fact, "a prophecy of Leo Messi". But this was something else. Something bigger. This was deification.
Last night God Himself appeared before the Santiago Bernabéu. Shiny faced, oily-haired, pouting and dressed in a Madrid shirt but God nonetheless. "Yesterday," opens AS's match report, "Cristiano was not just Cristiano but the whole of Christianity." Marca's cover, meanwhile, declared: "God came dressed as CR9".
The heel of God? Bah! The hands of God? So what?! Ronaldo has His creation, His omnipotence, His omnipresence. The whole package. Perfect teeth. Nice smell. A class act all the way. Today, Ronaldo is God. Not because, as in Richard Dawkins's famous description, he's the most unpleasant character in all fiction: jealous and proud of it, petty, unjust, unforgiving, a malevolent bully, capricious and megalomaniacal. But because last night Ronaldo was omnipresent and all-powerful, the creator supreme, an irresistible force as Madrid hammered Villarreal 6-2 to go back within two points of Barcelona, climb above them in terms of goals scored and rack up a 12th win out of 12 at home.
He was God because he "made" and scored the first, tumbling over and then belting in a free-kick so good, so quick, so vicious in its sudden dip, that one radio station began a search to find it a name to go with Cruyff Turns and Panenka Penalties. Because He created the third for Gonzalo Higuaín, racing down the right wing to slide a perfect first-time ball across. Because He laid the fifth on a plate for Kaká, wriggling through the challenges to leave the Brazilian one-on-one with López. And because He made the sixth for Xabi Alonso, cutting inside from the right and getting brought down for the penalty that He – very, very reluctantly and not without storming off the pitch in a strop at the end – let the former Liverpool midfielder take to score his first goal for the club.
As one editorial inevitably put it, Madrid won and convinced – they managed to "vencer" and "convencer", which is still the task before them. Alonso played superbly, Marcelo terrified Villarreal every time he advanced and Higuaín got two more goals to give him 14, twice as many as Karim Benzema. But few noticed because last night was all about Cristiano Ronaldo; last night, he was everywhere and everything, dashing down the line, crashing to the turf, lashing at the ball, sprinting after lost causes, resuscitating moves, utterly engrossing, utterly all-encompassing. If Kaká belongs to Jesus, you could be forgiven for believing that the rest of the team belongs to Ronaldo.
While there have been signs of Madrid being a more impressive side collectively without Ronaldo; while there are times when his almost pathological desire to do it all is counter-productive; while every time Madrid win Marca says its down to Him and nothing to do with Manuel Pellegrini but every time they lose it's not His fault and everything to do with Pellegrini; while He missed His big chance against Barcelona, something that Royston Drenthe was tried, convicted and sentenced for but for which Ronaldo was quickly forgiven; and while He did little during Wednesday night's defeat in Lyon, when He's this good He is irresistible. A beast.
Last night Madrid were given a slight helping hand by jelly-headed referee Muñiz Fernández – the first came from a free-kick which wasn't, the penalties for the second and sixth look a little generous but probably correct, and there's a hint of offside in the third – and Villarreal's defending was appalling, their back four suicidally high and so slow they're still out on the Bernabéu turf making tackles now. But still, Ronaldo was absolutely unbelievable; a whirlwind awarded four marks by AS. Out of three. Just before midnight in the cold concrete corridor of the stadium, a Villarreal player shook his head sadly and blew out his cheeks. "When he's playing like this," he said. "Ronaldo is completely unstoppable. Truly incredible."
"His performance can be summed up in just one word," insisted one Tomás Guasch: "¡olé!" Raising his eyebrows, the Villarreal goalkeeper López used as many to describe the free-kick that set Madrid on their way: "whoosh!" El País's headline simply called Him a "colossus." Most, though, were using rather more words. "One day, he'll win the ball, cross it in and head it home himself," claimed El Mundo. "Apart from the absurd paraphernalia that accompanies his free-kicks, he was impeccable. As well as shooting, taking the free-kicks, building the plays and giving passes, Cristiano Ronaldo is also the one that folds up the shirts, cleans the boots and cuts the grass. The only thing left for him to do is man the ticket office," wrote Roberto Palomar in Marca, "Ronaldo did everything. His activity was such that his team-mates just get in the way."
It is an uncomfortable and potentially damaging truth but this morning no one cares. And why would they? Ronaldo was, El Mundo, wrote: "the orchestra man, capable of doing everything a player can do in attack." For those with long memories, the remark struck a chord. The Internazionale and Barcelona coach Helenio Herrera famously once said of Madrid's greatest ever player: "if Pelé was the lead violinist Alfredo Di Stéfano was the entire orchestra." The implicit comparison was the greatest compliment they could have paid him. When it comes to Real Madrid, no one can compete with Di Stéfano. Not even God.
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