It’s a shame really. You know him as the fat-nomeno, a caricature of a carioca forward, butt of a thousand Real Madrid jokes, last remnant of a Galactico winter, but those like me who remember 1994, when Brazil won the World Cup against favored Italy, the name Ronaldo still carries weight.

For me, he was the paciest player I have ever seen. At PSV he was, a gangly center forward, just off the shuttle from Brazil, spending two fruitful years in Eindhoven bagging 42 goals in 46 appearances and drawing notice from Barcelona, leaving for the waiting arms of Sir Bobby Robson and big time European football.

We often forget how dominant a forward he really was at his heights. He pulled Brazil almost singlehandedly into the 2002 World Cup, won the Golden Shoe scoring eight goals, and lifting the trophy for the selecao. He was called up for the last 4 World Cups, playing in three, becoming the greatest goal scorer in the history of the World Cup. He trails only Pele and Zico as the greatest international goal scorers in the history of the Brazilian national team. In 11 years playing on the biggest stage, for three of the biggest clubs in the world (Inter Milan, Barcelona and Real Madrid), Ronaldo scored 166 goals.

Despite all the accomplishments, we often note that he never won the Champions League and that his clubs often struggled to win league titles with him. We remember him for the weird soul-patch haircut on his forehead, the weirder chia-pet one for Milan, the epileptic seizures that took him before the 1998 World Cup final against France, and the devastating knee injuries that robbed him of most of his pace, but none of skill and panache on the ball. Instead of remembering him for his perseverance, returning to play for Inter after many had written him off, we call him a mercenary for repaying Moratti’s loyalty by taking Real Madrid’s money and leaving for Spain. We call him an destabilizing force, a poor teammate, undedicated, and the worst of the Galactico policy.

We even remember him more for his personal life, filled with a litany of Brazilian supermodels, television presenters, singers and actresses. We see the fast cars, the easy money, and the high life. We see him slow down, gain weight and we call him lazy. Even the President of Brazil calls him fat and lazy.

We all age and change, but a phenomenon has no business being human, he is constantly compared to the player he was, even if he has a lot left to give. It would be so much easier if he went away, if we could just remember the good times, then he could be a legend one that burned brightly and flamed out, rather than the one who lagged about and overstayed his welcome.

Now he has injured himself again. A twin injury to his first, one in rossoneri compared to one in nerazzurri. We blame Milan labs, or the PSV doctors, or the Brazilians themselves, and again we ignore the player. We continue to ignore the man for the myth. We break down our idols after building them up. Will we be able to appreciate his skill only after he has retired?

I think he still has a great deal to play for and to play towards. Is it in Brazil or in the U.S.? Who knows. Remember, he is younger than Hernan Crespo, David Beckham, Alessandro Del Piero, Clarence Seedorf and Fernando Morientes. He is only slightly older than Thierry Henry and Raul Gonzalez, and he is the same age within days of Francesco Totti. I think he has earned a right to choose for himself.

He is not just a commodity, a manufactured image, a poster on a wall. Nike’s football savior, until they find another one, a younger, slimmer model with rock star good looks, and pretty step-overs, but none of the definition and serene finishing. Despite sharing the same name, and a common language, this new Ronaldo (Cristiano) will never fill the shoes of Ronaldo Luis Nazario da Lima. Ronaldinho before Ronaldinho.  O Fenomeno.

Mando from Forza Futbol