RONALDO? Full of himself. Thinks about nothing but his own legend. Jude Bellingham, mouthing ‘who else?’ to camera while grabbing his balls? Just self-assured.
As a lifelong England fan, I’ve got finely calibrated instincts which allow me to discern between a showboating wanker hoarding trophies and a young man who isn’t under any illusions about his own talents and nor should he be.
Ronaldo, who you may remember from such productions as Ronaldo’s Portugal, Ronaldo’s Juventus and Ronaldo’s Real Madrid, is the former. Our own Jude Bellingham? The latter.
And last night Ronaldo, like the aging fool unwilling to accept his own decline he has tragically become, wept when he missed a penalty in extra time, the big girl. Yes, he later scored one and won the match, but barely. When will he retire?
Contrast that against Bellingham whose world-class goal in the 94th minute saved England’s Euros and so fully deserves to perform his signature celebration. Not like that vulgar ‘Siu’ business.
And so what if he grabbed his crotch? If Ronaldo had done that, it would have been base, crude and grounds for a ban, especially if Portugal’s next game was against England.
For Jude to do it? High spirits, exuberance, and the kind of look-at-my-cock-and-balls inside joke that so many of us share with good friends.
Bellingham is entitled to revel in the magic his gifts create. Ronaldo? A jumped-up prick who should go home, polish his Ballon d’Ors and stew in his unjustified arrogance.
What’s the difference? Ultimately, Ronaldo played for Manchester United. Twat.
