El viaje cargado de emociones de Ronaldo: la inspiradora historia detrás de su éxito y la profunda influencia de su padre.

Tengo un fuerte recuerdo de cuando tenía 7 años. Es tan claro para mí que puedo imaginármelo ahora mismo y me hace sentir cálido. Tiene que ver con mi familia.

Acababa de empezar a jugar al fútbol de verdad. Antes, simplemente jugaba en las calles de Madeira con mis amigos. Y cuando digo calle, no me refiero a una carretera vacía. Realmente me refiero a una calle. No teníamos goles ni nada y teníamos que parar el partido cada vez que pasaban los coches. Estaba completamente feliz haciendo eso todos los días, pero mi padre era el kitman del CF Andorinha y seguía animándome a ir a jugar en el equipo juvenil. Sabía que eso lo haría sentir muy orgulloso, así que fui.

El primer día había muchas reglas que no entendía, pero me encantó. Me volví adicto a la estructura y a la sensación de ganar. Mi padre estaba al margen de cada partido con su gran barba y sus pantalones de trabajo. Le encantó. Pero a mi madre y a mis hermanas no les interesaba el fútbol.

Así que todas las noches, durante la cena, mi padre seguía intentando reclutarlos para que vinieran a verme tocar. Era como si fuera mi primer agente. Recuerdo que volvía a casa de los partidos con él y me decía: “¡Cristiano marcó un gol!”.

Dirían: “Oh, genial”.

Pero ellos realmente no se emocionaron, ¿sabes?

Luego volvía a casa la siguiente vez y decía: “¡Cristiano marcó dos goles!”.

Todavía no hay emoción. Simplemente decían: “Oh, eso es realmente lindo, Cris”.

Una noche, mi padre llegó a casa y dijo: “¡Cristiano marcó tres goles! ¡Era increíble! ¡Tienes que venir a verlo jugar!

Pero aun así, antes de cada partido miraba hacia el banquillo y veía a mi padre parado allí, solo. Entonces, un día (nunca olvidaré esta imagen), estaba calentando y miré y vi a mi mamá y a mis hermanas sentadas juntas en las gradas. Parecían… ¿cómo digo esto? Parecían acogedores. Estaban apiñados muy juntos y no aplaudían ni gritaban, simplemente me saludaban, como si estuviera en un desfile o algo así. Definitivamente parecían como si nunca antes hubieran asistido a un partido de fútbol. Pero estaban allí. Eso es todo lo que me importaba.

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Me sentí tan bien en ese momento. Significó mucho para mí. Fue como si algo cambiara dentro de mí. Estaba realmente orgulloso. En aquella época no teníamos mucho dinero. En aquel entonces la vida era una lucha en Madeira. Estaba jugando con las botas viejas que me pasó mi hermano o mis primos. Pero cuando eres niño, no te importa el dinero. Te importa cierto sentimiento. Y ese día, este sentimiento fue muy fuerte. Me sentí protegida y amada. En portugués decimos menino querido da família.

Miro el recuerdo con nostalgia, porque ese período de mi vida resultó ser corto. El fútbol me lo dio todo, pero también me llevó lejos de casa antes de estar realmente preparado. Cuando tenía 11 años me mudé de la isla a la academia del Sporting de Lisboa y fue el momento más difícil de mi vida.

It’s crаzy for me to think about now. My son, Cristiano Jr., is 7 years old as I’m writing this. And I just think about how I would feel, packing up a bag for him in four years and sending him to Paris or London. It seems impossible. And I’m sure it seemed impossible for my parents to do with me.

But it was my opportunity to pursue my dream. So they let me go, and I went. I cried almost every day. I was still in Portugal, but it was like moving to another country. The accent made it like a completely different language. The culture was different. I didn’t know anybody, and it was extremely lonely. My family could only afford to come visit me every four months or so. I was missing them so much that every day was painful.

Football kept me going. I knew I was doing things on the field that the other kids at the academy couldn’t do. I remember the first time I heard one of the kids sаy to another kid, “Did you see what he did? This guy is a beast.”

I started hearing it all the time. Even from the coaches. But then somebody would always sаy, “Yeah but it’s a shame he’s so small.”

And it’s true, I was skinny. I had no muscle. So I made a decision at 11 years old. I knew I had a lot of talent, but I decided that I was going to work harder than everybody. I was going to stop playing like a kid. I was going to stop acting like a kid. I was going to train like I could be the best in the world.

I don’t know where this feeling came from. It was just inside of me. It’s like a hunger that never goes away. When you lose, it’s like you’re starving. When you win, it’s still like you’re starving, but you ate a little crumb. This is the only way I can explain it.

I started sneaking out of the dormitory at night to go work out. I got bigger and faster. And then I would walk onto the field — and the people who used to whisper, “Yeah, but he’s so skinny”? Now they would be looking at me like it was the end of the world.

When I was 15, I turned to some of my teammates during training. I remember it so clearly. I said to them, “I’ll be the best in the world one day.”

They were kind of laughing about it. I wasn’t even on Sporting’s first team yet, but I had that belief. I really meant it.

When I started playing professionally at 17, my mother could barely watch because of the strеss. She would come to watch me play at the old Estádio José Alvalade, and she got so nervous during big games that she passed out a few times. Seriously, she passed out. The doctors started prescribing her sedatives just for my matches.

I would sаy to her, “Remember when you didn’t care about football?” ?

I started dreaming bigger and bigger. I wаnted to play for the national team, and I wаnted to play for Manchester, because I watched the Premier League on TV all the time. I was mesmerized by how fast the game moved and the songs that the crowds would sing. The atmosphere was so moving to me. When I became a player for Manchester, it was a very proud moment for me, but I think it was an even prouder moment for my family.

At first, winning trophies was very emotional for me. I remember when I won my first Champions League trophy at Manchester, it was an overwhelming feeling. Same thing with my first Ballon d’Or. But my dreams kept getting bigger. That’s the point of dreams, right? I had always admired Madrid, and I wаnted a new challenge. I wаnted to win trophies at Madrid, and break all the records, and become a club legend.

Over the past eight years, I have achieved incredible things at Madrid. But to be honest, winning trophies later on in my career has become a different kind of emotion. Especially in these last two years. At Madrid, if you don’t win everything, other people consider it a failure. This is the expectation of greatness. This is my job.

But when you are a father, it is a completely different feeling. A feeling that I cannot describe. This is why my time in Madrid has been special. I have been a footballer, yes, but also a father.

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There is a moment with my son that I will always remember so clearly.

When I think about it, I feel warm.

It was the moment on the field after we won the last Champions League final in Cardiff. We made history that night. When I was on the pitch after the final whistle, it felt like I had sent a message to the world. But then my son came on the field to celebrate with me … and it was like the snap of a finger. SuԀԀenly, the entire emotion changed. He was running around with Marcelo’s son. We held the trophy together. Then we walked around the field, hand in hand.

It is a joy that I did not understand until I was a father. There are so many emotions happening simultaneously that you cannot describe the feeling in words. The only thing I can compare it to is how I felt when I was warming up in Madeira and I saw my mother and sister huddled together in the stands.

When we returned to the Bernabeu to celebrate, Cristiano Jr. and Marcelito were playing around on the field in front of all the fans. It was a much different scene than when I was playing in the streets at his age, but I hope that the feeling for my son is the same as it was for me. Menino querido da família.

After 400 matches with Madrid, winning is still my ultimate ambition. I think I was born like that. But the feeling after I win has definitely changed. This is a new chapter in my life. I had a special message engraved on my new boots. It’s right on the heel, and the words are the last thing that I read before I lace them up and go to the tunnel.

It is like a final reminder … a final motivation. It says, “El sueño del niño.”

El sueño del niño.

Quizás ahora lo entiendas.

Al final, por supuesto, mi misión es la misma de siempre. Quiero seguir batiendo récords en el Madrid. Quiero ganar la mayor cantidad de títulos posibles. Ésta es simplemente mi naturaleza.

Pero lo que más significa para mí de mi paso por Madrid, y lo que les contaré a mis nietos cuando tenga 95 años, es la sensación de caminar por el campo como un campeón, de la mano de mi hijo.

Espero que lo hagamos de nuevo.