Cristiano woke up to headlines in five languages
Portuguese
English
Spanish
Italian
German
His name was everywhere
His goals were trending
Clips of his speed and footwork hit millions overnight
But inside
He felt calm
Not proud
Not satisfied
Only more hungry
The quarterfinal opponent was even tougher
More trophies
More stars
More experience
In the pre match press conference
Their captain said
He's good
But he's still just a kid
Cristiano didn't answer with words
He answered with boots
Match day under the floodlights
He didn't just play well
He stole the game
Two assists
One goal
And a move that left two defenders sliding into each other like dominoes
The stadium couldn't stop chanting his name
Even after the whistle
After the match
A Spanish journalist wrote
This boy plays like he's already lived a thousand matches
With the hunger of someone still chasing his first
Sir Alex pulled him aside quietly
Madrid's watching
So is Milan
So is Barcelona
Everyone's asking about you
Cristiano nodded
Let them ask
Let them wait
At night
He sat alone in his room
Watched old videos of himself on the streets of Madeira
Barefoot
Grinning
No audience
Just pure joy
He smiled
You came far
But not far enough
Every training session became a war zone
Not against teammates
Against limits
He'd finish last
Leave sweating buckets
Then run laps again
Every time someone told him to rest
He answered the same
Rest is for the satisfied
The semi finals loomed
And the entire continent had one question
Can Cristiano do it again?
But in his mind
There was no "if"
There was only one truth
I'm not here to prove
I'm here to take