Category: Portugal

Oh no, not another Cristiano Ronaldo column. Well, what else could it be? Who else could it be? How about André Ayew, whose goal made it 1-1 and made a wild match of a night that, until then, really hadn’t been? João Félix, who clipped in a lovely shot to put Portugal back into the lead? Rafael Leão, perhaps, guiding his first touch into the net. There was Osman Bukari, scoring with two minutes to go – well, 10 – and at the end Iñaki Williams, with a flash of cunning that caught out everyone; that almost saw Ghana catch a break, too.

Sneaking up behind the Portugal goalkeeper, Diogo Costa, Williams stole the ball from his feet in the last minute, the chance to end this 3-3 suddenly appearing, an entire stadium gasping, only to slip as he turned back towards goal.

Still unable to believe it long after the final whistle, that was the most extraordinary, most absurd moment of what almost turned out to be an unexpectedly extraordinary match. And yet the moment belonged to Ronaldo, not least because somehow it was always going to.

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Perhaps because we make it so. But history had been made after all. And even if it hadn’t, well, it’s him. An hour had gone when Ronaldo ran into the left side of the area. He was beaten to the ball by Mohammed Salisu, or so it seemed. As they came together, though, Ronaldo tumbled and the referee blew for a penalty. And so there he was, in his place, his moment. It was one they had waited for, too. In front of him, phones were held up, cameras ready, capturing not just a piece of history but a piece of theatre.

Standing on the spot and in the spotlight again, as if he ever really left it, Ronaldo put the ball down. He looked up then down again, and closed his eyes for some time. He took big, deep breaths, blew out hard, then skipped to his left, ran up and struck the penalty high into the net, just above the keeper’s hand. He did say he was bulletproof. It was his 819th career goal – eight hundred and nineteenth, for goodness sake – and his 118th for Portugal.

It also made him the first man to score at five World Cups: one against Iran in 2006, one against North Korea in 2010, one against Ghana in 2014, three against Spain, one against Morocco in 2018, and now this. He ran and leapt into the air, that familiar routine. Altogether now. Arms outstretched, as he came down, 40,000 people joined him in saying it: Siuuu! This is what they had come for. Some of them had been practising too.

The buildup had been dominated by the fallout in Manchester, to the extent of the doors to Portugal’s training camp having to be closed. The exhaustion at fielding endless questions was palpable, the claims that none of it mattered barely credible. And none of that reduced the attention on him; it may even have enhanced it, increased the awareness that this, here, is a last chance. The walk to the stadium was lined with Portugal shirts, seven on the back. More than all the rest put together. En route, a dad was busy telling his sons how to siuuu. Turned out, that would come in useful.

“I believe Portugal is the best team at this World Cup,” Ronaldo said. Look at the team, and maybe you can see it through the quality of the clubs they represent. Look and you see something else too. Porto, Manchester City, Manchester City, Paris Saint-Germain, Dortmund, Manchester United, Wolves, Porto, Manchester City, Atlético Madrid, unemployed. Yet still it was him they had come for. His was the only name really cheered when the teams were read out, the only name chanted too.

As they lined up before the game, he shook hands with a small kid in the tunnel. The kid, turning to the child alongside, blurted out: “Oh my god!” They went out and Ronaldo stood for the national anthem, then stood for a long drink, a line of cameras looking at him – which may have been why. His back turned to them, you could already picture the photos being captured. Say my name. Oh, they would. They might have done sooner in fact: it is not that Ronaldo could have got three here, it is that maybe he should have.

One chance was blocked by the keeper, another header went wide from close range. But then the moment came and from the spot, something almost symbolic: perhaps this game, his game, being decided like this when little else had happened. There was not much football, but Ronaldo won it. Sound familiar? Only he hadn’t. Barney Ronay had warned us to fast-forward to the moment when he won it with a late penalty. It came early, but it wasn’t so far off. Until, out of nowhere, it was. Suddenly, somehow, there were three goals, a real game. By then Ronaldo had been withdrawn to applause and with the score at 3-1. From the bench he watched Bukari score to make it 3-2, run to the corner, leap into the air and, yes, perform a siuuu of his own.

A stodgy contest morphed into a thriller and, cutting through it all, Cristiano Ronaldo managed to own the story. At times it felt most of the stadium was willing him to score and they were ecstatic to see their wish granted when he converted a penalty midway through the second half, becoming the first player to score at five different World Cups. Against most expectations it opened the floodgates, André Ayew equalising for a decent Ghana side before João Félix and Rafael Leão responded quickly with clinical finishes. Osman Bukari’s late goal was not enough to capture the headlines for Ghana.

Record-breaker or not, the chances of Ronaldo facilitating a narrative that did not concern him were always going to be vanishingly small. Before kick-off he had stood directly in front of the throng of photographers present to aid analysis of his every spit and cough; he must surely have known what he was doing as he faced in the opposite direction, that number seven in full view of the lenses, while taking a drink.

Equally there was never much chance he would absent himself from the on-pitch action although he would probably have planned happier outcomes from two early chances that, at full tilt, he would surely have buried. He was played onside by Alidu Seidu for the first, which saw Otávio send him into yards of space. There was time as well as open grass but a heavy first touch allowed Lawrence Ati-Zigi to block his effort.

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It was a good opportunity but had nothing on his second. When Raphaël Guerreiro crossed from the left, Ronaldo leapt with the awesome power and certainty that bring only one outcome. Ati-Zigi should have had no chance but was saved by a glitch in the matrix: from four yards, Ronaldo somehow headed wide of his left post.

Only 13 minutes had been played but Ghana did not look especially keen to deviate from their plan to sit deep, often with a flat back five, and seek rare opportunities on the break. It brought scant reward before the interval, partly because of Mohammed Kudus’s inability to exploit promising positions. Kudus could have sent Iñaki Williams, a high-profile newcomer to the cause, clear midway through the half but undercooked his attempted pass.

Ghana have the tournament’s youngest squad but began to discover some defensive savoir-faire. Portugal probed but ran aground against a back line marshalled by Leicester’s Daniel Amartey and Mohammed Salisu of Southampton. Ronaldo found the net shortly after the half-hour, to the short-lived delight of the thousands expecting a show, but was penalised for a push on Alexander Djiku.

Félix spooned over and João Cancelo sent a ball fizzing across but, when the teams went back in, Portugal could reflect that their performance had deteriorated since Ronaldo’s aberrations. Ghana had gained enough confidence to win a couple of corners, even if they did not manage an attempt on Diogo Costa’s goal.

Seidu sent over a dangerous cross in the 52nd minute and, moments later, Kudus broke through the middle before sending a daisy cutter wide. There was the sense a toe-to-toe contest had broken out. Ronaldo tried to correct that impression but, briefly offered room down the left, could not channel the pace that has long deserted him.

Portugal’s bench howled for a red card when Félix went down after a coming together with Seidu but the officials chose not to inflate the incident. They were soon worked more briskly. Ronaldo appeared to have been slow on his heels again but snicked a toe on the ball just before Salisu could make contact on the left side of the box. Ghana protested; his fall had been dramatic but a decision in his favour was just about correct. Ronaldo thrashed the spot-kick past Ati-Zigi, let the public lap up his trademark celebration and ensured a meandering Portugal were off the hook.

Or so it seemed. Ghana had been marginally the better side since the break and showed no ill effects. Kudus warmed Costa’s palms and then, found in space, arrowed across a centre that ricocheted through Danilo Pereira’s legs and gave Ayew a tap-in. Ronaldo waved his arms in the air.

He need not have worried. Within seven minutes Portugal had the game won, both times capitalising on loose Ghana possession and breaking at speed. Bruno Fernandes was the catalyst, first threading a ball through to Félix that Baba Rahman could not cut out. Félix is having a mediocre time with Atlético Madrid but here his clipped execution was exemplary. Within seconds Fernandes had driven through midfield and slipped in Leão, who announced himself on this stage with a bending low finish with his first significant touch after coming on.

Ronaldo was promptly withdrawn, affording him his latest ovation, but the substitute Bukari’s smart header postponed the victory lap. A frantic finish ensued, Williams robbing Costa before slipping, but Portugal held on.