Who Truly Deserves the Title of Greatest Soccer Player of All Time?

Watching the Tropang Giga clinch that Commissioner’s Cup last Friday in a nail-biting 87-83 Game 7 finish against Barangay Ginebra, I couldn’t help but think about greatness—not just in basketball, but in the sport I’ve loved since I was a kid: soccer. That game had everything—tension, drama, a last-minute push—and it reminded me of those legendary soccer matches where one player rises above the rest to define an era. So, let’s dive into a debate that’s been raging in bars, living rooms, and online forums for decades: who truly deserves the title of the greatest soccer player of all time?

Now, I’ll be honest—I’ve always leaned toward Lionel Messi. There’s something magical about the way he moves with the ball, almost like it’s glued to his feet. I remember watching him in the 2015 Champions League semifinal against Bayern Munich, where he scored two goals in three minutes, including that iconic dribble past Jérôme Boateng that left the defender stumbling. Messi’s stats are mind-boggling; he’s netted over 700 career goals and provided more than 300 assists, numbers that feel almost fictional. But it’s not just the numbers—it’s the consistency. Year after year, he’s delivered, whether for Barcelona, Paris Saint-Germain, or Argentina, and his 2022 World Cup win felt like the final stamp on a legendary career. To me, Messi embodies creativity and humility, a player who lets his feet do the talking, much like how the Tropang Giga relied on teamwork and precision in their championship run.

But then, you can’t ignore Cristiano Ronaldo. If Messi is the artist, Ronaldo is the machine—relentless, powerful, and driven by an insatiable hunger to win. I’ve followed his career from his early days at Manchester United, where he scored 42 goals in the 2007-08 season, to his dominant years at Real Madrid, where he shattered records with 450 goals in just 438 appearances. What stands out to me is his adaptability; he’s excelled in England, Spain, Italy, and even Saudi Arabia, proving that greatness isn’t confined to one league. Ronaldo’s athleticism is off the charts—his leap for that iconic header against Sampdoria in 2019 defied physics, and his work ethic is the stuff of legend. In many ways, he reminds me of the Barangay Ginebra players in that Game 7—fierce, never-say-die competitors who push until the final whistle. Yet, as much as I admire his drive, I’ve always felt his style is more about raw power than the subtle artistry that draws me to the game.

Then there’s Pelé, the name that echoes through history. Growing up, I’d hear stories from my dad about Pelé’s 1,279 career goals and three World Cup wins, feats that seemed almost mythical. Watching old footage, I was struck by his flair and innovation—the dribbles, the bicycle kicks, the sheer joy he brought to the pitch. In the 1970 World Cup final, his assist to Carlos Alberto for Brazil’s fourth goal was a masterpiece of vision and timing. But here’s the thing: soccer was different back then. The game was slower, defenses weren’t as organized, and the level of global competition wasn’t as intense. While Pelé’s legacy is untouchable, I find it hard to compare him directly to modern giants like Messi or Ronaldo, just as it’s tough to compare the Tropang Giga’s win to classic basketball eras—the context changes everything.

Let’s not forget Diego Maradona, whose 1986 World Cup performance alone could make a case for greatness. That “Hand of God” goal followed by the “Goal of the Century” against England captured his duality—flawed genius, capable of moments that felt both divine and human. I’ve rewatched that run against England countless times; it’s like poetry in motion, a burst of individual brilliance that defined an entire tournament. Maradona’s impact on Napoli, leading them to two Serie A titles in a league dominated by giants, shows how one player can elevate a team—similar to how a star player in the PBA can turn a series on its head. But his off-field struggles and shorter peak period leave me wondering if he had the longevity to claim the top spot.

In the end, this debate isn’t just about stats or trophies—it’s about what we value in the sport. Do we prize consistency and records, like Ronaldo’s five Ballon d’Or awards and Messi’s eight? Or do we lean toward transformative moments, like Maradona’s 1986 run or Pelé’s global ambassadorship? For me, it’s the blend of artistry and impact that seals it. Messi’s ability to weave through defenses and create something from nothing, much like the Tropang Giga’s strategic plays in that tight Game 7, resonates with my love for the beautiful game’s subtlety. But I get why others might pick Ronaldo for his sheer dominance or Pelé for his historic achievements. Ultimately, the greatest player is the one who inspires you to fall in love with soccer over and over again—and for me, that’s Messi, the little genius who made the impossible look easy.