The Champions League knockouts were coming
But something shifted
Cristiano started feeling it
Not in his legs
In his mind
Every time he looked in the mirror
He didn't just see himself
He saw his mom's tired eyes
His father's broken hands
His island
His past
And now
The whole world watching
In training he snapped at teammates
Screamed when passes missed
Demanded perfection from everyone
Even himself
He wasn't trying to be cruel
He just couldn't accept anything less
The staff called it passion
The players called it pressure
Cristiano didn't call it anything
He just kept working
But deep inside
He started asking questions
What if I fail?
What if this is all I get?
What if I'm just a moment?
That fear didn't break him
It sharpened him
Before every match
He whispered to himself in the tunnel
You came from nothing
You've got nothing to lose
So play like it
One match at Old Trafford
A reporter shouted before kickoff
Do you feel pressure with the world watching?
Cristiano smirked
No
The world should feel pressure watching me
That night he scored again
Ran the wing like it was his backyard
Played like the game belonged to him
And for those 90 minutes
It did
After the final whistle
He didn't celebrate
He looked up at the sky again
Not just for his parents
But for the boy he used to be
The boy who kicked a sock stuffed with paper on the streets of Madeira
He hadn't forgotten
He never would