An ode to a Devil

When we first saw you in action, it was magic

The stepovers, the flicks, the tricks, we insisted that the gaffer sign you on

From the land of Portugal you came, to brighten the terrible English weather

You sparkled at times, fell spectacularly mostly, and yet produced magic that confunded the best of defenders

Others said you were a cheat, a boy with a penchant for mischief and a terrible hairstyle

We said you could do it, gave you the number 7 after ol' Becks left

It was a tough few years, til the World Cups came

You tumbled on the ground, ol' Wazza let loose his breath and saw red

Then came the wink, the boos and the jeers

Wazza left it in the past, so did you, and with each boo you ran faster

With each jeer you thumped the ball harder

And finally you showed the world who you really were

Those blazing free-kicks, the lightning headers, feet that dazzled, speed to rival the roadrunner

And those goals, those wondrous 42 goals, and with it came cups, trophies and honours

Heads were turned, from Spain and hitherto.

You were drawn, yet stayed for another year

We were glad, but knew that you would eventually leave someday

And so you did.

Cristiano Ronaldo, we thank you for those magnificent displays that you put in for us. We will not miss you, nor will we rue your absence, but we truly wish you well.

Rio and Co. will be eager to have a go at you should we ever meet again.

P.S Tell Ruud that he left behind his old socks when you get there, will ya?