As a São Paulo tactician, I’ve watched both legends rise—but C Ronaldo’s relentless efficiency at 37 still haunts me more than any artistic flair. This isn’t about preference; it’s about structure, discipline, and the quiet math of greatness. Messi dazzles—the game flows like poetry. But Ronaldo? He turned stats into soul. I don’t need gold balls to prove it: his body was the system. And in Curitiba’s midnight matches, that truth never faded.