The goals kept coming but so did the bruises
Every match felt like a war
Not just against opponents
But against expectations
They cheered when he scored
But they jeered louder when he missed
One bad game
And suddenly the media called him selfish again
Overrated
Flashy but no substance
Cristiano said nothing
But inside
He was boiling
One night after a match he didn't play well
He skipped the team dinner
Locked himself in the gym until 2am
The lights were dim
His muscles screamed
His knuckles bled from punching the resistance pad too hard
"Why?"
He whispered between gasps
"Why isn't it enough yet?"
He had done everything
Sprinted more
Ate better
Trained longer
But still
It felt like the bar kept moving
Sir Alex walked in quietly
He didn't say a word at first
Just leaned on the wall and watched
After a minute
He spoke
"You think this is where greatness lives?
In punishment?"
Cristiano looked up
His eyes bloodshot
His shirt drenched
"Pain is part of the journey
But not the destination"
Cristiano stayed silent
Sir Alex stepped closer
"I didn't bring you here to burn out
I brought you here to break the game
But you can't do that if you destroy yourself first"
Then he walked away
Cristiano sat down on the mat
Breathing
Thinking
He realized something
He was trying to prove too much
To the critics
The fans
Even to himself
But the fire inside couldn't be extinguished
It just needed direction
That night
He didn't train harder
He went home
He rested
For the first time in weeks
And in the silence of his room
He wrote a new line in his notebook
"Don't just fight
Conquer with purpose"
The obsession was still there
But now
It had control