In Riyadh, surrounded by trophies, memories, and questions only time can answer, Cristiano Ronaldo opens up about legacy, love, and what life looks like when you have already conquered everything.
Opening Scene – A Billionaire in a Man Cave
Riyadh hums quietly outside, a city of sand and steel that feels both ancient and futuristic, much like Cristiano Ronaldo himself. Inside his home, in a space he calls his man cave, the lights are soft, the tone even softer. Piers Morgan leans forward, a familiar smirk forming. “Cristiano, how are you?”
Ronaldo smiles. “I’m good, my friend. And you?”
It is a ritual between them. Every few years they meet again, each time with more layers to peel back. The last interview was fiery, even explosive. This one, he promises, will be different. “This time,” he grins, “I’ll be a good man.”
There is laughter, but behind it, the weight of two decades at football’s highest altitude. At 39, Cristiano Ronaldo is no longer simply a footballer. He is an empire in motion, a living museum of ambition, grief, and glory. Yet here, in his own home, he feels like a man trying to make peace with his own reflection.
Act I: The Past and What Might Have Been
He chuckles when Morgan brings up Arsenal. “Ah, you never forget,” Ronaldo says. It is the story every Arsenal fan knows by heart. Before Manchester United, there was a meeting, a near-deal, a chance for Ronaldo to wear red in North London instead of Manchester.
“I was nearly there,” he admits. “I met Arsène Wenger. It was all agreed.”
Then came that fateful friendly between Sporting Lisbon and Manchester United. Ronaldo shredded John O’Shea so ruthlessly that four senior players begged Sir Alex Ferguson not to leave Portugal without signing him. “True story,” he nods.
It is football’s greatest “what if.” Ronaldo laughs, but you sense the humility in hindsight. “When I look at Arsenal, I like when they win because I was nearly there. But life and football are about moments.”
That word, moments, hangs in the air. Few have owned more of them than he has: the goals, the medals, the tears, the fury, the endless chase for perfection. But time has turned the once-ruthless prodigy into something gentler. When Morgan presses him about Manchester United’s decline, there is no anger, just disappointment.
“They have no structure,” he says. “Manchester United needs smart people who can see the future. It’s one of the most important clubs in the world, but right now they are not on the right path.”
He still watches the results. It still hurts. “That club is in my heart. I won the Champions League there, the Ballon d’Or there. But we must be honest. They are not in a good way.”
It is a strange tenderness, critique laced with affection, honesty softened by history. The 18-year-old who once lit up Old Trafford is still inside him. Only now, the boy who wanted to be the best has become the man who wants to be understood.
Act II: The Billionaire Mindset
When Bloomberg named him football’s first billionaire, Ronaldo didn’t blink. “It’s not true,” he said, then paused. “I’ve been a billionaire for years.”
He laughs as he says it, but there is no arrogance, only awareness. “I knew this would happen. I planned it. It was one of my goals.”
For Ronaldo, wealth is no accident. It is a strategy. “I have people around me who help — advisors, investors. But I know everything that happens. It’s my life, my money. I’m in control.”
He does not hide his pride. “When I reached that number, I was happy. It’s like winning a Ballon d’Or. You make your own goals — a house, a car, a family. For me, one goal was to reach that financial level. But after some time, money doesn’t matter anymore. It’s human nature — we always want more — but there are things more important.”
He gestures to the world around him: the walls, the trophies, the silence between questions. “Money gives you comfort, but not happiness. I’ve learned that.”
Yet comfort, for Ronaldo, still comes in extraordinary forms. A private jet. A garage filled with Bugattis and Mercedes. But even here, he seems detached — an observer of his own abundance. “I had my plane for ten years. I changed it recently. It’s comfort, not passion. Cars? I have maybe fifty. But they are investments now. I don’t drive them. I’m not that man anymore.”
He pauses, reflective. “When you’re young, you want to show success. Now, I want peace.”
He quotes Carl Jung: “After forty, you begin to really live.” For Ronaldo, that means fewer luxuries and more meaning. “I don’t care about public opinion anymore. People can say I’m arrogant, I don’t care. I just want to live happy, to do what I love, to train, score goals, and enjoy my family.”
It is strange, hearing the world’s most famous athlete talk about normality. But in the calm cadence of his voice, you believe him.
Act III: Love, Loss, and Growth
For a moment, the billionaire, the global icon, the 900-goal machine disappears. What remains is a father, a partner, a man who has been broken before.
When Morgan brings up Georgina Rodríguez, Ronaldo’s expression softens. “I’m not a romantic guy,” he admits, laughing. “But she is the love of my life.”
He tells the story of the proposal with boyish charm. No grand stage, no paparazzi. Just a quiet night at home, their daughters asleep upstairs. “My daughters came down and said, ‘Daddy, give mommy the ring!’ And I said, yes, now is the moment.”
It wasn’t planned. “It came natural,” he smiles. “Like football, like life. The good things come at the right time.”
He speaks of Georgina with affection that cuts through the usual celebrity polish. “She takes care of me, the family, the house. That’s not easy. Men can’t handle that — I couldn’t. She’s beautiful, yes, but more important, she understands me.”
They have survived the unthinkable — the loss of a baby son. When Morgan mentions it, Ronaldo’s voice lowers. “It was a very difficult period,” he says. “But we supported each other. That made us stronger. Even in the worst moments, you must keep moving.”
He smiles as he talks about their daughter Bella, three years old now. “She’s the queen of the house. She makes everyone happy. Everything happens for a reason.”
There is a philosophy to his pain — a lesson earned, not learned. “In bad moments and good moments, find balance. Always come back to the basics.”
In a life defined by extremes, it sounds like wisdom from someone finally comfortable with the middle ground.
Act IV: Legacy and Beyond Football
When you have scored 948 goals, what is left to chase?
“I still feel the same when I score,” Ronaldo says. “The happiness is still there. I love to compete. I love to train. That’s what keeps me young.”
But he knows the clock is ticking. “Retirement? Soon. It will be difficult. I’ll cry, yes. I’m emotional. But I’ve prepared for this since I was 25.”
That preparation is not just financial — it is psychological. “Football gives you adrenaline. Nothing compares. But I’m ready. I’ll spend more time with family, raise my kids, watch Cristiano Jr. I’ll learn new things, new businesses, new hobbies.”
He lights up when talking about padel — a sport he plays with close friends — and his fascination with esports. “It’s the future,” he says. “I’m ambassador for the eGames here in Saudi. It’s a great event. I’m proud to be part of it.”
Even his ventures carry his signature discipline. “Real estate, YouTube, fragrance — I like to challenge myself. I’m always learning, not just in business, but in life.”
You sense he is building something far beyond football. The same drive that turned a skinny teenager from Madeira into the most recognisable athlete on the planet now fuels his second act, one measured not in goals but in growth.
Closing Reflection: The Man in the Mirror
There is a moment, late in the interview, when Morgan tells him he is surprisingly normal. Ronaldo laughs, but does not disagree. “I think I’m normal,” he says. “I don’t care what people think. I just want to be happy, to do what I love.”
It is a simple statement, yet it lands differently. For a man who has lived inside constant noise — headlines, cameras, chants, critics — normality has become the rarest luxury.
He still dreams. He still plans. But the hunger has evolved. “Money, records, trophies — they come when you perform. But peace? That’s something you must find yourself.”
He looks around his Riyadh home, at the stillness he has earned. “I’m enjoying this period of my life,” he says. “I see life differently now. And I’m happy.”
As the cameras fade, you get the sense that Cristiano Ronaldo, the perfectionist, the competitor, the machine, has finally made peace with the man in the mirror. Not because he has nothing left to prove, but because he has finally learned that he does not need to.
