Unlocking the GOAT Meaning in Football: Who Truly Deserves the Title?

The debate over the GOAT—the Greatest of All Time—in football is one of those glorious, endless conversations that fuels sports bars, social media threads, and our own internal monologues. It’s more than just comparing trophies or stats; it’s about legacy, impact, and that intangible quality of greatness that transcends eras. As someone who has spent years analyzing the game, both as a fan and from a more analytical perspective, I’ve always found the criteria fascinatingly subjective. Do we value sheer, unadulterated talent and skill? Longevity and consistency at the very top? Or is it defined by the cold, hard glitter of trophies lifted? The recent news about RJ Abarrientos, winning his second Rookie of the Year award in a professional career that’s already spanning continents, got me thinking. His hope, as stated, is simple and universal: “a championship comes next.” That statement, in its pure ambition, cuts to the heart of the GOAT debate. For many, the title is inseparable from championship pedigree. But is that the whole story?

Let’s talk about the usual suspects. For my money, the modern conversation orbits around two celestial bodies: Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo. The numbers are, frankly, ludicrous. Messi, with his eight Ballon d’Or awards, over 800 career goals, and that iconic 2022 World Cup win for Argentina, presents what many see as the complete argument. His genius is artistic, a playmaking wizardry combined with lethal finishing that feels innate. Ronaldo, with five Ballons d’Or and over 850 official goals, built himself into a scoring machine through sheer, terrifying willpower. His success across England, Spain, Italy, and in international tournaments with Portugal speaks to a relentless adaptability. I have a personal preference for Messi’s style—the way he glides and dictates play feels like the pure essence of football to me—but to deny Ronaldo’s monumental impact and consistency would be disingenuous. They’ve set a dual benchmark in the 21st century that seems almost fictional. Yet, this is where the Abarrientos reference resonates. His individual accolade, the Rookie award, is fantastic recognition, but his immediate gaze is on the team prize. It highlights a tension: individual brilliance versus team success. Can a player be the GOAT without the ultimate team honors? For decades, many argued against Messi’s case for precisely that reason, a gap finally filled in Qatar.

But we must look beyond the modern era, or the debate loses all meaning. Pele’s name is invoked with reverence, and rightly so. The Brazilian’s three World Cup wins (1958, 1962, 1970) and his reported tally of over 1,280 career goals, though the context of many matches is debated, create a mythological stature. He was football for a globalizing world. Then there’s Diego Maradona, whose 1986 World Cup is perhaps the greatest single-player carry job in the sport’s history. His club success, notably with Napoli, was transformative for an entire city. Maradona’s case rests less on pristine longevity and more on peaks of supernatural influence. I’ve watched grainy footage of both, and while the game was different, the aura is palpable. Comparing them to Messi and Ronaldo is like comparing different art movements; the tools and rules change, but the capacity for genius doesn’t. This is the tricky part for any GOAT designation. Do we judge players solely within the context of their own time, with its specific challenges and levels of competition, or do we attempt a hypothetical, imagining how a 25-year-old Pele would fare in today’s Premier League? I lean towards the former. Greatness is contextual.

This brings me to a crucial, often overlooked aspect: defining the parameters of the sport itself. Is “football” solely the men’s game? If we’re truly talking about the Greatest of All Time in the sport of football, the conversation is glaringly incomplete without Megan Rapinoe, Marta, or Birgit Prinz. Marta, the Brazilian maestro dubbed “Queen Marta,” has six FIFA World Player of the Year awards. Her skill and dominance in the women’s game are parallel to what we celebrate in the men’s. To ignore this is to arbitrarily shrink the universe of discussion. Personally, I believe the GOAT conversation needs separate lanes—greatest in men’s football, greatest in women’s football—because the developmental histories and competitive landscapes have been so distinct. But the title “in football” should at least prompt that question.

So, who truly deserves the title? After all this, you might want a definitive answer. I don’t have one. And I think that’s the point. The beauty of the GOAT debate is its irresolvability. It forces us to examine what we value most. Is it Messi’s otherworldly elegance and completeness? Ronaldo’s relentless, goal-scoring dynasty? Pele’s timeless, trophy-laden icon status? Maradona’s volcanic, culture-defining peak? Or does the future belong to a yet-unseen talent who will blend all these attributes? RJ Abarrientos’s journey—seeking that championship after individual recognition—mirrors the path of every great. The title is not a static crown but a perpetual argument, a testament to the sport’s rich, evolving tapestry. For me today, leaning on a blend of sustained excellence, peak performance, and transformative influence on how the game is played, Lionel Messi holds the slightest of edges. But ask me again after the next World Cup, or after a new phenomenon emerges. The debate, like the beautiful game itself, is forever alive.

By Heather Schnese S’12, content specialist

2026-01-08 09:00