The boy from Madeira. Skinny, freckled, spindly-legged, with placid, tiny eyes and untamed hair. This was Cristiano Ronaldo before he became Sporting’s wunderkind, Manchester United’s prize-horse, Real Madrid’s colossus, the Saudi league’s identity and one of football’s immortals.

In the humble neighbourhood of Quinta do Falcão, he was always the son of Aveiro. His father put in shifts as kit man for the local football club, C.F. Andorinha. He served drinks in the club’s small bar. When dusk sank, he shifted to the other side of the table, clinging to his drink. “I always feared my father, so we never had a strong bond. He battled alcoholism and died from cirrhosis, which is why I vowed never to drink alcohol,” Ronaldo said in a public function after his father’s death at 52.

Ronaldo was 20 then, and his biggest regret was that his father could never watch him become the footballer he became. At the bar, the old man used to tell his friends that his son would be famous.…