Is Liking Cristiano Ronaldo a Social Sin on HuPu? My Data-Driven Take as a Sports Analyst

The Myth of the “Correct” GoAT

Let’s cut through the noise: in any sport, there is no single “correct” GOAT. Not basketball. Not tennis. Not football.

I’ve spent years modeling performance trends across leagues—NBA playoff projections, Champions League win probabilities—and yet when it comes to fandom? Numbers fail me.

I’m not talking about stats-driven debates (though I love those). I’m talking about emotional allegiance. You can respect Messi’s 8 Ballon d’Ors and still prefer Ronaldo’s 5 UEFA Champions League titles—not because one is objectively better, but because his style hits different.

Why Your Favorite Player Isn’t “Wrong”

Last week on HuPu, someone said liking Ronaldo was ‘basic’ unless you were also into his legacy of resilience and late-game heroics.

That took me aback.

Would we tell a classical music fan they’re somehow less valid because they also love hip-hop? Of course not.

Fan identity isn’t binary. You can appreciate Jordan’s six rings and still feel that extra spark when Michael Jordan steps into the court in ‘98 — even if he didn’t win that year.

Same logic applies here.

The Invisible Hierarchy of Fan Credibility

There’s an unspoken caste system online: fans of ‘undisputed’ legends (Messi/Jordan) are seen as elite; those leaning toward controversial figures (Ronaldo/Nadal) are dismissed as biased or shallow.

But here’s the truth no algorithm tracks: you don’t need validation from others to have worth in your fandom.

I’ve analyzed over 120K match logs from Premier League games since 2010—and I still get goosebumps watching Ronaldo score from outside the box in 2018. That moment wasn’t about winning; it was about willpower written in motion.

And yes—I know he didn’t win that season with Juventus. But does that erase the beauty? Nope. It just means I’m emotionally invested in something beyond metrics—the human drama behind the game.

Craving Belonging? Don’t Sell Your Soul for It

We all want community—but some seek it by conforming instead of connecting. If your connection to sport is based on what everyone else thinks… then you’re missing out on authenticity itself. You don’t need permission from HuPu—or ESPN—to admire someone who inspires you personally. Even if their legacy doesn’t align with mainstream consensus, you’re allowed to find meaning where others don’t see it. The beauty lies precisely in that diversity of taste, in that quiet rebellion against groupthink, in choosing your own champion—even if history says otherwise.