Unruly precedents and Jasper Carrott: why Robert Lewandowski was robbed by Lionel Messi’s Ballon d’Or 2021 win

Here we have one of the finest centre-forwards Europe has ever produced - Poland’s record goal-scorer with a personal trophy haul that would make the Smithsonian do a double-take - and he looks destined to be consigned to the history books as one of the also-rans who toiled away their entire careers in the shadow of Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo.

In any other era of football, Lewandowski probably would have had his own day in the sun already, resplendent and peerless, sat atop the summit of the professional game. Instead, this bizarre, hyperbolic duopoly has forced him to settle for a spot on the periphery - very much the Michelle to Messi and Ronaldo’s Kelly and Beyonce.

Yet still, in spite of the looming, omnipotent contemporaries with which he has to rub shoulders, there’s a steadily mounting hubbub from some quarters who argue that he should have received a greater tranche of recognition by now - and perhaps on more than one occasion too.

I’m referring, of course, to his lack of Ballon d’Or, a golden ball so controversial and divisive that they should give the annual presenting gig to Jasper Carrott.

For two years now, Lewandowski has probably been the best player in world football, and for two years he has been hamstrung by power and circumstance far beyond his control.

In 2020, for reasons unbeknown, France Football took the decision to cancel the Ballon d’Or entirely. That’s not to say that a global pandemic isn’t a valid excuse for nixing an awards ceremony, but if we can find a way of getting another NTA to Ant and Dec despite the inconveniences of social distancing, surely we can find a way of paying Lewandowski his dues too.

And while this year’s travesty might not have been as absolute, it was still unfathomable, verging on absurd.

So far in 2021, Lewandowski has scored 64 goals in 54 outings, as well as helping Bayern Munich to secure a Bundesliga title and a DFL Supercup.

If you were posting those kind of numbers on a video game, you’d probably be tempted to up the difficult setting by a notch or two.

By comparison, actual winner Messi has hit 41 goals in 56 matches, and played a considerable part in Copa del Rey and Copa America triumphs for Barcelona and Argentina respectively.

There are a couple of caveats to these widely-repeated details, of course.

It goes without saying that the Ballon d’Or shouldn’t simply be about bulging the onion bag, so to speak, on a regular basis - that’s why we have the Golden Boot.

But similarly, it’s becoming heavily implied - if not increasingly apparent - that a prerequisite for elite individual appreciation is tangible, polishable major tournament success.

Granted, there’s maybe a grain of logic nestled in there somewhere, but it’s a precedent that also runs the risk of disregarding swathes and swathes of talent who weren’t born in one of a very select few countries, or who haven’t been hoovered up by whichever filthy rich mega-club who happen to be riding the crest of European football’s swirling, eddying maelstrom in any given campaign.

It is worth reiterating, the reaction to Messi’s seventh Ballon d’Or win has not been one of universal outrage, nor should it be, necessarily speaking. After all, we’re talking about a player who continues to justifiably stake a claim for that most-heralded of farmyard titles, the GOAT.

By any metric, the preternatural Argentine had an outstanding year, extraordinary even.

The issue is that Lewandowski’s was beyond astounding, beyond superlatives. It wasn’t just the deluge of goals or the domestic dominance, he frequently ascended to a level of irresistible near-divinity.

Detractors, of which there are always a few speckled about like mould on a neglected block of cheddar, will try to diminish the Pole’s achievements by insisting that the Bundesliga is a “farmer’s league”.

This is a view solely propagated by a vapid, hormonal army of faceless Twitter accounts with avis of footballer mugshots screaming vacuous buzzwords like “ratio” and “fraud” into the gaping void of the internet with all the articulation and obstinate conviction of a faulty smoke alarm or a freshly-briefed Tory MP wheeled out for another dead-eyed verbal joust on breakfast television.

There is no substance to the opinion, just the white-knuckled belief that everybody other than their arbitrarily-chosen messiah is utterly crap.

Judging by the decision to snub Lewandowski in favour of Messi, there are perhaps a few journalists on the Ballon d’Or voting jury who hold a similarly blinkered mindset.

And before we get into a conversation about the fundamental nature of subjectivity, it’s bleedingly obvious that France Football felt they had screwed the pooch too, hurriedly bestowing Lewandowski with their inaugural “Striker of the Year” award - an afterthought of an accolade brimming with all the hastily-clobbered, last ditch acknowledgement of a petrol station bouquet on a forgotten wedding anniversary.

Sixty-four goals in 54 games and all the man got was a spray-painted poppadom.

For a long, long time, Messi and Ronaldo have held the upper echelons of the professional game in a tightly-cinched Full Nelson, swatting away pesky upstarts with an indifferent excellence that has, at times, appeared superhuman.

Even in 2018, Luka Modric’s Ballon d’Or win felt more like a begrudgingly tokenistic doff of the cap to Croatia’s World Cup heroics rather than a meaningful blip in the eternal Leo/CR7 grapple for supremacy.

Sooner or later though, everything must come to an end. Even this unprecedented dual hegemony will wane and crumble. Perhaps the long, slow sunset has already begun.

Ronaldo finished sixth in this year’s final standings, and Messi - crowned and anointed just a few short days ago - has only scored one goal in 505 minutes of Ligue 1 football since he signed for PSG over the summer.

It might sound ludicrous to suggest that the current holder is already on a downwards trajectory so soon after his coronation, but you can’t help feeling that next year’s title could be a much harder sell for Messi.

Deny it, ignore it, ridicule the very notion, but these two epoch-defining supernovas cannot last forever, and by trying to artificially elongate their reign - whether it be for nostalgic purposes, the call of habitual loyalty, or any number of other reasons - we threaten to rob players like Lewandowski, already 33 himself, of a fleeting chance to carve their names into the annals of history.

Nobody is asking for charity or pity, just credit where credit is due.

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