Watching clips of the real Ronaldo up against his spoilt bastard namesake puts the game in stark contrast to what it was.
The real Ronaldo is one of those players from that generation of players that had an almost mythical quality to them. Growing up, there was that sense of wonder from players like him that you just don't get today.
Maybe it's because I'm an adult now, but the game loses a lot by its over saturation in the mass media with easy access to all games and emphasis on players being social media personalities. I'd be lucky to watch Ronaldo in a game outside of a World Cup, relying on one of his teams to play an English club in the Champions League or UEFA Cup so that ITV would show it (I only grew up with four terrestrial channels). And social media has turned players from almost gladiatorial mythical figures into shallow corporate shrills. It's sucked the wonder and curiosity out of the game for me.
It made the match ups with Liverpool even more fascinating. The sense of occasion you got when Liverpool played against big teams and players on the continent was palpable, the idea of our lads going up against these mythical figures and then beating them gave a sense of elation like nothing else. It's likely aging, losing innocence and wide eyed wonderment that makes me think so cynically about the game today, but I still crave for that mystique to the game that has long gone. That journey and sense of discovery, and the infrequent glimpses of these great teams and players that sparked the imagination, that's where the fun was. Maybe the game wasn't better and maybe the players weren't necessarily superior human beings either, but that naivety made it worth believing in it. Everyone needs stories to believe in. Having all the football and more than I could ever imagine at my fingertips is not nearly as fulfilling or meaningful.
