So here we are. Portugal versus Uzbekistan in a World Cup group stage fixture that, on paper, should be a straightforward procession for Fernando Sant...
So here we are. Portugal versus Uzbekistan in a World Cup group stage fixture that, on paper, should be a straightforward procession for Fernando Santos' men. And yet, as the warm up drills on the Lusail pitch, there is a lingering sense that this Portuguese side is carrying more than just a nation's hopes on their shoulders. They are carrying a reputation they have not earned, but have certainly invited.One reader, Justin Kavanagh, has already fired a shot across the bows ahead of kick off, and frankly, his aim is true. Between Cristiano Ronaldo's endless narcissism and Bruno Fernandes' unrelenting narkyism, Portugal have become a hard team to like. That is a damning indictment for a nation that gave us the silk of Deco, the guile of Rui Costa, and the sheer bloody mindedness of Eusébio. Now, we have a squad dripping with talent but dripping with something far less pleasant: attitude.Let's talk about the elephant in the room. Ronaldo is 41 years old. Forty one. He is still the protagonist of every scene, still demanding the ball, still sulking when the pass doesn't come, still the centre of a tactical universe that revolves around a fading sun. And what does the man in the dugout do He lets it happen. The coach's lack of backbone in dropping a player who, by any objective measure, should be enjoying a testimonial lap rather than leading the line for a World Cup contender is staggering. Is it fear Is it commercial pressure Or is it simply the inertia of a manager who has decided the path of least resistance is the safest routeBruno Fernandes, meanwhile, seems to have mistaken petulance for passion. His constant arm waving, his sniping at teammates, his refusal to accept that a misplaced pass is part of the game; it all adds a sour note to a midfield that should be orchestrating symphonies. Instead, we get a soundtrack of whinging and finger pointing. It's a shame because, as Justin rightly notes, Portugal are a country with a fine footballing tradition. They have graced many international competitions with class and style. This current iteration, however, feels like a parody of itself. A collection of individuals playing for themselves, rather than for the badge.And yet, the worrying thing is that it could get worse. Much worse. If the whispers from Lisbon are to be believed, the next World Cup cycle will see José Mourinho take the reins. A man who specialises in siege mentalities, in dividing the world into us and them, in creating drama where none exists. Pair that with a squad that already resembles a reality TV show cast list, and you have the makings of a glorious car crash. Or, perhaps, a glorious redemption story. Football is funny that way.For now, though, the job is Uzbekistan. A side that will sit deep, hope for a set piece, and try to frustrate the Portuguese ego. If Ronaldo and Fernandes can keep the sulking to a minimum and focus on the football, there is still enough quality here to go deep. But the question remains: can a team so hard to like ever truly be loved when it matters most We are about to find out.
