You’d think in an era of social media oversharing, we’d have screenshots of voting slips by now. Not a chance. The silence is deafening. But let’s be clear about this: the rivalry wasn’t just about stats or trophies. It was identity, legacy, pride. And that changes everything.
How Ballon d’Or Voting Actually Works: Who Holds the Power?
The process, run by France Football since 1956 (except a pandemic-induced pause in 2020), involves around 180 journalists from FIFA-recognized nations. Each submits a ranked list of their top five players. No coaches, no fans, no players—just reporters. That’s the official line. The system was reformed in 2007 to include national team captains and managers, but reverted to a press-only model in 2016. Points: 6 for first, 4 for second, 3 for third, 2 for fourth, 1 for fifth. The highest total wins. Simple math. Not so simple when national bias, media politics, and personal loyalties twist the needle.
And that’s where it gets murky. A Portuguese journalist might lean toward Ronaldo—not necessarily out of corruption, but familiarity. Same in Argentina for Messi. We’re far from it being a pure meritocracy. The system relies on integrity, yes, but also on human instinct, which is messy. One writer from Norway once admitted he voted for a player because “he smiled during interviews.” That’s not a joke. It happened in 2013.
The Journalist Factor: Are Ballots Truly Neutral?
Some voters have direct access to locker rooms. Others rely on footage and stats. The gap in perspective is massive. A reporter embedded with Real Madrid sees Ronaldo in training, hears his speeches, watches him miss penalties and still demand the ball. Another in Barcelona sees Messi, quiet, almost ghostlike, then explode into brilliance. These experiences shape perception. And perception shapes votes.
France Football doesn’t release individual ballots. Only the final tally. So we’re left guessing. But in 2018, a few slips leaked—unofficially—via a disgruntled editor in Eastern Europe. One showed Ronaldo not even in the top three. Another had Messi at number four. No Ronaldo vote visible. But none for Messi from a Portuguese outlet either. Coincidence? Maybe. But when pride’s on the line, patterns emerge.
Player Voting: What Changed Between 2007 and 2016?
Between 2007 and 2016, captains and head coaches of national teams joined the electorate. That’s when things got personal. Would Pep Guardiola have voted for Ronaldo? Marcelo Lippi for Messi? We don’t know. But that decade blurred the line between journalism and football politics. A manager might reward loyalty, not just performance. A captain might favor a teammate’s rival less. The voting pool expanded—but so did the noise.
In 2016, they reverted. Back to journalists only. “To restore purity,” said the editorial board. Skeptics called it damage control after a controversial 2015 win. Either way, player influence vanished. But only officially. Because behind closed doors, relationships matter. A journalist who once got an exclusive with CR7 might hesitate to rank him fourth. That’s not fraud. That’s human nature.
Did Ronaldo Ever Publicly Endorse Messi? The Rare Moments of Respect
Yes—but sparingly. In 2023, during an emotional interview after Messi joined Inter Miami, Ronaldo said: “He is a legend. What he has done for football cannot be erased.” A lifetime ago, in 2011, he once smiled and said, “We push each other.” But never, not once, has he said, “He should have won that year.” Or “I voted for him.” And that’s telling.
Because we’ve seen the opposite. In 2018, when Messi won La Liga but flopped in the Champions League, Ronaldo—fresh off a third straight UCL title with Real Madrid—declared, “Individual awards should reflect big stages.” Subtext? “I should’ve won.” The thing is, he didn’t need to name Messi. Everyone knew. That’s not bitterness. That’s competitive DNA.
But here’s the twist: in 2019, after Messi’s sixth Ballon d’Or, Ronaldo posted a tribute on Instagram. Just a photo. No caption. A black-and-white image of the two of them shaking hands at an award ceremony. Fans dissected it like the Zapruder film. Was it respect? Sarcasm? Nostalgia? To some, it looked like a salute. To others, a farewell. Either way, it wasn’t a vote. It wasn’t even a word.
Rivalry vs. Recognition: Why Voting for Your Rival Is a Psychological Hurdle
Imagine being Usain Bolt and having to rank Justin Gatlin first. Possible? Sure. Likely? Not unless you’re a saint. The psychology of rivalry makes impartiality nearly impossible. You train harder, sacrifice more, lose sleep—all to be better than one person. Then someone asks you to say, “Actually, he was better this year.” That’s asking for emotional surrender.
And yet, some do. In tennis, Federer voted for Nadal. Djokovic for Murray. But football isn’t tennis. It’s tribal. Club loyalty, national pride, media narratives—it all amplifies the divide. Ronaldo grew up in Madeira, poor, overlooked. Messi in Rosario, tiny, sickly, saved by Barcelona. Two underdog stories, but divergent paths. One built on power, the other on grace. To admit the other was better? It’s not just conceding a year. It’s rewriting your self-mythology.
People don’t think about this enough: Ronaldo’s entire brand is built on being the best. Not second. Not even second to Messi. He’s launched clothing lines, gyms, hotels, all under the banner of “Siuu”—a war cry, not a handshake. Voting for Messi? Symbolically, it would undercut the narrative he’s spent two decades selling.
Ballot Transparency: Should We Demand Open Voting?
Some argue yes. Let’s see the ballots. Make it like the Baseball Hall of Fame, where votes go public after 15 years. That would settle debates. We’d know if English journalists snubbed Messi, or if Portuguese ones overrated Ronaldo. But others warn: transparency kills honesty. If your editor is sponsored by Nike (Ronaldo’s brand), would you rank a Puma athlete (Messi) first? Not if you want your job.
France Football insists secrecy protects integrity. But it also protects bias. In 2013, a French journalist admitted he ranked Neymar third—before he’d even played a full season in Europe. Why? “Because he represents the future.” That’s not analysis. That’s speculation. And it carried 3 points in the final tally.
Open ballots wouldn’t solve everything. But they’d start conversations. We could track trends: Did South American voters favor Messi more consistently? Did Europeans lean toward Ronaldo’s glamour? We could measure bias, not just assume it. Right now, we’re guessing in the dark. And that’s not how modern sports should operate.
Did Other Stars Vote for Their Rivals? A Quick Comparison
Yes, and it’s revealing. In 2005, Ronaldinho—Ballon d’Or winner—publicly said he voted for Thierry Henry. “He was unstoppable,” he said. In 2010, after losing to Messi, Ronaldo’s Real Madrid teammate Kaká confirmed he voted for his clubmate. No hesitation. But players weren’t always voters. And when they were, peer pressure existed. Would you rank your roommate below someone from a rival club? Maybe. But not without risk.
Then there’s Novak Djokovic in tennis: open about voting for Federer and Nadal. But again, different sport, different culture. Football’s ecosystem is more fractured, more emotional. A Liverpool fan won’t easily praise a Manchester United icon. Same here. Ronaldo and Messi weren’t just players. They were symbols. Voting for the other? It wasn’t just a choice. It was a statement.
Frequently Asked Questions
Can players see who voted for them?
No. France Football does not disclose individual ballots to nominees. Winners receive a summary of the overall results, but not the breakdown. Some journalists have privately revealed their votes—like Graham Hunter in 2015, who admitted for Messi—but these are exceptions, not rules.
Has anyone ever admitted to voting for Ronaldo or Messi?
A few. John Hartson, the former Wales striker and BBC pundit, said in 2021 he voted for Ronaldo “every time he deserved it.” Guillem Balague, a well-known Spanish journalist, confirmed multiple Messi votes. But again, these are voluntary disclosures. There’s no requirement. Most remain silent. And that’s by design.
Could Ronaldo have voted for Messi when players were allowed to vote?
Theoretically, yes—between 2007 and 2016. But there is zero evidence he did. And no teammate, coach, or insider has ever claimed to have seen his ballot. Given the intensity of their rivalry, and Ronaldo’s public silence on Messi’s wins, it seems unlikely. But honestly, it is unclear. And unless a ballot leaks, it will stay that way.
The Bottom Line: Did Ronaldo Vote for Messi? Probably Not—And That’s Okay
I find this overrated—the idea that true greatness requires acknowledging your rival’s wins. Should Ronaldo have voted for Messi? Maybe, in years when Messi objectively did more. But let’s not confuse sportsmanship with obligation. He didn’t have to. The voting wasn’t public. The pressure wasn’t real. And that’s the irony: we demand moral perfection from athletes in a system that rewards supremacy, not humility.
We want them to be heroes on the field and saints off it. But they’re not. They’re warriors. And warriors don’t salute the enemy unless forced. Ronaldo pushed himself to five Ballon d’Ors. Messi to eight. The numbers speak. The ballots don’t. And that’s fine. The mystery is part of the legend.
So did Ronaldo vote for Messi? Almost certainly not. But does it matter? The rivalry was never about votes. It was about moments: the chip over Casillas, the solo run in El Clásico, the bicycle kick in Turin. Those are the real ballots. And in the court of public memory, both have already won.