Aged 28, Sergio Ramos had never played in a Champions League final, meaning that, by definition, he’d never won one, scored in one or raised that fabled trophy as a captain.
Yet his strengths — particularly the kind of bullish, coruscating, red-hot aggressive self-certainty that’s powered all of Ramos’ success — can become an Achilles heel too.
Ramos’ departure from the club didn’t simply have to do with arguments over whether he should get one, two or even four seasons in a new contract nor, specifically, about how much he should earn.
“The offer was on the table, and I’d never have thought of accepting going there ,but it transpired that my relationship with the club wasn’t what I thought it was,” said Ramos in 2019.
Then, in his role as “union leader” — given that he’s the all-powerful captain of this massively hard-bitten and successful dressing room — Ramos discouraged his teammates from accepting Florentino’s petition that they negotiate wage reductions as a squad during the pandemic.
Ramos seems to have believed that there was another agenda, perhaps one to save the club money that they could then spend on signing, and paying, Kylian Mbappe.
A legend, still in great shape, hungry for more triumphs at the club and loved by the fans: he felt very close to untouchable.
Think of Alfredo Di Stefano, Raul and Iker Casillas: all of them left Real Madrid either on bad terms with the President of their day, or via the back door without a proper farewell.
Nobody has been sent off more times for Madrid, or in La Liga, than Ramos, but very few players have won more trophies with the club.
Most fans and critics even ignore the fact that he’s an extraordinarily good footballer.
I’ve had the great fortune across many tournaments, when he was either Spain’s right-back or centre-half, of watching him go through training drills but, more importantly, watching him in the parts before or after sessions when he’s challenging teammates to competitions.
His haircuts, his wardrobe, his jewellery, his cars, his anger, his lunges at Lionel Messi, his trophy lifts, his improbable rescue acts for club and country, his dropping of the Copa del Rey off the top deck of a celebration bus, his wagging of a finger at referees, his skill, his power: his utter, total, unshakeable self-belief.
Frankly, it’s been a hoot.
I say that because, honestly, La Liga is still massively better, massively more fun, more interesting and more competitive with Sergio Ramos in it.
But when she made him promise not to become a Torero, and not to make her live in fear that one of those evenings in that profession he’d be fatally gored, Paqui Garcia inadvertently blessed football with one of the most colourful, talented, daring, cocky and entertaining players it has ever seen.