Why Lionel Messi Didn’t Deserve the 2012 Ballon d’Or

Lionel Messi made history on January 7, 2013, when he claimed his fourth consecutive Ballon d’Or, surpassing Michel Platini’s record. Finishing ahead of Cristiano Ronaldo and Andrés Iniesta, Messi was once again crowned the world’s best player.

Yet, despite his brilliance, many argue that this was the wrong decision—and even Messi himself admitted the award should have gone to his Barcelona teammate Andrés Iniesta.

A Year Without Major Success

The Ballon d’Or is meant to honor the best performer of the year, not merely the most famous. In 2012, Messi dazzled statistically, breaking Gerd Müller’s long-standing record for most goals in a calendar year. But football is not just about numbers—it’s about impact, trophies, and context.

Barcelona failed to win either La Liga or the Champions League, the two competitions that define greatness at club level. Their silverware came from the Copa del Rey and the Club World Cup, trophies of lesser prestige for a team of Barca’s stature. For a player whose genius depends on collective success, this was not a season that warranted the ultimate individual honor.

Cristiano Ronaldo’s Case: A Season of Team Triumphs

While Messi set records, Cristiano Ronaldo led Real Madrid to an extraordinary La Liga title. Madrid shattered league records—most points, most goals, and most wins in a single season.

Ronaldo wasn’t just breaking personal milestones; he was driving his team to historic collective success. Given that football is a team game, rewarding Messi over Ronaldo, who achieved more with his side, raises legitimate questions about the criteria used for the award.

Overlooking the True Architect: Andrés Iniesta

Perhaps the biggest injustice of all lies with Andrés Iniesta, the heartbeat of both Barcelona and Spain’s golden generation. Iniesta was UEFA’s Best Player in Europe and Player of the Tournament at Euro 2012, where Spain claimed their third consecutive major international title—an unprecedented feat in football history.

Iniesta’s influence extended far beyond statistics. He dictated tempo, created rhythm, and delivered on the grandest stages, earning three man-of-the-match awards during the Euros, including in the final. Yet, he finished third in the Ballon d’Or voting—behind two players whose teams failed to capture comparable glory.

When Messi himself publicly admitted that Iniesta deserved the award, it only reinforced the sense that the wrong man won.

The Historical Perspective: Awards Should Reflect Collective Context

Throughout football history, the Ballon d’Or has often recognized players who achieved greatness within winning teams.

Legends like Zinedine Zidane, Franz Beckenbauer, Fabio Cannavaro, and Ronaldo Nazário were rewarded not only for individual brilliance but for leading their nations or clubs to triumph.

By contrast, Messi’s 2012 award broke from that tradition. Gerd Müller, whose record Messi surpassed, did not win the Ballon d’Or in the season he set his scoring milestone. Instead, it went to Beckenbauer, captain of the European Championship–winning West Germany. Greatness, it seems, had always been measured by impact on victories, not by numbers alone.

Spain’s Golden Era Deserved Recognition

Spain’s dominance from 2008 to 2012 reshaped world football. The national team’s success—three consecutive major trophies (Euro 2008, World Cup 2010, Euro 2012)—owed much to the creative brilliance of players like Xavi and Iniesta.

Yet, neither of them ever lifted the Ballon d’Or, as Messi collected four in succession. The imbalance highlights how media attention and narrative often overshadowed the true architects of the game’s evolution.

Conclusion: The Right Player, the Wrong Year

No one denies Messi’s extraordinary talent or his historical significance. But the Ballon d’Or is an annual award, not a lifetime achievement trophy.

In 2012, the rightful winner should have been Andrés Iniesta, whose artistry and achievements on both club and international levels defined football’s highest ideals that year.

Messi’s fourth consecutive triumph cemented his legend—but it also revealed the growing disconnect between performance and perception, and the unfortunate tendency to reward celebrity over context.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

The Ballon d’Or 2010: When Brilliance Outshone Justice

When Lionel Messi lifted the 2010 FIFA Ballon d’Or in Zurich, the footballing world applauded—but not unanimously. The Argentinian magician, already the sport’s darling, stood above his Barcelona comrades Xavi Hernández and Andrés Iniesta. Yet for many, that golden orb glimmered less as a symbol of achievement than as an emblem of injustice. For if football is played across both continents and competitions, then the year 2010 belonged not to Messi, but to Wesley Sneijder.

A Year Divided: The Criteria That Split the World

The controversy of 2010 was born from confusion—was the Ballon d’Or a reward for club-season dominance or a reflection of calendar-year excellence? Messi’s triumph symbolized the former; Sneijder’s omission condemned the latter.

Messi’s brilliance across the 2009–10 La Liga season was undeniable: 34 league goals, a domestic title, and an unending reel of artistry under Guardiola’s intricate tapestry. Yet, when the calendar flipped into 2010, the world stage arrived—and Messi vanished from it.

Sneijder, meanwhile, emerged as the year’s architect of glory. His Inter Milan conquered Europe, Italy, and the imagination—achieving a treble no Italian club had ever claimed. And when the World Cup beckoned, he carried the same rhythm to South Africa, orchestrating the Netherlands’ unlikely journey to the final with vision, nerve, and five goals that lit up the tournament.

It was the quintessential footballing paradox: the man who conquered everything tangible lost to the man who dazzled within familiar boundaries.

The Numbers Behind the Narrative

Breaking down the voting patterns reveals an uncomfortable truth about the Ballon d’Or’s evolving nature. Among national captains and coaches—particularly from football’s “serious” nations—Messi swept comfortably. Yet the journalists, those tasked with analysis rather than admiration, told a different story. Their collective verdict placed Messi only fourth, behind Iniesta, Xavi, and Sneijder.

Their reasoning was simple: greatness in 2010 could not be confined to statistics alone. Messi’s La Liga numbers were inflated by a system that thrived on his finishing but was built upon Xavi and Iniesta’s orchestration. Sneijder, conversely, was both architect and executor for Inter and his national team. His passing unlocked defenses, his goals sealed destinies. He did not merely contribute to triumph—he defined it.

The Context of Glory: When the World Watched

The Ballon d’Or has always carried an unspoken rule: in a World Cup year, the world stage matters more than the domestic theatre. From Rossi to Zidane, from Ronaldo to Cannavaro, football has rewarded those who rose under the global gaze. Messi, for all his splendour, failed to ignite Argentina’s campaign in South Africa. Against Germany in the quarterfinals, he was a ghostly presence—nullified by Bastian Schweinsteiger’s brilliance and Maradona’s tactical naivety.

Sneijder, by contrast, was incandescent. He delivered match-winning performances against Brazil and Uruguay, outduelled Kaka, outthought Dunga’s men, and nearly outlasted Spain’s golden generation. His tally of five goals made him joint top scorer, and his four Man of the Match awards painted the portrait of a man in his prime, carrying a nation on his back.

A Tale of Shadows and Spotlight

Messi’s triumph in 2010 can be read not as a recognition of that year’s best footballer, but as an affirmation of his emerging mythos. By then, he had already become the sport’s global face—a marketing dream, a prodigy-turned-icon. Voter inertia and narrative momentum had tilted the scales. The Ballon d’Or, historically a celebration of achievement, began to drift toward legacy.

Never before had a player in a World Cup year won without lifting the trophy. Never had a treble winner been omitted even from the top three. The message was unmistakable: the Ballon d’Or had begun to reward reputation over resonance.

Sneijder: The Uncrowned Conductor

What Sneijder achieved in 2010 was not just statistical—it was symphonic. He choreographed Mourinho’s Inter into a masterpiece of defensive cohesion and creative precision, defeating Messi’s Barcelona en route to Champions League glory. He was named UEFA Club Midfielder of the Year, a nod to his decisive role in football’s highest stages.

In South Africa, his performances were an echo of his club season—vision, versatility, and courage under pressure. He was the mind that met the moment. And yet, in the Zurich ballroom, he was a spectator to an outcome that betrayed the essence of merit.

The Irony of Greatness

Even Xavi, ever the sportsman, questioned the verdict, lamenting how football’s highest honour could overlook the very players who had shaped both club and country’s triumphs. If Messi’s victory signified a coronation, it also marked a quiet death—the death of fairness in a year where achievement should have spoken louder than aura.

Conclusion: The Year Football Forgot Its Measure

In retrospect, the 2010 Ballon d’Or was not a celebration of excellence but an exercise in adoration. Messi’s genius was never in question; his timing, perhaps, was. Sneijder’s year was carved in silverware and sweat, his performances radiant in their completeness. The award should have been his—a recognition of mastery when the stage was grandest.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar