Maradona, Pele or Messi? It’s the eternal debate. Who is the greatest footballer of all time? According to The Soccer 100, The Athletic’s new book ranking football’s hundred greatest players, the answer is Messi. But the North London based contributor Amy Lawrence cast a dissenting vote: she chose Pelé, deferring to those who witnessed the Brazilian king’s dominance firsthand. The book’s official ranking places Maradona second, Pelé third, then Cruyff, Ronaldo, and Di Stefano. But the list reveals something more interesting than rankings: the impossibility of comparing eras. How do we judge players like Alfredo Di Stefano or Ferenc Puskas we’ve only seen in grainy footage against those, like Messi or Ronaldo, whose every touch has been televised? And why do great footballers like Diego Maradona —masters of intelligence on the pitch—sometimes become such flawed and tragic figures off it?
1. The Pelé Problem: Why Nostalgia Matters Amy Lawrence voted for Pelé as number one, even though The Athletic’s collective ranking placed Messi first. Her reasoning? “When I grew up, when you spoke to people who were older than you, there wasn’t a debate. Pelé was the best.” She deferred to those who witnessed him live—a rare admission that nostalgia might actually be wisdom, not sentimentality.
2. Maradona’s Genius Was Inseparable from His Madness Lawrence describes Maradona as playing “with a madness...there was something of the kind of intense creative artist about him.” He was a street footballer thrust into Italian mafia management, hacked and kicked because defenders “couldn’t stop him by playing football.” His 1986 World Cup remains the most dominant individual performance in history—but his life became the cautionary tale of what happens when raw genius meets extreme celebrity.
3. Cruyff Was the Anti-Ronaldo Johan Cruyff “encouraged everybody to think instead of just watch”—a philosopher-footballer who “was a bit of a rebel” and famously skipped the 1978 World Cup (possibly because his wife didn’t trust him with the ladies). Contrast that with Cristiano Ronaldo, whom Lawrence describes as “built by design”—the AI-generated footballer, all machine, no poetry. If Ronaldo represents modern football’s corporate efficiency, Cruyff embodied its lost intellectual soul.
4. Women Journalists Don’t Play the Gender Card—But Maybe They Should Lawrence, possibly the only woman among the ten journalists who compiled The Soccer 100, says she “never played the women’s card” when arguing for players. But she admits that being a woman in a male-dominated field made her “just a bit more memorable” and perhaps allowed for “a slightly more sensitive line of questioning” that helped players relax. It’s a fascinating tension: rejecting gender as relevant while acknowledging its subtle advantages.
5. The Impossibility of Comparing Eras Makes These Lists Meaningless—and Essential How do you compare Di Stefano (whom most people have only seen in grainy footage) with Messi (whose entire career has been televised)? Or account for the fact that modern players rack up goals against Lithuania and Andorra, while older players “never got able to pick up goals playing against” minnows? Lawrence acknowledges “there was never any pretense that this was some kind of definitive list”—yet we need these lists anyway, because they force us to articulate what we value in greatness itself.
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