My late father loved sports, especially tennis. But what he loved most of all was watching the Fifa World Cup and supporting England.
Growing up, English football dominated what many Malaysians watched, and my father was an unwavering England supporter.
My dad used to question this paradox constantly. The England teams of the 1970s and 1980s were packed with world-class talent, producing generations of outstanding players such as Kevin Keegan, Glenn Hoddle, Bryan Robson and Gary Lineker. Yet, despite their extraordinary individual brilliance, they repeatedly fell short on football’s biggest stage, never recapturing the glory of 1966.
Long before data analytics or corporate frameworks existed, my dad would sit in our living room in Kota Bharu and wonder why these super-teams couldn’t win. He intuitively sensed that they were missing a deeper connection – a shared soul and a unified system – that individual talent alone could never replace.
I don’t claim to know everything about football. In fact, I am the kind of fan who only thoroughly immerses myself in the matches once every four years. But those four weeks have become a sacred way for me to bond with my son. Just like his grandfather, my son is an avid fan of almost every sport – except, ironically, “the other” football!
We have witnessed the emotional end of an era. Cristiano Ronaldo has finished his final World Cup appearance, after a heartbreaking defeat saw Portugal eliminated. My son, along with millions of fans worldwide, was heartbroken to see one of the game’s greatest players fall short of football’s ultimate prize.
It makes me think back to where Ronaldo’s global journey truly accelerated: at Manchester United, when he was hand-picked and nurtured by Sir Alex Ferguson.
Ferguson built Manchester United’s success on relentless standards, constant reinvention and an unwavering team culture. Over 26 years, he rebuilt multiple championship-winning sides, never allowing individual brilliance to eclipse the collective.
His philosophy was simple: talent wins matches, but only a disciplined, united team wins consistently.
We saw another version of this in Germany’s 2014 World Cup triumph under Joachim Loew. Rather than relying on individual stars, he built a side defined by continuity, shared leadership and collective purpose. Every player understood that the team’s success mattered more than personal glory.
The World Cup always delivers these magical, unpredictable moments. But the underlying truth remains: teamwork is at the absolute core of winning.
You can assemble the best individual players in the world, but human emotion is inherently complex. Highly paid athletes play all year round for their respective clubs and then, once every four years, are expected to seamlessly represent their countries.
Success in these high-pressure tournaments requires rapid cohesion – forcing stars to immediately put aside their egos for a greater cause.
Team chemistry matters, but it is the spark, not the engine. Under pressure, it fades quickly unless supported by a strong system.
Research on high-performing organisations reaches much the same conclusion: the best teams don’t leave collaboration to chance. They create clear roles, shared goals, mutual trust and an environment where people feel safe to challenge one another. Chemistry, in other words, is often the outcome of a well-designed system.
This parallel between elite football managers and corporate leaders explains a common workplace phenomenon that I often see in my work.
When a new CEO takes over a company, we frequently see a major shake-up in the executive team. This restructuring happens not because the legacy managers lack the skills to do the job, but because the new leader needs to establish immediate alignment and drive a radical cultural shift.
Just as Sir Alex Ferguson or Joachim Loew would boldly bench or sell world-class players who did not fit their tactical blueprint, a new corporate leader must prioritise systemic fit over individual brilliance.
For a team to achieve peak effectiveness, every single member must be fully bought into the new vision, proving that structural cohesion will always outperform a disjointed group of superstars.
Of course, this doesn’t mean individual talent is irrelevant. An underdog squad can have immaculate teamwork, but without elite execution, they will eventually hit a structural ceiling.
The legendary 2014 German team didn’t win just because they clicked; they won because world-class superstars like Manuel Neuer, Philipp Lahm and Toni Kroos willingly subordinated their individual star power to function as a single unit. In their system, the team was the superstar.
This is the bittersweet contrast of Cristiano Ronaldo’s final World Cup exit. His final World Cup serves as a poignant reminder of this reality. Few athletes have demonstrated such extraordinary dedication, longevity and relentless pursuit of excellence.
Yet football’s greatest prize has always depended on far more than individual brilliance.
Ronaldo reached his explosive peak under Sir Alex Ferguson at Manchester United, where his remarkable talent flourished within a disciplined, high-performing team. But while a club manager has years to build cohesion, a World Cup offers only a few intense weeks. Even the greatest players cannot carry a nation alone.
My dad passed away in 2018, lucky enough to see the likes of Ronaldo and Messi dominate the sport at their peak. But his favourite football lesson came from the England teams of the 1970s and 1980s: talent alone doesn’t cut it.
Today, as I watch the World Cup with my son and witness one generation of football heroes giving way to the next, I am reminded that my dad was right all along.
Whether on the football pitch or in the boardroom, you cannot rely on a handful of stars to carry the team. Egos and eras come and go, but a united system builds a lasting legacy.
In the end, the team is the true superstar.
The views expressed here are the personal opinion of the writer and do not represent that of Twentytwo13.
