The Prince Who Never Became A King
Neymar's career is fading out.
This is a guest article by Chirag Sharatkumar. Subscribe to Sideline Stories.
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Neymar was, and perhaps always will be, this sport’s greatest promise.
The boy from Brazil, whose brilliance and bravado made him unforgettable long before he set foot in Europe, was meant to lead, to carry, not just Brazil, but perhaps all of football, into a new era.
He was the heir apparent, Brazil’s saviour — and the next to wear the crown passed down from Pele to Zico, Romario, Ronaldo, Ronaldinho, and Kaka. And for a time, he carried those hopes as if they were meant for him alone.
In his Santos days, he was like an illusion, a fantasy on the pitch. He made his professional debut at just 17 and even as a teenager, he was an artist, bold and untamed, seemingly invincible, as if he was made for this and only this.
Brazil needed him, and he needed to show the world what Brazilian football was meant to be. And so, he did. He became the face, the icon. He carried Santos to a Copa Libertadores title, their first since 1963, and with every dribble that eluded defenders, it became more and more apparent. He wasn’t just any kid; he was the prodigy.
In 2011, he placed tenth in the Ballon d’Or rankings, an unprecedented feat for a player playing outside Europe. And he was only 19, still in Brazil, and still the prince waiting for his coronation.
But the world wanted more of him, and so did he. Europe was calling, and Neymar needed a place on the biggest stage of them all. It was Barcelona that beckoned and at the Camp Nou, he was wild, electric, and almost poetic.
In a league that housed the colossal giants of Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo, Neymar found his place, somehow shining brighter than anyone thought possible. His talent was that rare, his game that compelling. He had a creative genius about him that felt like a gift not just to Barcelona but to football. The sport had found its next great artist, and Neymar his truest muse.
He wasn’t just another Brazilian superstar arriving in LaLiga; he was something more. His creativity was ruthless, and he put it to good use, humiliating defenders at every turn. But it was joyful, too. You could sense it — the game loved him, and he loved it back.
And then there was that trio, “MSN”. Messi, Luis Suarez, and Neymar formed a partnership that was as harmonious as it was merciless. Over three seasons together, they scored 363 goals, averaging over 120 per season. But they didn’t only score goals, they mesmerised fans.
They were a trio that played on each other’s instincts, understanding and anticipating movements before they were made. And right in the thick of it all was Neymar — the showman and the genius.
It was here, in his time at Barcelona, that he was at his purest, his unadulterated best. But then maybe that was the problem. He was brilliant, yes, but still somewhat obscured, never fully taking the limelight. No matter how good he was or how much his talent shone, he would always be second place, stuck in Messi’s unsurmountable shadow.
Neymar, with all the weight of expectation resting heavy on his shoulders, wanted to be the face of a team, not just one brilliant piece of it.
And then Paris happened.
The move to Paris Saint-Germain signalled a shift. This was supposed to be his kingdom, the prince now here, being asked to rule, but it never quite felt like it. Neymar was still dazzling, still brilliant, but… different. He was worn down, displeased, struggling with a body that let him down and a mind that let him off. But he was still, well, better.
When he was fit (granted, this was a big when), he was almost always the best player on the pitch. Almost being the operative word, there. In the same summer Neymar joined PSG in a record-breaking transfer, the club also signed Kylian Mbappe from Monaco.
There were moments of magic, as there always are with Neymar, but they were just that: Moments, fleeting and waning. Mbappe, on the other hand, consistently delivered.
His time in Paris would be marred more by injuries and absences than anything else, with long spells on the sidelines, a mind losing focus, and an ever-growing sense of disillusionment. Neymar wanted his own stage so desperately, but it seems in this pursuit, he mistook the grave importance of the story.
Now at 32, he’s gone further, no longer yearning for his own spotlight, to the greener pastures of Saudi Arabia with Al-Hilal, where his injuries have certainly gotten the better of him. Now the demands are lighter, the stakes lower, and the rewards much, much, much higher. It feels almost surreal, watching him sidelined again, his body giving out before his spirit could even muster another fight.
He has been sidelined for nearly a year with a serious anterior cruciate ligament tear and just as he was making his way back to fitness, he has picked up yet another knock. Having hardly kicked the ball in a year, it’s difficult not to wonder: What’s left of the Neymar we once knew? The artist, the prodigy, the boy who danced his way across the pitch day in and day out, from Brazil to Barcelona.
The answer, unfortunately, is not forgiving.
Meanwhile, two thirds of the old trio are having their own kind of reunion over in MLS. Messi and Suarez, even at 37, have found a soft landing with Inter Miami; a league less taxing on their aging bodies, less demanding, but where they can still shine. They’re with old friends too as Sergio Busquets and Jordi Alba have joined the party, forming the last remnants of that great Barcelona side.
Messi and Suarez spearheaded Miami’s Supporters’ Shield success this season, plus a record MLS points total, though fell short of glory in the playoffs.
With Neymar’s current contract ending in 2025 and his career in Saudi Arabia all but shot dead, not that it came to life much in his seven appearances, there is a chance for him to reunite with Messi and Suarez; not so much to revive Neymar the footballer, but maybe, just maybe, to revive Neymar the person.
In Brazil, they often joke that the “Hypothetical Neymar” is the best one.
The one who suffered without injuries. The one whose mind was as committed to football as his heart. The one who won several Ballon d’Or awards. The one who may not have matched them in stats but overtook the duopoly of Messi and Ronaldo with his skill, his charm, and his sheer daring. The one who took Brazil back to the summit where they belong, winning World Cups the way his heroes did. This is the one who realised his potential, not as an athlete but as an artist.
That’s the Neymar we all wanted. But football can be cruel, so it is not to be. Now we must contend with simply knowing that Neymar could have been — scratch that, should have been — so much more.
And yet, maybe there’s something to be said for the Neymar that we got too. The one who was beautiful in his imperfection, whose potential alone was more dazzling than most careers. Football’s prince may never have become king, but he is royalty nonetheless.