The Ballon d’Or, football’s most famous individual prize, was not always the gold-plated standard for tedium it has become during the past 16 years. From 1990, 17 different players won the award over the next 18 years, with victors hailing from not only Brazil, Germany, France and Italy but also Ukraine, Liberia, Bulgaria and even England.

But if the names from the 1990s hit like a wave of nostalgia – Van Basten! Baggio! Stoichkov! Weah! Ronaldo! Rivaldo! – the list from 2008 onwards is crushingly repetitive. Cristiano Ronaldo won his first gong that year, Lionel Messi succeeded him, and what was once a fun way to spotlight a great player – or at least an outstanding 12 months – turned into a proxy war for social media’s most overplayed debate. Messi and Ronaldo hoovered up 13 of 15 awards from 2008-2023, a duopoly driven by the players’ relentless brilliance but also powered by the marketing machines of Adidas and Nike, as well as political in-voting.

As scintillating as it was watching the pair strive to one-up each other on the pitch, particularly for the nine seasons they shared in La Liga, it was tedious seeing them sit in tuxedos with fixed grins, adding to their inflated bunch of Ballons each year. It reduced the award to a mind-numbing reminder of what even the most casual fan already knew: that Messi and Ronaldo have been the best footballers of the past 20 years.

For such a prestigious accolade the Ballon d’Or, which will have its 2024 announcement on Monday, has a pleasingly quirky backstory. Organised by France Football magazine, the award was the brainchild of player turned journalist Gabriel Hanot and editor Jacques Ferran (the pair also helped dream up the European Cup). In 1956 Stanley Matthews was voted the first winner, this despite the fact the great winger was 41 at the time, three years removed from his career-capping FA Cup triumph and, even for such an ageless wonder, past his peak. In its very first attempt, the Ballon d’Or had essentially failed in its brief and delivered a lifetime achievement award.

In the decades afterwards, legends such as Alfredo Di Stéfano, Johan Cruyff, George Best and Franz Beckenbauer rubbed shoulders with leftfield picks including Denmark’s Allan Simonsen and Igor Belanov of the Soviet Union. Nobody got too angry. But amid modern football’s era of the individual, the Ballon d’Or has become weaponised; something to be craved and desired to a remarkable degree.

So much so that in 2021, France Football’s then editor-in-chief, Pascal Ferré, told the New York Times: “Cristiano Ronaldo has only one ambition, and that is to retire with more Ballons d’Or than Messi … I know that because he has told me.” The player dismissed this as lies, yet his self-serving documentary, Ronaldo, is bookended by him winning his second and third Ballons d’Or in 2013 and 2014, positioned as if they are his ultimate prize, despite the 12 months in between including his first Champions League triumph at Real Madrid and a World Cup campaign with Portugal.

Several other players have made career-altering decisions just to try to get their hands on the coveted gold orb. Neymar’s departure from Barcelona to Paris Saint-Germain in 2017 wasn’t solely about earning mountains of cash. “To win the Ballon d’Or is something that I’ve set as a goal, it would be a personal victory,” the Brazilian said, calculating that doing so in Messi’s shadow at Barça would be impossible.

If that makes it sound like the Ballon d’Or has become more trouble than it’s worth, it’s important to recall the award can be a force for good. The most globally celebrated winner came in 1995, after it was opened up beyond European players, when George Weah picked up the prize. Was the wonderfully skilful Weah any more deserving than, say, Jari Litmanen, who inspired Ajax to win the 1995 Champions League, a free-scoring Jürgen Klinsmann or sundry other contenders? Not necessarily. But in honouring Weah, the Ballon d’Or was recognising the increasing influence of African footballers. The Liberia forward became an inspiration to aspiring players across a continent.

It’s a depressing statistic that, despite the impact African players have had on European football since, Weah remains a lone victor from that continent. Also, the Ballon d’Or Féminin may have arrived belatedly in 2018 but it has magnified the achievements of the best female players. And, with four different winners over five years, has provided greater variety than its male counterpart, which has had as many different winners in 15 tries.

A nadir for the men’s award came in 2023. Messi claiming an eighth Ballon d’Or felt empty – winning a World Cup was the finishing touch on his legacy, this added nothing – and also oddly arbitrary. Messi was superb for Argentina for a month but his club form had plateaued and was he really any better than Kylian Mbappé, who also led his side to the final, then scored a hat-trick? Had France won on penalties instead of Argentina, it’s almost certain Mbappé would have won the award ahead of Messi. The fate of the Ballon d’Or was essentially decided on the back of Kingsley Coman and Aurélien Tchouaméni missing penalties, while Gonzalo Montiel scored. What logic is this?

It’s too late now to give the 2023 award to Mbappé, or to Manchester City’s Erling Haaland or Kevin De Bruyne. Nor can we correct the error that Andrés Iniesta or Xavi have a grand total of zero awards between them, despite transformative roles in gamechanging Barcelona and Spain sides. Yet there are golden rays of hope for the award. For the first time in 21 years, there is no Messi or Ronaldo – or any previous winner – on the 30-player shortlist. It appears a showdown between Vinícius Júnior, who would be the first black winner since his fellow Brazilian Ronaldinho 19 years ago, or Rodri who would be the first male Spanish winner since Barcelona’s Luis Suárez (not that one) in 1960.

It feels like a refresh, and with Mbappé and Haaland in their primes – and young pretenders Lamine Yamal, Jude Bellingham, Jamal Musiala et al catching up fast – the Ballon d’Or does not look set for years of repetitiveness. The players are doing their part but the way we view the award also has to change. It cannot just be a tool to tell us what we already know – let Fifa’s mundanely titled rival “The Best” do that.

To return the Ballon d’Or to its former glory, we all have to do something that is an anathema in modern football: treat it less seriously. Football already has its hard currency for success: the wins, the trophies, the goals, the data. If the Ballon d’Or can once again be an antidote to that – something more malleable, inspiring, warm and empowering – that in itself will be worthy of celebration.