Sorry, Lionel, the king is dead.

The real king of football, maybe of all sport, Edson Arantes do Nascimento, to give Pele his full title, has reclaimed his crown.

You deserved your not-even-15-days of fame as a World Cup winner, but you were merely a regent to the undisputed monarch who passed away in the early hours (Malaysian time) at 82.

A genius, yes, but you simply cannot compare to the gilded one, who was every bit as shimmering as his canary yellow shirt in which he dazzled an awestruck world.

The sheer weight of his achievements, the glowing eulogies, stats and grainy reminders to rheumy eyes is simply overwhelming.

This from his official Instagram page is a mere taster: “On his journey, Edson enchanted the world with his genius in sport, stopped a war, carried out social works all over the world and spread what he most believed to be the cure for all our problems: love.”

As one suitably enchanted, I had a tinge of guilt when I heard the news of Pele”s passing.

When Messi chaperoned Argentina to finally land his first World Cup, I admit to considering him a serious challenger to Pele’s lofty perch.

I am privileged to have seen both players as well as Diego Maradona – albeit from unfair vantage points.

Pele was in his pomp; Maradona was past it while a teenage Messi was just breaking into the Barcelona side.

But as the accolades poured in for the little maestro and the GOAT (greatest of all time) debate raged, I stuck with my old favourite.

Where Maradona imploded like a heat-seeking missile and Messi needed five attempts to land the ultimate crown, Pele won it three times.

It could have been four or five, but he was cruelly kicked out of one (1966) and retired prematurely before the 1974 edition.

Comparing the generations is like the apples and pears debate, and almost tribal: we tend to stick with our own.

But watching Pele, it wasn’t just that he was the greatest, it was impossible to believe anyone could ever be better.

The stats are tilted heavily in his favour: three World Cups to one for Messi, 1,281 goals in 1,363 games to Messi’ 793 in over 1,003.

Messi won seven Ballons d’Or but they didn’t have the award in Pele’s day as he owned the freehold.

There are other things: Messi has a wand for a left foot but Pele had rocket launchers in both feet. He could not only blast into the top corner from a distance with either foot, he could make the deftest layoff.

For the king, one peg was as good as the other.

A Messi header is a collector’s item, but Pele would soar like Michael Jordan and deliver slam dunks with his forehead. A favourite was when he rose above Italy’s Roman wall to clinch the World Cup in 1970.

Earlier, another had drawn the “save of the century”; out of England keeper Gordon Banks.

Pele was built like an ox compared to the flea-like Argentinian. Defenders would bounce off him, when they weren’t sent the wrong way.

Kylian Mbappe earned accolades for distracting defenders with his mere presence in Qatar. It brought back memories of Pele “sending an entire team rushing for the wrong bus”, as one commentator put it, without touching the ball.

The hapless victims of an outrageous dummy were Uruguay in the 1970 semi-final. It was this World Cup, the first held in the rarefied air of Mexico and the first on colour television, that was his crowning glory.

Brazil’s cobalt blue shorts and canary yellow shirts seemed to shine through the screen when worn by the likes of Rivelino, Jairzinho, Tostao and Carlos Alberto, all luminescent courtiers of the all-powerful king.

This was peak jogo bonito – the beautiful game – a phrase coined by Pele and football that was his patent.

Carlos Alberto’s goal, for which Pele had the penultimate touch, going right back to the jinking run out of defence by Clodoaldo, became a cult. It still sends shivers down the spine.

Remembering the names of those who put a celestial caress to the move became a quiz question, just as Pele’s own official moniker did.

He didn’t like his nickname, saying it sounded like a baby name in Portuguese, but it became the most famous in the world, rivalled only by Muhammed Ali.

It all started in Sweden in 1958. On grainy black and white screens, the 17-year-old innocent-looking Brazilian became the talk of every town.

No one had ever seen anything like him. The audacity of ball-juggling in the area over a tall and statuesque Swedish defence, was the stuff of fantasy.

His name was made for all time. The joy he brought, the magic he wove, the thrills he provided… they’ve never been surpassed.

If you think generational bias might be at play here, this is what an “enemy” said. None other than Argentina’s 1978 winning coach Cesar Luis Menotti claimed: “When you talk about football don’t bring Pele into it because he is from another planet.”

And then there’s Joao Saldanha, the coach who guided that 1970 side. He said: “Ask me who is the best right-back in Brazil, and I’ll say Pele. Ask me about the best left-back or midfield man, or the best centre-forward. Always I must say Pele. If he wants to be goalkeeper, he will be. There is only one Pele.”

Nor was the man himself shy about his ability, once saying: “I was born to play football, just like Beethoven was born to write music and Michelangelo was born to paint.

“Every kid around the world who plays soccer wants to be Pele.”

Now they want to be Messi, but they should take a look at some old footage of the king on YouTube, and they might change their minds.

I’m glad I didn’t change mine.

Long live the king!