The roots from Bengal make it difficult to not follow football like a religion but I try. I believe somewhere deep down it’s because of the guilt I feel for living in a country of a billion which can not produce even one great player of the beautiful game. Long since I have waited for a Messiah when during discussions on football I would not have to talk about players whose lives had nothing in common with me. Maybe because I understood early that at the end of the day, football needed a team unlike cricket and individual brilliance could not save the day everyday.
And thus I have always given the collective more importance than the individual. This World Cup has been amongst the best I have seen where heroes have fallen and the masses have risen. There was a reason I have always loved Germany. I could sense and maybe I am wrong, they always looked the most patriotic on the field. Ronney, Messi, Ronaldo – all the greats owe their allegiance to the clubs but the Germans, most of them playing in the Bundesliga, play for the National Pride and that’s why they never give up. They are an Europe that is starkly different. They are not beautiful but they are clinical.
But then the Samba has stopped showing their Magic on the field as well. They try to emulate what the European Leagues teach them to do. And in being untrue to their selves which made them great they fall prey to the lesser known teams. My bet – The heart says Germany, The voice of Fate says Uruguay.
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