The Football; The Bong

Last week after ages I played the game and kicked a ball so hard that my shoe threatened to fly off. And while kicking I started calculating the angle at which my side of my foot needs to touch the ball. And in one of those moments, in the turf laid down at the East Coast Park, I realized I actually miss football.

Every bong is born unto this world with the conviction that he knows football. So every 4 years, he or she trades the Indian nationality to support Brazil, Argentina or at times (surprise surprise) Germany. And when the world is normal, he supports Mohun Bagan, East Bengal or Md. Sporting. The reasons why Bongs love Football are many, but I believe it’s mostly economic. Cricket you see was a game that required significant investment even at the very basic level. For Football, it’s nothing. In fact, if you get a chance, do watch a movie called Africa United. It’s fascinating to see how a football can be made with a condom, a plastic bag and strings. Across Bengal, poverty has been a reality and that’s the reason why we chose to play football over cricket.

Of course there are these new breed of bongs, me included, who act as if they were born at Wembley and played Gulli Cricket with Alex. These guys support typically these teams – those born in the eighties support Liverpool as they had seen the Nineties, the next generation support ManU, the next Arsenal, the new breed without any respect for pedigree support Chelsea and there are whispers that some have begun to support the other ‘chesters this season. Few of the bongs seem to support Napoli and if you wonder why, please stop reading and never ever claim to have a Bong as a friend.

Now my football journey lasted every day since 1989 (till around 2001) for 5 days a week with balls ranging from an innocuous tennis ball on the basketball court, to half the playground as the junior classes, and finally with an actual football, to being the Class 12ers who could play along the entire field, whether they could manage it or not.

The best part about those days was the fact that at any given point in time there would be about 400 students running after 25 balls on a fairly large field with 6 goalposts and 50 goalies who preferred to call themselves “Flying Goalies”

The 2 guys the entire class of 2011 of the greatest school in Calcutta looked up to were Asif Pasha and Niloy Mitra. Of course there were other players, even better players than these 2 but somehow since the beginning till the end of our school life these 2 guys typically were our captains who chose the teams. Somehow I always ended up in Asif’s team and I am yet to figure out if it was because Asif chose me or Niloy did not :)

Anyway, as I said I have had a long and fruitful journey as a footballer. I started as a striker, given the fact in the penalty shoot outs I could shoot really hard and in the 30 minutes rarely did any match have any outcome :) Then as usual with other things in my life, duty called. And I figured out that my services were needed in the mid field. About the time when the world cup was happening I realized that my football idol, Kaizer had made Lothar a Libero. I still don’t exactly know what a libero does, but it sounded a pretty cool thing to say to people. (Or was it not Kaizer who invented it but was in the edition after Italia 90?) Being a libero was of course tiring and I decided to be a back and then a full back, which I defined as never having to go beyond the midfield. That’s when I made my most famous football quote, “the ball might pass, no one else would.”

But as we grew older, the effect was telling. I mean how many footballers have a 12 year long illustrious career? So that’s when I became the “Flying Goalie” though to be absolutely honest I never did much flying.

So I stood under the goalpost and the years flashed before my eyes. Was it this reason for which I had been trained? Was it for this reason that I had become a goalie? To salvage lost pride for the Foods team? I almost could hear Hollywood Sports movies go on around my head (and a little bit of Chak De India) – you know the inspirational dialogue bit.

And yeah these days the goalie does seem to get the captaincy, the cup and the babe! So fate had got me here for a reason.

All such notions were soon laid to rest. We conceded 14 goals in 4 matches. 10 of those were through my “safe” hands. To be fair to myself, I did save quite a few and apparently we fared much better than last year for which we promptly treated ourselves to a scrumptious lunch at Scumpy Murphys but still...

Fate got me here to have a nice laugh on a Saturday morning! Even she needs her funny moments!

Damn I should have remained a striker :)

The Calcutta Derby

Few weeks ago, my friends on social networking sites had become Spanish. All through the day I got status updates which spoke about El Classico. It was slightly funny. As if all of them lived their lives in Madrid. It’s ok to follow any football league; it’s another to put up status messages about some random match in some random country. I had anyway given up on fat ManU fans and skinny arsenal warriors. The EPL I understand can have a socio cultural reason; the Brits taught us the game! But come on, The Spanish League?

And that day I decided to write a post, a post about an idiot, a staunch supporter of a football club I hate, my oldest friend, my partner from the gang of the last remaining North Calcuttans.

When we were in school, the only football we discussed apart from the World Cup were the Calcutta Legaue, IFA Shield, Durand Cup, Fed Cup and a few other tournaments which we followed with our radios and newspapers. I still remembered in the early 90s, when Mohun Bagan signed Chima as the first foreigner, I was really really upset. Then when we whisked away Krishanu De and Bikash Panji from under their noses during the transfer season, I had done a little jig in the Tiffin Break while he refused to speak to me for a week. As if I had betrayed him.

The Calcutta Derby is perhaps the slowest game of football that is being played today. When I watch it on TV, I can see the reason why any other football league is preferred by my friends. But still some of the bongs never fail to turn up in Yuvabharati carrying their Hilsa or the Lobster depending on whom they support. But things have changed.

The Barettos, Muritala and Chidi dominate the teams; we have not only lost our football but our footballers too. Even the coaches, Naim or Diamond Dutta are no longer the toast of the Calcutta giants.

The passion has definitely come down. Goa and Kerala have perhaps got out even better football teams in the recent years than Calcutta. We have lost Md. Sporting and Tollygunj Agragami and have just added Chirag. But then Indian Football has lost Mahindras. All in all, we are not hep and happening any more. It’s like Jatras of Bengal. If a kid can watch Tron, why will he watch “patir punne satir punno”? (In the good deeds of the husband is the good deed of the devout wife)

So the main reason I am writing this is because I have lost the passion myself. It doesn’t matter to me anymore if the news channel reports that Bagan has held Dempo to a draw and not the other way round but if the Calcutta Derby comes up, I never miss a chance to call up and claim that this time we will give them a 5-0 drubbing. But he has remained true. He follows the team, ensures he is at the matches and celebrates the wins, whenever that happens.

But I think one day we will get back our football and then we will continue to fight over who wins the Calcutta Derby but with more pride than El Classico!

Heroes and Superheroes

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.