The Game for Life…

World Cup is gone…long live World Cups!!!

Its only been a few days since the void has started to get filled up..the void that inevitably comes after the end of what is arguably the most awaited one month in four years. A month when TVs are switched on no matter what the hour is and you hold your breath as fame and infamy exchange hands within seconds…

World Cup South Africa 2010 was the sixth world cup for me and over the years, no matter where I have been or what I have been doing, the one month becomes a time when nothing beyond the action in front of me matters. I must have sounded like a zombie on the phone with G since at that point of time my heart beat with Forlan and his magical left foot…

In life, we have various yardsticks with which we mark our time and which we use to look back and say ‘Aha’, that's when I was there and did that.

Four years is a long time for someone who is growing up…a time when circumstances around you are shed and you come out as a completely different person. Your thoughts and opinions about the world around you and the people in it change. You have moments when you grow up suddenly, you have heartbreaks, get over them (sometimes overnight), you read books that change you for life, you meet people who mark you for life and you discover things about yourself that you may or may not like…

But in the end, when the next world cup comes around, you have done your time and its time sit and cheer for your team. You also realize that like so much of your memories so many cherished players have become a part of the past.

For me, World cup started with Maradona and the Roger Milla dance,  a world cup that I ended with tears along with Maradona. I remember the incredible vibe around my house as the tournament started. Its my great luck that I was born in a family where everyone watched sports together (especially two things – World Cup and the other – Ganguly batting!!) and that was like a virus that I caught onto…

That was Italia 1990 and the world cup that I remember wolfing down magazines (this was 8 years before internet came into the house and atleast 10 years before any more-than-humble surfing can be done) which offered any information about what was happening around me. I remember reading and re-reading about the heroes of the past – the Peles, Garrinchas, Cryuffs, Lev Yashins, Kempes, De Stefanoes, Eusebios, Pushkas ; the heartbreaks of the past – Netherlands’ defeats in  consecutive finals with arguably the best team, Hungary’s defeat in the finals after being unbeaten for four years and subsequent decline after the revolution, Garrinchas death in penury and so on…

By the time the next one came up, old heroes had slipped and new ones came up, probably my first lesson that sports taught me about life – things change and we must go on. Milla’s dance was gone and Maradona was soon to go, in shame. Aryton Senna was to go too, in a car crash. That world cup was to be of Romarios and the dance was to belong to Bebeto and the tears belonged to Roberto Baggio…

I saw that world cup half in Calcutta and half in my home. My dad, uncle (who had gotten married in between the cups) and brother stayed up to watch the finals and I remember recording the final on VCR. Baggio’s thundering kick which missed the post by a mile will probably always remain indelible in my mind – a sign of how you can be the best player in the world and yet be remembered forever for   one bad penalty kick. The golden cup is unforgiving to those who fall by the wayside…

1998 France was the time when it was my tenth boards. But studies were to take a complete break as Zidane unleashed his magic to power the Les Blues to their first world cup, the first new champion since 1978. This time the tears were Brazilian and glory was of the team that signified ethnic unity in a former imperial power. Almost a fitting end to the last world cup of the century which saw its first in 1930 between two world wars!

2002 S Korea and Japan. I was done with my school long back and had started on a good boy’s career path– engineering after a hard fought battle with various entrance exams. There was a creeping feeling that there were too many distractions in life, time seemed short, a good career seemed suddenly a holy grail to a perfect life and life seemed to be suddenly in too much of a hurry.

Yet, everything was swept aside as time stood still for that one month. The hero of the last millennium, France, went out shamed in the group stage without scoring a goal and Brazilians and Ronaldo had the last laugh. Asia came into its own with S Korea reaching the semis defeating Italy and Spain. Africa again flattered to deceive as Senegal went out in a heartbreaking golden goal decision. Asia had its first world cup and Indians had to be content with the knowledge that India had once qualified back in the 1950s.

2006 Germany saw me with my first job after engineering in Kolkata (Cities, even if names, too change between world cups!!) working away as the greatly glorified job of being the genius third world technical problem solver for US MNCs, at a company that prided itself at having no Indian clients and whose employees prided in working in a company that was listed in NASDAQ.

Ah well, all cynicism were swept away as France, the model of ethnic unity 8 years before, now torn by ethnic strife and rise of anti-immigrant politics, looked to heroically regain glory with a visibly ageing team. A task that they almost magically grasped before footballs most famous header took it away from them. I had to hurry home from work to watch the matches on a small 14” TV in my one room guesthouse in Salt Lake. The good part was that I did not have to make any excuses to hurry home. Bengalis being Bengalis, it was an unspoken and tacit agreement throughout the city and indeed the whole state!!

In a sign of how rapidly things can change in four years, especially for those ‘starting off in their lives’, the next world cup was to see me in Shimla after having completed my MBA and having already started to feel a bit older after a heavily eventful four years. But the excitement has only grown, visibly. Forlan’s free kicks and Spain’s golden boys made the four year wait more than worthwhile. What made it even more enjoyable was the realization that I may not have been around to see it at all!!!

The gap between each World cup was filled to the brim with life that can only be appreciated by a rear view mirror. I have lost and gained so much – so many thoughts, so many convictions, so many dreams and so many people.

Each world cup seems a metaphor to me of life that goes on – enjoy while it lasts. You wonder where you would be as the next opening game kicks off and with whom. But I can promise one thing – I would still be loving every minute of it!!!

del.icio.us Tags: football,soccer,world cup,growing up,sports,history,india

History witnessed – Slovakia defeats Italy

There are some sporting moments that become marked in the collective memory of the world and which become iconic events, burnt deep into the history of the game. They are talked long after the shock, bewilderment and the euphoria has died down.

And decades down the line, people will talk in wonder about the spectacle that was. They will wonder whether they would be able to watch anything like it themselves – watch it as it unfolds, live or being physically present, not necessarily knowing at the start that they are living in a historic sporting moment but knowing fully by the end of it…

Then there will be people who would have seen it live, as it unfolded before their eyes, as history was created in their lifetime, people who were privileged to have been there, in the right place and the right time. These people would remember the moments vividly, moments when their blood would be throbbing and they would be on their feet, all aches and worries of this world forgotten…

Yesterday, I was one of the lucky millions who was a part of such a moment. And the magic was provided by one of the most extraordinary game of football that I have ever seen.

Slovakia, World Cup debutantes, with no victory in their first two matches, against all odds, defeated the defending champions Italy 3-2 in a pulsating match that had one of the most intense last 10 minutes of football ever seen. Italy ended up at the end of the group, below New Zealand!!! Who would have thought that when the world cup started? Italy and France, the finalists in 2006 WC are both out (both defeated by so called minnows – France eliminated by South Africa)

It may be a pivotal moment in world football, which in a world cup marked by many upsets (and we are still in group stages), a moment which may herald the coming of age of footballing nations which played second fiddle to the great footballing nations (Later, in the night, Japan defeated Denmark 3-1, crashing them out, first time the Danes had gone out of group stages).

It was a game that Italy had to win or atleast draw to get a safe passage into the round of 16. And everyone gave the Italians thumbs up. After all, that's how the Azzuris have their history – they are slow starters but they eventually come good. This time, the law of averages caught up with them.

For the game review, read this from the Fifa site (if the link does not work, click here)

And see the goals and the highlights of this game which along with being a historical landmark also had its more than fair share of drama and controversy (can the two be ever separate, I wonder)

 

 

The snippets and the highlights can only capture a small part of the drama of the live action when every second seemed heavily pregnant with possibilities of the game swinging any which way. The late surge by the Italians was wonderful to watch and your heart went out to the Italians as they realized the nightmare that they are living through and the nightmare that most of them would carry all their lives, this being the last world cup for the majority of the ageing Italian team.

And what better way to capture the moments than by posting some of the pivotal moments of the game, a game that would live long in the memory of those lucky to witness it…

Slovakia vs. italy 2010 WC from protik basu on Vimeo.

Perhaps the most poignant photo of all is of Cannavaro, walking back in the proverbial sunset but with no happy ending, an end that no-one would have wanted but that's the way the game goes…

del.icio.us Tags: football,world cup,slovakia,italy,upset,goals,group stage 2010,south africa

India sold for 500,000…

I remember a childhood story that i remember affected me profoundly. The story was of the Koh-i-noor diamond and how we lost it to the Britishers. The Brits were the ‘bad guys’ who looted the best things that this country had to offer and how they obscenely display the Koh-i-noor, something that they stole from us.

It was a story told with much pain, a pain which I could articulate later as born out of impotent helplessness. At that time, I could just sense the injustice of it all. I could sense the wound. The pride of India, stolen and displayed openly by the thief. If only we were powerful and could force the Brits give it up, how wonderful that would be, i used to fantasize. I used to fantasize, Hollywood style (or rather Mossad style) of a crack team of commandoes who would steal back the diamond.

I guess i retained a bit of that boyhood fantasy till very late. If some part of it still lived somewhere inside, the following news pretty much would have killed it off…

Tipu Sultan’s sword sold off

The implicit belief of my boyhood fantasy was that no Indian, if given a chance would let a part of his history and legacy be sold off like a cheap trinket. By Indian, I mean us as a collective. The government of the people, as a custodian of the country’s pride…

In spite of having ‘grown up’ i.e. resigned myself to the ‘practical world’ of adulthood, a part of me that never let go of the boyhood fantasy has collapsed with dismay over the almost non-importance of the event for the public, let alone the mandarins in the parliament. It merited a single column in most newspapers. IPL’s cheerleaders get more space.

A part of our glorious history – that of resistance agaisnt the Britishers (Tipu was the last king to defeat the Britishers), a legacy of the perhaps the greatest threat against British rule (before 1857), a symbol of what we have learnt to be proud of (remember the serial ‘The sword of Tipu Sultan’?), is sold off to the highest bidder at an auction house in London and we do nothing!!! and worse, we are still happily doing nothing. And even worse, we have already moved on…

Tipu’s sword was taken (stolen by the ‘bad guys’ remember?) from his dead body when his capital was overrun in the Third Mysore war. The captured sword was taken a symbol of triumph to London and 150 years later, we get a chance to get it back to where it belongs. But we let it go into the private collection of somebody rich enough to display it among his/her other trinkets.

A government that sits back and watches millions of rupees being spent on as useful as their own statues (sometimes complete with handbags) is not able to spend a few million on getting back what is rightfully ours?

In 2000, Vijay Mallya bought another of Tipu’s sword amidst much fanfare, as if he was doing a service to the country by keeping it in his house. Why not make it public property? Why was it not demanded? (I would not be surprised if this is the same sword that Mallya bought, which it is, according to some reports)

Which is all a collective failure, a failure of our pride to galvanize us in demanding the restoration of dignity of our past. We just don't care enough. Perhaps we don't seem to feel that it is important enough. Our so called present ascent to a world superpower (superpower of outsourced work, mostly) gives us more pride, not a supposed colonized past.

The only question to be asked here – would China (with similar history and the supposed competition to our ascent) have sat back and let their legacy be sold off? Of Mao or of Sun-yat-Sen? How many of us would say yes to that, I wonder? Something to ponder on there…

I guess Tipu fought for the wrong country…

 

del.icio.us Tags: Tipu Sultan,sword of tipu sultan,auction,india,history,1857,first war of indepenence,legacy,indian