Socccer : Life or A way of Life

“Some say football is a matter of life and death. I am really disappointed by this attitude; it is something much more than that!!” – Bill Shanky, legendary Liverpool football manager.

From the above quote it is simple what football can mean to any soccer lover, to what extent his association can go. 

My 1st exposure to the game as a kid goes back to 1980s somewhere around 1985-86. One Saturday afternoon my grandfather switched on the television set (we used to have the old B&W Webel television). Those days there was only one channel. I thought maybe it was the usual weekend movie time. I sat by his side. But to my surprise I found some men kicking about a ball---I never understood what was it---on enquiry I came to know it was football being played in Kolkata. During the match more than the TV set I watched my grandfather’s reactions. I asked him what was going on and what were these clubs. He told me one was East Bengal  (who dawned red & yellow colour), the other Mohan Bagan (green and maroon brigade)—needless to mention colours were not on the screen you had to keep it in mind. The East Bengal jersey looked grey while the Mohan Bagan jersey black. Grandfather told me East Bengal was representing the “Bangals” & Mohan Bagan the “Ghotis”. At that time I never knew of this “Ghoti-Bangal” issue. I asked my grandfather which category we belonged. The following conversation was short but sharp.

Me : Amra Ki ? (who are we?)
Grand Father : Bangal
Me : Tumi kake support korchho ? (who are you supporting?)
Grand Father : East Bengal, "Bangal" mane East Bengal supporter. (Bangal imples East Bengal)

Needless to explain from that moment I knew I was East Bengal supporter. Thus association with my club started and still it stands above any other team. One thing was clear if you were a Bengali with Hindu origin you were by default an East Bengal or a Mohan Bagan supporter, you cannot escape the truth. It is a great feeling when you are there at the Salt Lake Stadium for a derby match. It’s a special feeling; you can feel it only when you are there. The ecstasy, the silence all define the moments perfectly. It is not just another match, for some it is bigger than life. It is just there you cannot replace it, the involvement is of the highest order, something beyond the feel materialistic world. Kolkata Derby is one the oldest & famous derbies of the world witnessing crowds of over 120-thousands at times.

But it was around the 1994 when I really became soccer lover. Exposure to international football became easier & inevitable. The World Cup turned me soccer lover. Before that to me Maradona was the only star I had seen and like others sort of worshipped him without understanding anything. 

In 1994 World Cup I saw the Italians, their resilience in Baresi-Maldini and the flair of Baggio. Romerio-Bebeto were doing great job but to me the resilience appeared more attractive than the flair of the game. So, I became an Italian supporter. 

For the next 4-5 years Juventus, AC Milan matches often appeared on Doordarshan during the weekends. Following Italian soccer was now easy. Zidane in Juventus was a treat to watch, hence 1998 World Cup was not a surprise. As a kid or youth looking at the Maldinis and Baggios to me it seemed the Greek Gods have descended to the football field. 

Post 1997 satellite television (cable tv) was in our house, so weekends were special. I enjoyed watching Figo, Rivaldo, Beckham, Nedved besides the Maldinis, Ambrosinis, Cannavaros, Tottis. But I enjoyed watching Rivaldo, mostly because much like a Gladiator, he carried a defence & spirit less Barcelona on his shoulders. Speed was not Rivaldo's key to success, nor eye catching dribbling but a lazy elegance which is rare in soccer, where a thousand things might be going on between the years but not reflecting on the face.

The single most influential player post Maradona era was Zinedine Zidane, but for me it was Steven Gerrard. The man single handedly gave Liverpool the 2005 Champions League trophy from an impossible situation. I was stunned to see AC Milan having taken a 3-0 lead in 1^st half faltered to Steve Gerrard. A typical one man show & this became Gerrard’s trade mark for the next 4-5 years and he continued enjoying the status and pulling out Liverpool from tough situations like 2006 FA Cup final. It was a tragedy the world could not see some one like Steve G not lifting an EPL in his prime or a World Cup or Euro, much like a George Best not playing a World Cup. 

Off late the commercial aspects have killed a lot of the skills of the game. Tackling from behind was an important aspect of the game & post 1990 World Cup it came under huge scanner & this has resulted too much of false dive & easy fouls. Video analysis & Strategies have made the Managers bigger than the Players. This has resulted more trophies/results for the clubs but killed the basic flair of the game.

Note : Picture Courtesy Google

Mohd. Rafi : God’s own voice

Reading the above title one can call me anything, I don’t mind. The truth is at one point of my life I was obsessed with the voice. The way I searched his songs, every time trying to find a new one which I had previously not heard was not less than passion. Once one of my friends asked me what is so special about the voice, I remember telling him give me a voice like that I quit everything. Such was the effect.

Picture Courtesy : www.google.com

It was January 1991 when I first heard Rafi on our 2-in-1 stereo system. At that time I was more interested in the songs of QSQT, Maine Pyar Kiya, Tridev, Dil, Aashiqui, etc. My mother used to buy the cassettes. She bought all sorts of cassettes from the above mentioned films to Rabindra Sangeet, Lata Mangeshkar, etc. When she used to play the “cultural ones” I felt like running away from home. One day she brought the cassette “The Best Of Mohd. Rafi” (a green cover with a smiling Rafi picture on top, an HMV cassette)-seeing it itself I felt it was over for me, I have landed in the age of K. L. Saigal. My mother told me “Sune dekh, tarpor bolis”. She was right and I thank her for that. The cassette started playing, the first song was “Baharon Phool Barsao..”, I felt like sleeping for the next hour. Then after 2 or 3 songs or may be the next song came “Phirkiwali”. Suddenly I was stunned, I heard the song 3 times, my sister went wild, mother did not say anything (perhaps only smiling inside for the victory). For the first time I felt what correct pronunciation of words could do to a song. I had missed the same expressions & effect (till now) with any of his contemporaries or thereafter. Thus began the Rafi Era in 1990s with me.

Time and again I used to visit the roadside cassette shops of me neighbourhood for new new casettes of Rafi’s songs. Or I would make a list of rare songs from those heard over Vivid Bharati and give it to one of my selected shops to make a recorded cassette. Once the shopkeeper took a month to gather all the collections. Thanks to their co-operation, I still have those songs converted into CD. Once I sat at a friend’s house all night transferring all the Rafi Songs from cassette to CD. He had the gadgets by which quality conversion could be made. In the morning he found me still doing the recordings. The situation was urgent as my friend was leaving for Canada the next week. He thought I had gone crazy, may be but the objective was achieved. Later he listened to some of those and found them very special. Once he told me that one day in a very vibrant mood he decided to listen to the song “Lagta nahi dil kahin ..”, his mood changed 180 degrees. He cursed me and thanked me at the same time over the mail. Thanks to him he helped with all those conversions specially the non-film ghazal collection “Kitni rahat hai..”.

At times I used to fight (only verbal) with one my cousins over superiority of Kishore-Rafi (we used to fight over such similar useless superiorities, Monica Seles-Steffi Graph; Sampras-Agassi, Juhi Chawla-Madhuri Dixit—the subjects never knew that they had such good fighters). Statistics like number of filmfare awards, national awards became significant. Later I understood in the end I was making a nuisance of what I liked, so I gave up.

Another interesting thing happened around 2005. By that time pirated mp3 audio CDs had flooded the markets. Everyone had all the collections of a particular artist one could imagine in a single CD. One evening on our casual return from our post office meetings we stopped at one of the hawkers selling the pirated CDs. Casually I picked up one Rafi CD and scrolled down the songs and left it. The man said “Dada jaben na, Rafi r natun gaan achhe anek”. By this time my Rafi collection/obsession was known to my friends. I smiled and left the shop. My friend quickly turned around and said “Rafi r natun ki gaan bolchilen, e bachhor pujote kichhu bar korlo naki, ami to jantam bhadrolok mara gechhen anekdin”—and he left quickly. The shopkeeper went wild and we could hear from the distance he was cursing us.

The most important effect of Rafi on me was it changed my way of listening to music. As the years passed, I understood the words more, their meaning, their correct pronunciation all became increasingly important. Above all poetry of the songs became significant, ghazals  (even Ghalib) were no longer strangers.  Over the years I have enjoyed hearing film music, ghazal masteros, the Indian instrumental legends, Bengal’s legend Ram Kumar Chattopadhyay but GOD will always have a special place, he made the world of music possible for me.