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This is an archive article published on August 10, 2003

Fire 038; Zen

From the very first interaction8212;a soft, polite voice on the phone he never fails to answer8212;you know that Bhaichung Bhutia is not y...

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From the very first interaction8212;a soft, polite voice on the phone he never fails to answer8212;you know that Bhaichung Bhutia is not your average sports star. He may be captain of the football team, and almost singlehandedly responsible for the revival of interest in, and fortunes of Indian football. Yet all the fame, the pressures, sit lightly on the lithe, muscular shoulders of the 27-year-old from Tinkitam in Sikkim.

When he walks into the room, dressed in casual cream, a Zen-like calm radiates through his Kolkata Salt Lake flat. It8217;s the morning of a crucial match for East Bengal but Bhaichung, breakfasted and bathed, is at peace.

At peace with himself, he says. He never dreamt of the successes he8217;s achieved, so how could he be anything but happy? Today, the Bhaichung phenomenon is measured not merely in terms of his own success, but wherever Indian football teams do well and it8217;s been happening a lot of late. His effect was seen not so much in Jakarta at the Asean Club Championship, where East Bengal became the first Indian club to win a competition at this level. Rather, it was on the day the team returned to Kolkata. The airport was laid siege to by an estimated 20,000 supporters.

8216;8216;I never dreamt it could be like this. I just wanted to play for East Bengal and do my best. I still don8217;t have any dreams, just the desire to work hard and improve.8217;8217;

Yet for all his calm, there8217;s a fire burning within him, as fierce as the 8216;Fireball8217; red chillies he endorses. It8217;s a streak of competitiveness that immediately brings to mind the new-look Indian cricket team. But there8217;s a difference: Bhaichung is not afraid to risk reputation in his search for improvement.

In 1999, with the Indian football world at his feet, he put it all on the line and went to England to prove himself all over again. He needn8217;t have, so why did he do it? 8216;8216;If you love the sport, if you want to do well, you have to be prepared to start from scratch. I would have been a good footballer if I8217;d continued in India, but I would never have learnt what I did in England.8217;8217;

The stint did him good. Not only did he get to play against Manchester United and pick up a taste for Robbie Williams, but the smooth edges of the simple hill town boy were also roughened up. It wasn8217;t a qualified success, but he learnt aggression and the power of positive thinking.

And still no big head. His trophy cabinet, tucked away in a corner of the neat, wicker-and-white furnished flat, almost pleading to be left alone, holds a fraction of what he8217;s picked up. It8217;s an odd assortment, the Golden Boot from last month rubbing shoulders with the Hero award and mementoes from the Busan Asian Games.

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There8217;s something wrong, you begin to wonder. Here8217;s a man who had to take a three-hour bus ride to Gangtok every time he wanted to watch a match on TV. Who now earns some Rs 20-25 lakh a year, is coveted by every club in India and by several abroad. And yet, the only visible sign of an ego is his rapt attention when any story related to him appears on TV. What helps him keep his feet on the ground?

8216;8216;You have to be yourself. If you can do that from Day 1, I don8217;t think you8217;ll have any problems keeping things in perspective. Even today I try and keep a normal lifestyle; I go out, walk on the streets. Sometimes fans will come up and talk, but I don8217;t keep my distance from them.8217;8217;

Being the youngest of a close-knit family helps. 8216;8216;Back home, they don8217;t know me as a footballer, I8217;m just another village boy. In fact, my mum still says I should give up this football and come home.8217;8217;

Actually, he hasn8217;t spent much time at home. He grew up in a succession of boarding schools, grooming his prodigious talent. He was only 16 when he signed up with East Bengal, a club with whom he now has a mutual admiration society. Two years later, he played his first match in India colours; his speed, skill and presence of mind marked him out even then.

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Today, he8217;s added one vital asset to that list: dependability. His coaches know they can count on him and he8217;s almost made a habit out of scoring vital goals. Think Tendulkar and you get an idea of the burden he carries. Add to that the flag he flies for Sikkim and the simple fact that every goal he does score, or misses, impacts the slow but steady progress of Indian football.

Ask him this, though, and his reply is emphatic the only time he interrupts: You play for yourself, that8217;s the first, most important thing. Everything else follows. If you let yourself down, you let everyone else down.

The 8216;letting down8217; business looms large in his legend. He8217;s generous to a fault, especially to his fellow Sikkimese. When asked to confirm a story that he once gave away a car to an acquaintance because it wasn8217;t available in Gangtok, he laughs. 8216;8216;I had it, he wanted it8230; his need was greater. And whatever you give comes back to you8230;8217;8217;

His emphasis on character and commitment extends to his friends; among his closest buddies is Leander Paes. 8216;8216;What I really like about him is he8217;s always ready to fight, he always plays with so much passion.8217;8217;

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What Bhaichung values most in a footballer8212;and possibly in fellow human beings too8212;is the right attitude: a positive frame of mind and confidence in one8217;s ability. 8216;8216;The one thing Indian football needs is guidance from the very young level. Talent is important, it can take you somewhere but without the right attitude, you won8217;t get far.8217;8217;

His favourite player is someone who had lots of talent and lots of attitude, too, but let it all slip away. Without confidence and a certain arrogance, Bhaichung points out, Diego Maradona would never have conceptualised what is now considered to be the greatest goal ever: at the 1986 world cup, he waltzed past half the English defence before slotting the ball home.

Yet Maradona8212;whose biography Hand of God by Jimmy Burns sits on his bookshelf alongside Lord of the Rings8212;rapidly degenerated into a farce. So, too, did another Bhutia hero, George Best, who allowed wine and women to cut short his career at age 26. Given that he8217;s in a similar position in the Indian context, does that scare him? 8220;The greatest pressure comes from within. And if I can match up to my own expectations, then nothing else really matters.8217;8217; He brings up the Beckham example. 8216;8216;There is a lot of hype and other distractions but he8217;s proved that he can deliver.8217;8217;

There8217;s an interesting dichotomy to Bhaichung8217;s character. He is naturally reserved, shy8212;8216;8216;Sikkimese take a long time to open up. Once they do that, they make friends for life but it won8217;t happen overnight8217;8217;8212;yet he has made a name as a captain. Unlike in cricket, where the art of captaincy relies more on brain than heart, a football team captain has to inspire, exhort, provoke. It8217;s a much more physical role, so how does he deal with it?

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8216;8216;It8217;s not been very difficult. Most Indian footballers are simple boys from ordinary families. I haven8217;t had a problem; it helps that I8217;ve played in England, I have gained much more experience at my age than some players older than me. So they come to me when there is a problem.8217;8217;

Like 53 million others around the world, Bhaichung admires Manchester United, for their amazing team spirit. United8217;s captain is Roy Keane, whose manner of exhortation8212;albeit inspirational8212; often involves a clip around the ear. Does he see himself doing that with an errant teammate? 8216;8216;Not really, I would talk to the player and explain where he8217;s going wrong. If that doesn8217;t work, I8217;ll scream,8217;8217; he says, half-embarrassed that he would actually have to raise his voice.

It8217;s nearing the end of the interview and you realise you still haven8217;t cracked the aura of self-belief and modesty. One last question should do the trick. When he retires, how would he like to be remembered? Goalscorer par excellence, Indian captain, crorepati footballer, the first Indian to play in England8230; 8216;8216;I think I have made it possible for my colleagues and peers to dream. That will be my legacy. I have given them the confidence to think big, that if they work hard, if they are true to themselves and their profession, they can make it.8217;8217;

It8217;s three in the afternoon. Three hours to kick-off. As Bhaichung gets ready for the drive to the club, he almost resembles any other 20-something preparing for a night on the town. Baseball cap, T-shirt, baggy jeans, heavy on deo. The car stereo blares Robbie Williams8217;s Rock DJ. Except Bhaichung Bhutia isn8217;t about to dance with girls. As he8217;s done for the past decade, he8217;ll be waltzing past his opponents on the way to achieving his goals.

 

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