Journalism of Courage
Advertisement
Premium

The Beautiful Sight

Houghton8217;s youngsters have few local heroes but many international ones. Bring them all over, as and when they retire, and let nobody say that we shouldn8217;t bother about a sport we are hopelessly inept at

.

Bob Houghton is wrong. And right. India8217;s national coach is correct that the money spent on programmes such as the Maradona extravaganza could be better utilised developing the Beautiful Game in a country with abysmal football aesthetics and a sorrier football reputation. True. Even half that money could open doors and offer guaranteed food bowls to junior and sub-junior players. But India needs these high-profile visits to galvanise the moribund football scene in a country ranked 144th by FIFA, directly under Vanuatu. And spare a thought for Calcutta too. Maradona8217;s visit is the best thing that has happened to the desperate Mecca of Indian football since Peleacute;8217;s in the year the Left Front came to power. Yes, there was Oliver Kahn and there were others. But just one Peleacute; then, and one Maradona now.

Old clicheacute;s on the football-cricket dichotomy in India hold today for every sport that most of the rest of the world gives a damn about. Desperate footballers, ex-footballers and fans, in their inexpressible frustration, privately endorse absurdities like a 20-year moratorium on cricket to resuscitate Indian football. Cricket, with its money bags, has a couple of centuries8217; lead on football and that8217;s that. Houghton cannot be faulted for pointing out where and how money matters. But he knows that we know that.

What Houghton and his kind do not admit the importance of in the Indian context is the value of inspiration, of the pure spectacle. The spectacle never fails football. Diego Armando Maradona kicking a football back at the crowd at Maheshtala, near Batanagar, the home of some of India8217;s finest footballers 8212; Prasun Mukherjee, Sankar Banerjee, Manas Bhattacharya, Shanti Majumdar, Krishnendu Roy 8212; will remain unreal for even those who had their share of flesh-and-blood proximity over the weekend. Given India8217;s football trajectory, the fear is there8217;ll be little left by 2050 except perhaps Goshtho Pal8217;s statue in the Calcutta Maidan. And it isn8217;t just the money: it8217;s the lack of attention.

Those ragged urchins in Maheshtala 8212; not born when the 83rd-minute pass from Maradona to Buruchaga sank the Germans finally in 1986, who didn8217;t see Diego8217;s disgraceful exit from the 1994 Cup, who, in fact, never saw him in action but heard tales and tales of him and of the older master, Peleacute;, of Euseacute;bio against the North Koreans, of Beckenbauer beating Cruyff in 1974 or battling on with a dislocated shoulder in 1970 8212; needed to see El Pibeacute; de Oro in flesh, up close. Those kids might play street football for the next half-year, despite the cricket season. It was a moment when the future residential football academy at Maheshtala was given a chance. Set against the tangible waste of resources on Maradona is the intangible worth of his visit; a visit that, by the logic of released emotion, should trigger a tangible change. Houghton is right about the former, he hasn8217;t weighed the latter. Local kids can say in 2010, 8220;We saw Maradona! He was here,8221; when they will hopefully see him on TV at the World Cup. Till then and thereafter, they should believe they are doing their own Maradonas on the muddy field.

Salt Lake has the second-largest stadium in the world. It has had little to boast about. It will have little to boast about. It shamed itself on December 6 when Maradona left in a huff, angry at the security and crowd mismanagement. Still, his landing at Calcutta was an acknowledgement that we are not yet off the football map altogether. Read it as the periodic injection keeping the patient alive. Read it as the messianic promise of a distant renaissance. Calcutta8217;s football fanaticism is already dying, to go by falling attendance at league matches and the silence on buses and trains about East Bengal-Mohun Bagan. To play the game well, football, unlike cricket and much else, must first become a religion, the way it used to be in the Maidan of yore.

The narrative of disqualification from the 1950 World Cup over the refusal to wear boots, Asiad golds in 1951 and 8217;62, fourth place in the 1956 Melbourne Olympics is dead for Houghton8217;s youngsters. But they still watch the World Cup on TV, which nobody could till the 8217;80s; they have few local heroes but many international ones. Bring them all over, as and when they retire, and let nobody say that we shouldn8217;t bother about a sport we are hopelessly inept at. We must play it well, we must want to play it well. That8217;s the way the parents and grandparents of those thronging Maradona in Calcutta felt; that8217;s the way most of the world feels. Houghton has a lot to give Indian football. He has made the All India Football Federation wake up to scientific training, long-term investment and commitment. He shouldn8217;t now deny his future pupils their brief moment in football8217;s history. It might be the best they8217;ll get for decades.

sudeep.paulexpressindia.com

Curated For You

 

Tags:
Edition
Install the Express App for
a better experience
Featured
Trending Topics
News
Multimedia
Follow Us
Express PremiumIn Kerala, a mob and its many faces
X