A 25 yard volley, an ankle crunching sliding tackle and a perfectly executed through ball are things that increase the level of serotonin (happiness inducing hormone) in my body. Football has been way more than just a game for me (you must have heard this phrase being used by a billion people trillion times, but I guess that is why they call it the world’s most followed religion).
I was a perfect Indian at birth. Yes, growing up to be a diehard cricket fan. Knowing the names of all cricketers and fighting with friends about the better one. My long summer holiday afternoons were spent in playing world cup simulations between me and my verandah wall. I was on the perfect track to become a world class cricketer.
It was in School where I learnt all my lessons, in every literal and metaphorical sense. My first coach was Mr. Balwinder Singh (lovingly called DP sir), a typical PTI for his English and antiques, but, having a heart of pure gold. Our PT/Games periods were mostly spent practicing Football (he liked making us believe we were doing the very same with the amazing trapping and kicking techniques).
But how so less he knew, those 40 minutes of running behind the ball and trying to score were my discovery of fire and wheel of the Stone Age.
But cricket still fascinated me a lot more, (‘hooked me’ or’ kept me addicted’ would be better phrases). We had inter House sport tournaments for the Primary and Senior sections. In early classes I eased into both Football and Cricket teams for my house, faring well in both of them. Yes, I was still on course to be the next Sachin Tendulkar.
In summer vacations we had a camp organized at school, Football from 6 to 7 am, and Cricket from 7 to 9 am. I registered immediately. For cricket ofcourse. But as the bus would only ply at 6 and 9 am, I took the lesser sport anyway. I always played the first sport because DP sir liked me. Football was just an hour of fun with friends before some intense practicing of the god sport.
Getting into senior year was the turning point. The other wing of the school building’s water was dirty. Because of it, I didn’t get into the school cricket team. DP sir now was done with his indirect hints, and sent me back from the next cricket trials towards a Football practice happening across the field. That day I sulked a lot and then came to a conclusion that my verandah’s wall was the culprit.
I was now fat and slow, and fat. Football can’t be played by slow fat people.
Then like a knight in shining armour came Mr Deepak, St. Kabir’s first football coach(he is still there I guess), and that knight expectedly deemed me unfit. After a lot of running, and sprinting and then running, and maybe some jogging, I was given 2 bananas (literally) as an award for being the most improved player.( I lost a few kilos, was sharp and could kick the ball amazingly well (please let me boast)). Bananas have been my favorite fruit ever since. I was made a defender (thought myself to be a striker (and a cricketer) before) because of my built and style of play. Was also called the ‘Shaktiman truck’ because of the same. Deepak sir made us love this game. He made players out of noobs. In simpler terms, he taught us to kick instead of using the toe. Chaddah, Jimmy, Bunny, Mani, Guri, Grover, Bedi and a lot more friends got tied to each other for a lifetime by bruising each other’s shins and then bonding over classroom snacking afterwards.
Sliding tackles and long burly clearances have remained my life since then. They have been the pole star to the fast running life that is almost on the verge of pulling me away from my carefree youth. The sight of goalposts and a Football still bring that big smile onto my face and makes my howsoever tired, but jealous legs run behind that striker to bring him down and keep the spirit of the beautiful game alive in me.
I will leave a cup of coffee for a mug of Beer, a mug of Beer for a hot teetoddler woman, and everyone of them for a crazy ankle twisting game of football.
Scribble Magic 