The Last Spartan

It was a morning… probably wasn’t even 7 days that we have just arrived at Senior Section being part of Class VII English Medium. The PT teacher (I can’t recall his name) was absent. Walks in a dark, short guy in white shirt, grey trousers and black chappals. Students of both the sections stood still in attention. It was supposed to be a PT Class. There ought to be some action… some physical exercise… or so we thought and I definitely believed in.

What happens instead is this man starts off with a lecture, “Na tomader Shram-e aniha… tomra shromik na… ami shromik, amar moddhe shromik-er rakto boichhe.” I was standing in the 3^rd row of the 1^st file of our section. I was wondering what’s going on… and he went on… “Spartacus… amar moddhe Spartan rakto boichhe…”. Spartacus was fresh in my memories… it was the final chapter of History in Class VI. Tell me what would you do if you were in my shoes? Nope… my Keds?

Exactly, Bingo!!! You are absolutely correct… you would have nodded and given a wry smile in agreement. Even I did the same. Nothing more… nothing less.

And then…? “Na, tumi emon korte paro na…” *THYAAAI THYAAAI THAAAI* “Tumi ebhabe Shromik-ke asamman korte paro na..” *THYAAAI THYAAAI THAAAI* “Na tomar toh kono dosh nei… kintu Ami Spartacus” *THYAAAI THYAAAI THAAAI*…  and so he spoke and then there was action and again he spoke…and again there was action and again he spoke… and again there was action… after 20 minutes and when PT was over, I kept wondering what was that!

I was introduced to Shri Arun Kr Das… and so were my classmates.

Next day he held my hand and hugged me tight.

I was travelling today with my colleagues in a place called Boisar (near Tarapore if that rings a bell) and visiting business partners… when I saw the post on FB by Aniruddha Hom Choudhury. I didn’t knew what to do… I wanted to write but couldn’t write anything. It was the final call of the day… I got out of the car and asked my colleagues to excuse me and go ahead. I stood there and cudn’t help tears flowing down behind the dark glasses.

It dawned that I belong to the age where individuals who have shaped you are blessing you for the final time.

I wouldn’t have been writing this piece had it not been another tagging from Sankhadip again on that post. I don’t believe in writing obituaries.

Arun Da earned the respect from everyone… not sure why he ever felt that he wasn’t respected… the students certainly did. Simple living, simple words… he is a simple man. And probably being simple is not easy. And I am sure he never made an effort to be so.

I can still see the man in white t-shirt and black shorts running around to tell me and Debanjan how to interchange the positions… while Debanjan can move in from the left wing to the centre, I move out to the left taking a defender along to create the space.

It was Class IX and it was the first game of the senior school football tournament against Class VIII. We were horrible. Somehow we managed to score a goal and we won. While we were coming out, he looked at Sumanta Mukherjee and me and gave a smile and looked away… and said, “Khela-ta khub bhalo hoyni… maane khub baaje holo khela-ta”.

I have not seen a man in my life as “সত” and “নির্ভেজাল”as Arun Da. I have not. He was from the old school thoughts. Those were the days when day and night cricket was catching up and one day I arrived at practice wearing all black… in fact 2 of us… me and Himanshu Shekhar. After the practice, he told me not wear black from the next day. He was a believer in simplicity and he had immense respect for the tradition. Probably, that was his way showing respect to the game in the purest form.

At cricket practice, he used to throw the ball so hard while giving you catching practice. My palms just shrunk as I write this sentence.

During the annual exhibitions, Games & Sports Department became my home from Class VII onwards. Arun Da simply used to ask, “Girbban, ebar ki? Dekhe nish ektu”.

1993… We were in Class X and Inter Mission Football Tournament was being organised. I was part of the first XI… and unfortunately, I had a bad knee. I was not practicing for days. I used to come to the ground with a bandaged knee and sit out. Arun Da was disappointed with me… I could feel that. He wasn’t talking with me too even after I started practicing. A day before the finals, he made all of us take penalty kicks in the practice. I was the only one who scored 10 on 10. Koustoov scored 9 of 10. Next day, the final was against RKM Midnapore. They went ahead by a goal in 1^st half. We pressed hard, tried hard… we had our chances and closest we came when my shot was headed out by their defender from goal-line. Minutes after that and with 10 odd minutes remaining and much to surprise of many, Arun Da substituted me. 3 minutes from the close of play, we were awarded a penalty but unfortunately we missed the same and thus we lost the game too.

Next day morning, we were all for PT in front of Saradananda Bhavan. The man comes along in white shirt and grey trousers… looking very disappointed and dejected. He spoke, “Kaal aamra bhalo kheleo here gelam… amar-o ekta bhul hoyechhilo… Girbban ke takhon tule na neowa uchit hoyni. O thakle penalty-ta maarte parto.” This man need not have said this in front of 120 guys. He didn’t have to. There wasn’t any guarantee that Girbban would have scored from the spot!!!

Arun Da, He never made another one like You. He never will again.

Dekha habe.

ISL: Why I want it to succeed?

I was born in a family that played football (from my childhood, it has been football for me, soccer came in pretty late)... so the love from the game was inborn... rather I was sucked in to it.

I was also born in a family that played football for Mohun Bagan... and I was born a Mohun Bagan supporter. Childhood implied Mohun Bagan vs East Bengal. Reading the newspapers, listening to the radio (TV was still a luxury), memorising the names of the players of BIG 3, discussing with my father after his office hours on what was going to happen and what will happen and why it happened what happened.

But childhood did not only imply Mohun Bagan vs East Bengal... childhood also implied and evoked interest in Indian football... I knew even India played football against other countries in the world and India competed well against them. I am talking about the 80s. In my late 30s now, I can distinctly remember, India used to play lot many Asian countries and with China, we were even-steven... we drew with them couple of times, lost sometimes and even won a few. I still clearly remember the goal Bhaskar Ganguly conceded in the Asian Games Quarter Final against Saudi Arabia in the final minutes of the game (TV came to our house for the 1982 Asiad). I can vividly recall there were quite a few occasions where we were better than the likes of Koreans. The SAF countries were runovers for us.

I can recall having gone to Eden Gardens to watch India play Yugoslavia in a Nehru Gold Cup match and I think India won as well.

I can recall the 1^st football match that was played at Yuba Bharati Krirangan and India lost by only a sole goal against Argentina (a back-volley by long-haired Gareca... I liked Gareca for his looks).

India played football.

Not sure... why and how we lost the plot and the game. May be we are the ones to blame. We did not nurture nor have the patience to build on.

What happened in meanwhile was 1983... and 1985... and 1987. India won the Prudential Cup, Benson & Hedges World Series Cup and hosted the Reliance World Cup. Cricket became a part of our excitement... we could see ourselves as world beaters and champions. We could see billboards up for the Srikkanths, Shastris, Kapils, Azhars but none for the Sudeeps, Sisirs, Krishanus and Sabirs.

Soon Bengal won a Ranji Trophy and we had a “Dada”.

And Football in Calcutta was no more the 1^st preference. And parents in Bengal saw an option in Cricket apart from IITs and JEEs.

The rich stopped playing football... it is a difficult game, it is a physical game. The poor wanted to become rich and turned to cricket (albeit it being a costly game) with a hope they could nurture it. The rest who loved the game, played the game and yet couldn’t afford the meals and the strength to match up with the physicality and the brute force of the 2^nd rung foreigners who came to play the game in India. And soon we had very few quality players from Bengal and from rest of India. So, all it turned to was... the better the foreign recruits, more is your chance of winning CFL, NFL and so on.

I don’t know if schools in Calcutta play football nowadays. I am sure they play cricket.

Long back when I used to meet Sahu Mewalal (an Olympian and the man who scored India's winning goal in the finals of Asian Games in 1951... in case you didn’t know), he used to tell me that for a footballer food is very important. You have to eat for you will have to have the strength and stamina to fight out for 90 minutes and more... and it is not about the 90 minutes because a lot goes in to making you ready for those 90 minutes. I have heard enough stories from someone who used to run from his home in Paikpara to Maidan every morning to attend practice and save the pocket money to ensure he had 10 bananas post practice.

The same was echoed by Sushil Bhattacharya (He was a footballer, went on to be an assistant to Bagha Shome and was the 1^st football coach of East Bengal) when he came to train us at Ramakrishna Mission Ashrama, Narendrapur. He said, “You guys are lucky... you have brains, so you are here at RKM and you guys eat well... so you can develop the brawn too. Football needs Brains and Strength in equal measure.”

I agree even more today.

The game needs money. The game needs the rich to come forward. ISL has got the rich come forward with the investment the game badly needs.

ISL is hope for the rural centres that play with stitched footballs in their para... the ISL can be an option for Calcutta to start kicking the round ball once more... the ISL can be the arena for future Vijayans of the country. In Mumbai, I have seen guys and girls from reputed schools play soccer with the best available kits every week by paying rent for a turf... and so I am also not surprised when I see the Ranbirs, the Abhisheks, the Dinos and the Sohails meeting up to play a game in Bandra regularly, on a Sunday afternoon in the most competitive spirit. Alongside, I also see the guys from not so well to do families kick the ball in the middle-class by lanes of Santa Cruz (Raju Gaikwad is a resident of this locality) and on the premises of the Vakola church. I feel happy to see them play and once in a while even I show them that I kick it as well when the ball comes out of play. ;-)

ISL is the hope for Indian football.

Concerns have been expressed on whether ISL will sustain beyond the first edition. People are worrying whether the “money-bags” would like to burn their coffers for few more years. My hunch tells me ISL will grow bigger over next 2 years. If the current ISL has lined up marquees of 32-35 plus, the next 2 years will see younger players coming over to play in India.

Why do I say so? Well for the 1^st time in my lifetime, the world is talking about Indian Football... people in Brazil, in Europe, in every part of the world has come to know about ISL... they are talking about Indian Football... Zico, Del Piero, Trezeguet, Pires and their kind have done a great service to our nation... and I say this even before the whistle has been blown and the ball rolled. This will only increase over time. Because for the world, India is still a market with 125 crores of population. We can afford to have 10 “world class” football teams with that kind of population.

You can question me, “population toh aageo chhilo, dada?” When was the last time did any of our players train with the best facilities of the European countries? When was the last time that we got to rub our shoulders with legends? When was the last time did we feel good about playing football? When was the last time would our parents have proudly announced to their world that their son visited Spain for playing football?

This is happening for the 1^st time in India... for football in India.

If we can have the likes of Zico, David James stay over with their assignments for next 3-4 years, we can surely expect a sea change in the football infrastructure that we have. The legends will surely protect their individual reputation and pride. We need to give them that space and believe in their vision for the game. As supporters, followers and lovers of the game, I hope we will be little more patient than what we are with our clubs. I hope we will have parents all over the country who will take their kids to watch the beautiful game at the stadiums. I hope we have a dreamer in each one of us... who can dream to see their kids play a world cup 10-12 years down the line. I am one. I would like to believe that India can once more win the Gold in Asian Games. ISL can just be that catalyst to revive the sport in India.

ISL is hope and challenge for Indian Football that needs to succeed. May the Best Team and Indian Football win.

PS: What happens to Mohun Bagan and East Bengal?

As a player will I not expect the facilities that I can have during ISL to be replicated in my club team? If I play well in ISL, will it not open up possibilities to play in clubs across the globe?

I just hope (and I am not very confident) that our club officials take this as an opportunity to learn from ISL and not close their eyes living in the paradise that we have the support of millions. To keep going, we need the support of our next generations and probably, they are more conversant about the Del Pieros and the Anelkas than about the Sanjus and Jejes. If they do not realise the same, time will come soon... when they will remain the king but without the kingdom... as they say, no one wants to stay on a sinking ship and everyone looks for greener pastures.