“Yaaawwnn! Yeh match penalties mein jaaega. (Yaaawwnn!
This match will be decided by penalties)”
For a certain “dubious” dude watching the grand
denouement of a revolution called the “birth of a footballing nation,” penalties
seemed to be the perfect ending to an insipid formality. One could sense the
excitement in the air on December 20th, 2014. Not because India was on the
brink of crowning its first ever Indian Super League champion, but because not
anymore would one have to make a spiritless effort to like something that made
no sense to begin with.
YouTube could now
be watched freely again.
Meanwhile, approximately 36 kilometers away, a ‘cricket’
stadium was busy buzzing with close to 36000 fans that, knowingly or unknowingly,
were minutes away from being a part of a match that culminated in the most ‘Solskjaer-esque’
manner possible.
The official attendance was 42,840, but I quote the
figure ‘close to 36000’ because trains were to be caught, taxis were to be
boarded, autos were to be shared and ‘oolta chashmas’ were to be viewed. And
all this had to be done once the game hit the 80-minute mark because let’s face
it – “Sirf das minute hi toh reh gaye
the. (Only 10 minutes were left)”
At the same time, somewhere inside the stadium, the
greatest sports presenter in the country, while taking out his ‘Man United
wallet’ and ‘Man United-cased iPhone’, was sitting back relaxing with his ‘Man
United loafers’ on top of a table probably thinking about how cool it would be
to buy a ‘Man United shirt’ with his ‘overtime incentive’ considering the match
was heading into extra time. The time was close to 2045hrs and according to his
‘Man United watch’ he had a good 30 minutes before work.
“It’s 90 minutes,” he
thought. “This one’s over. It’s heading
into extra time. I shall open Wikipedia at around the 118th minute to research
the goalscorer.” And maybe had things gone according to plan then we could
have witnessed some top notch quality questions like “How did you feel playing amidst so many Bollywood starlets?” Or some
other questions that would have involved stellar words like “long ball”, “clean
sheet”, “through ball” and would have made John Dykes, Andrew Leci and Joe
Morrison rethink their lives.
Little did he know that a lad from West Bengal would be
cutting short his free period and be forcing him to do his homework a lecture
early - only there was no lecture.
“Podany takes the
corner… Mohammed Rafique heads it in and it’s a GOOOOAAALLL.” The greatest
presenter in the world almost choked on the water he was drinking from his ‘Man
United bottle’ and rushed towards the field. He was now scheduled to be on air
in approximately T-10 minutes wearing some sort of god forsaken sherwani asking
the first thing that popped into his mind.
“Rafique, kya aapne
pehele kabhi goal maara hai? (Rafigue, have you ever scored a goal before?),” came
the question.
Mr. ‘Greatest Presenter in the World’ had just asked the ‘Greatest
Question in the World’ on the air for a production that was being watched by
close to 57 million viewers. So magnanimous was the question’s greatness that my
colleague and I remained speechless for more than 13 minutes.
The above instances mean just one thing. That for a country
that claims to be ready to start the whole “rejuvenation of football” process,
it’s not really ready in reality. Neither are the people. The fact that we’re
ranked a disappointing 171 in the world substantiates that claim. Don’t get me
wrong, there are people who want good things for Indian football. But the
majority wants something else. Abhishek Bachchan, John Abraham, Ranbir Kapoor.
This dismal list goes on.
On the other hand, the broadcasters seem to have gone one
step further. At a time when the ball was in their court to indeed milk the
whole “birth of a footballing nation” phenomenon, they’ve cleverly shown it as
just a piece of lucrative business that meant nothing but filling a slot on air
that would have gone down otherwise as a waste of “hard disk” space. The ball
has been dropped and what a time to drop it.
It’s been close to 20 days since the shimmering tournament
came to an end. The ‘1st Champion’ has been crowned. All the promos have now
become an epitome of being called ‘platitudinous’. But most importantly – the money
has reached where it is supposed to reach. All the transactions have cleared.
People have gone around their usual business. They think
that the football is done and dusted till next year. The marquee players have
gone back. The redoubtable coaches have as well. Close to two months of continuous
football is more than enough they think. The people want something new now they
think. People are bored of the football now they think. After all, even Bigg
Boss ends after close to 3 months.
They could NOT be any more wrong.
I know that I’m a ‘nobody’ when it comes to the
governance of Indian football. What do I know? All I am is just another feeble
character in the tale of the unsung story of football mismanagement. For what
it’s worth, I might even be mythical as my tumultuous roar is what people call deafening
silence.
But I know one thing for sure. What I want is what will
save Indian football from the depths of despair.
The Indian Super League did award plenty of glorious
awards to a handful of the Indian stars at the end of the league. They did even
quote it as an “emergence of young talent”. Mission 2026 they said. But what
now? Does anyone know where they are now? “They
might be taking rest. It was a long season,” I can almost hear the broadcasters
saying at this very moment. Oh! The chutzpah! Unrivalled indeed!
They might be taking rest. But during the half-time
breaks when they’re playing the elite Federation Cup. ISL helped India see a
number of prime players - Romeo Fernandes, Sandesh Jhingan, Baljit Sahni,
Balwant Singh to name a few. Some of whom have scored goals in the Federation
Cup as well. Wouldn’t it have been great if we could have seen them in action
once ISL was over? But it cannot happen. Why? Because of commercials I guess.
Who cares about sports when there’s no money involved, right?
Well I care. But do I matter? I guess not.
Asking for the coverage of the Federation Cup, or even
the I-League for that matter, is a little too much considering that even the
late Phil Hughes could not find his way on to the Broadcaster segments. We
rather see some hackneyed “all-rounder” shows that portray the “triumphs” and
the “great knocks” of legends that played during the time when TV was just a
luxury instead of a necessity.
I know that I want to know each and every day before I go
to bed what happened in 1996 when India took on Sri Lanka in the World Cup
Group match in New Delhi. Or how “perfect” a certain Test temperament is. Or
maybe how “awesome” an off spinner is. And let’s not forget a “swinging” virtuoso.
And if it’s not the case of commercials, it all comes
down to the TRPs. What does TRP even stand for? Total Ridiculous Protocols!?
Maybe!
I wonder what the TRP would have been had we been treated
to an Indian Super Cup. I-League champions – Bengaluru FC – facing the Indian
Super League champions – Atletico de Kolkata. But will it happen? I guess not.
Why? I guess it’s too complicated.
Whoever came up with the idea of making the viewing of
sports directly proportional to the TRPs was an idiot of the highest order who
perhaps did not understand sport and had nothing to do while on vacation with
his fifth cousin twice removed and decided to effectuate sport’s ‘perfect
murder’.
There will come a day when commercials will force sports
to die an untimely death. But the irony of the situation is that even then the
sports funeral will not be televised because all that would be shown are the
commercials. Am getting carried away, isn’t it? Nah! I’m just worried about the
sanctity of sports.
What’s that they ask? My point I say. It’s moot. I’m not wasting my time anymore. It’s a lost cause.
