It is midnight in the south Indian state of Kerala. My clock says half an hour past one. But the thunderous festivities from the lively streets outside my apartment suggest otherwise. I rubbed my eyes to confirm the time.
“Whats happening here?! Christmas Carol?!” I mumble.
My wife reminds me in a soft note, “Messi’s Argentina won the world cup just a few hours back, don’t you remember?!”
My eight year old son, who had drained every bit of his energy, cheering for and celebrating the ultimate victory of his sporting hero, sleeps peacefully beside me, clad in a white number 10 jersey with sky blue stripes.
In a nation which is blindly in love with the so-called ‘gentleman’s game’, no other sport has managed to assume a stature anywhere closer, not in the past four decades or so.
But here’s a small strip of land in the southern tip of the peninsula, where legions of football fans take to the streets on a cold December night to watch a South American team locking horns with the reigning champions from Europe for the crowning glory of the game.
In this part of the world, cricket is a matter of national pride; but football is an emotion; a passion that runs deep in the veins.
Pele or Maradona, Beckham or Figo, Zidane or Klose, Lewandowski or Suarez – no matter what the genealogy or nationality is, takers are aplenty in ‘God’s own country’ for the heroes of the game. Fan-made effigies of Messi, Neymar and Ronaldo may stand close together and wink a smile at you, from the picturesque riverbanks and verdant valleys of Kerala villages. Players divided by continents are united in the walkways here by the unique passion for the game.
This transcending penchant for the game in a tiny pocket of the cricket-crazy subcontinent was a revelation that surprised the world during the just concluded football fiesta. But that was not all..
From the kick-off round which jolted the eventual champions with an abrupt end to their 36-match undefeated streak; to the knock-outs which saw an African team leapfrogging it’s rivals to gatecrash the prediction charts for the semifinals; and to the final showdown which swayed back and forth until that destined moment of ceremonial crowning of Lionel Messi as the most accomplished player of all time – this tournament kept throwing up surprises at each stage, making it a true rollercoaster ride for the teams and the fans alike.
As I were to realise later, the surprises were far from over!!
The day after the grand finale, as I walked back home in the evening, expecting to see my ‘little Messi’ having a roll with the ball on the grass, what awaited me was an inexplicably quiet playing area.
To my astonishment, the boy was spotted indoors in the company of his friend, mesmerizingly bound to the palpable excitement of the finger game they were playing – ‘Rock, paper, scissors’.
Is this the same boy who was kicking imaginary footballs in air last night, craving to emulate the heroics of the one whose name he was bearing on his jersey?! Was all that excitement meant to be too short-lived? Inspite of all the inspiration garnered for daily physical activity, are we back to square one?!! My heart sank..
“Son, how do you master football by sitting in a corner and making gestures with your hands. Football is a physical sport- a game of agility, fitness and finesse.”
“But Appa, one needs to practise this as well to win the world cup!!” – he retorted dismissively, without taking eyes off his playmate’s hand.
“What?!”- I was shell-shocked.
“You mean to say that they won the cup by sheer luck, and not skills?”
“Rock paper scissors is not about luck, Appa. It’s about mind-reading skills. Didn’t you see who snatched the game in the end last night?!!”
I was flabbergasted.
As I quietly sank into the sofa staring blankly at their hand game and reminiscing the final moments of the penalty shoot-out, the logic behind the eight-year-old’s observation slowly dawned on my senescing wits.
Despite Messi’s wizardry, despite De Maria’s brilliance, despite all the exuberance and exhilaration that lasted 120 minutes of scintillating soccer, as the evasive moment of glory refused to side up with either of the teams, it was the intuitive accuracy of one man, that cracked the impasse and sealed the history for Messi’s marauders – Emiliano Martinez, the man with the golden gloves.
As my son stared at his playmate’s eyes in anticipation of making the next gesture, the towering image of a vibrant Martinez jouncing under the bar flashed before my eyes.
On that historic night of fluctuating fortunes, as Emiliano Martinez geared up to face the penalty kicks, three out of his four dives were spot-on, as if he was reading the striker’s mind. Even Kylian Mbappe would have let out a huge sigh of relief, as his high octane strike jostled past the clairvoyant goalkeeper’s left hand into the nets.
Rock, paper or scissors – Right, left or centre!
In the run-up to the world cup, could Martinez have been mastering the meditative art of guessing the rocks, papers, and scissors with his masterly hands day in and day out, as the little one seemed to suggest?!
Well, whether he was or not, as ‘little Messi’ rightly pointed out, mind games win football matches too!!
I withdrew quietly from the scene with a smile of enlightenment, as their little hands geared up for the next ‘penalty kick’!!
