It has been a really long time since I sat down and actually enjoyed football. I can clearly recall how the parents and I would sit down after dinner to watch the late matches of some FIFA World Cup. Baba would take a print out of the schedule and I would dutifully update it.
The 2010 World Cup was an absolute blur and owing to my rubbish Gurgaon PG I didnt even catch the finals.
Ever since I kind of lost track. The occassional twitter feeds informed me of the names, the legendary goals, how the club were faring and how Brazil 2014 might just be an absolute washout! Ankita who manages communications for Carlsberg fed me information on the then impending UEFA Euro 2012. Not that I paid much attention, knowing that I would probably not be able to watch any of the matches.
Coming to Muscat, I saw that nothing much had changed. Ma and Baba were excited as ever about the matches. The print out was ready, preserved in a clear file – Ma was updating scores. Late matches were being watched, expert commentary was being passed, predictions of who would reach the finals were being made, names of players were being mis-prounounced (with absolute grit). I felt as if I was fourteen again.
Obviously I got into the groove quickly – first wondering where Zidane, Lampard and my other favourites had gone, then being struck by realisation that a lot of time had passed. After that I began researching, and remembering -names, clubs, last names and most importantly taking note of the hot men. I’m almost there.
Last night was the epic quarterfinal between England and Italy. Without a shred of doubt, I was waving the Union Jack and Baba had to support the opposing team. After an excruciating no-goal 90 minutes, play was extended to another 30 minutes of extra time leading in nothing but more nail biting tension, enhanced by the saracasm dripping British commentary and London Dairy strawberry icecream. Finally, came the most tense penalty shootouts. After Gerard and Rooney did the Queen proud, came the Ashleys (Cole & Young) and missed two shots and Italy reached the semi-finals to face the formidable Germany. Just like that. Although the match belonged entirely to Italy and Andrea Pirlo – their man with the magic boot, I was nothing less than devastated, especially for England’s blonde goalie, Joe Hart.
Nevertheless, it is safe to say that I am back on the soccer circuit and I intend to stay.
Weekend semis and Sunday, I await you patiently.
Bundesrepublik Deutschland, do me proud please.
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| Futbol! |