...worth experiencing is SPORT". These are the famous words of a great intellectual. It’s a pity, then, that with so much editorial space being devoted to discussing the physical attributes of the game, so little is reserved for the emotional aspect. We spend endless hours debating the skill of Sachin, the creativity of Kaka, the guile of Warne, the magic of Ronaldo, the strength of Pollard, the resilience of Rooney and yet we rarely ever dwell on the emotional connect that binds the players, the fans, the Gaffer and the club. What is it that makes a 70 year old dour Manager, who’s spent a lifetime giving lifeless interviews, jump like a school kid at the sight of an injury time goal? What is it that makes absolute strangers hug each other after watching a last ball six? What is it that makes a player spend all his life at a single club despite being lured by much better compensation at greener pastures? What is it that makes players suffer the most painful of injuries without as much as a grimace, but cry like a toddler after failing (and in some cases succeeding) at the final hurdle.
Picture This. The First Kick: You step on the ground for the first time in your life as a second half substitute. The score reads 2-2 with your team needing a victory to stand a chance of lifting the trophy. Half the people in the audience don’t even know your name. Before you can enjoy the moment, a fine pass finds you one on one with the defender with the last few seconds left on the clock. You get only one chance and there is only one small corner of the goal to aim for. The ball curls around the outstretched fingers of the keeper and into the top corner sending 70,000 people into delirium. You have arrived and your name is Federico Macheda.
Now Picture This. The Last Bow: You have spent most of your career with a single club winning all kinds of silverware. Now, at the fag end of your career you are playing in an important derby match where only a victory for that club will ensure that it avoids relegation. The final 20 minutes remain. With the score tied at 0-0, a clever pass finds you unmarked and with a delectable back heel you force the ball into the back of the net. Then, realization dawns. A transfer at the start of the season to the Club’s city rivals means that with your last touch of a football you have actually managed to relegate your beloved club. You are immediately substituted and you exit without celebrating your last goal. Your have just played your last game and your name is Dennis Law.
These two moments – the first step and the last bow - are forever etched in the memory of every player. However, it is the events that occur between these two that end up defining the sportsman. On his day, he is worshipped like a God by his legion of fans. On another, they call for his blood like a Roman Emperor declaring the fate of a fallen Gladiator. Over the years, he is cheered and jeered, worshipped and ostracized, welcomed by clubs like a Messiah and shunted out like dead wood. Most players wither away over the arduous journey, some prove to be efficient servants of the game, but very few build an ever-lasting bond with the fans which gives them the right to be called LEGENDS (not to be confused with Galacticos.)
For a club, the story is no different. It’s a roller coaster ride from the heights of Silverware to the abysmal depths of relegation. From the peaks of a last minute derby victory to the valleys of a home thrashing. One day the fan is emperor, the very next leaves him gutted. But he won’t have it any other way. Even with the odds stacked against him, the only word that he utters is ‘Believe’. This belief is not gained overnight. It has a history. It comes after a journey which spans over decades involving a million heartbreaks and ecstasies. Every decade adds hundreds of players who give their sweat and blood to the club and thousands of fans who give their hearts. It’s the agglomeration of all these decades that transforms a feeder club into a Theatre of Dreams. This basic fact is forgotten by most clubs today chasing instant success. There is no patience in a world where managers are expected to deliver quicker than instant coffee.
So the question that begs to be asked to all such clubs is this. With all the millions that your rich Arab owner pours in, you can buy the best players, the most successful Gaffer and probably even the odd trophy, but can all those millions buy you even a small but glorious piece of history and the resulting emotional connect?
Picture This. The First Kick: You step on the ground for the first time in your life as a second half substitute. The score reads 2-2 with your team needing a victory to stand a chance of lifting the trophy. Half the people in the audience don’t even know your name. Before you can enjoy the moment, a fine pass finds you one on one with the defender with the last few seconds left on the clock. You get only one chance and there is only one small corner of the goal to aim for. The ball curls around the outstretched fingers of the keeper and into the top corner sending 70,000 people into delirium. You have arrived and your name is Federico Macheda.
Now Picture This. The Last Bow: You have spent most of your career with a single club winning all kinds of silverware. Now, at the fag end of your career you are playing in an important derby match where only a victory for that club will ensure that it avoids relegation. The final 20 minutes remain. With the score tied at 0-0, a clever pass finds you unmarked and with a delectable back heel you force the ball into the back of the net. Then, realization dawns. A transfer at the start of the season to the Club’s city rivals means that with your last touch of a football you have actually managed to relegate your beloved club. You are immediately substituted and you exit without celebrating your last goal. Your have just played your last game and your name is Dennis Law.
These two moments – the first step and the last bow - are forever etched in the memory of every player. However, it is the events that occur between these two that end up defining the sportsman. On his day, he is worshipped like a God by his legion of fans. On another, they call for his blood like a Roman Emperor declaring the fate of a fallen Gladiator. Over the years, he is cheered and jeered, worshipped and ostracized, welcomed by clubs like a Messiah and shunted out like dead wood. Most players wither away over the arduous journey, some prove to be efficient servants of the game, but very few build an ever-lasting bond with the fans which gives them the right to be called LEGENDS (not to be confused with Galacticos.)
For a club, the story is no different. It’s a roller coaster ride from the heights of Silverware to the abysmal depths of relegation. From the peaks of a last minute derby victory to the valleys of a home thrashing. One day the fan is emperor, the very next leaves him gutted. But he won’t have it any other way. Even with the odds stacked against him, the only word that he utters is ‘Believe’. This belief is not gained overnight. It has a history. It comes after a journey which spans over decades involving a million heartbreaks and ecstasies. Every decade adds hundreds of players who give their sweat and blood to the club and thousands of fans who give their hearts. It’s the agglomeration of all these decades that transforms a feeder club into a Theatre of Dreams. This basic fact is forgotten by most clubs today chasing instant success. There is no patience in a world where managers are expected to deliver quicker than instant coffee.
So the question that begs to be asked to all such clubs is this. With all the millions that your rich Arab owner pours in, you can buy the best players, the most successful Gaffer and probably even the odd trophy, but can all those millions buy you even a small but glorious piece of history and the resulting emotional connect?
what a fate to be blessed with
ReplyDeletefor i guess a career sportsman/woman would always choose the extremes
of achievement as well as emotion
and leave the grey areas in between
for other less-immortal professions
No.
ReplyDeleteThere's a right way of doing things and there's a wrong way of doing things. Trying to pull a rabbit out of the hat takes practice and dedication -- no one's a born magician. Similarly, pumping in millions can't ensure silverware, and at best fickle fan loyalty.
Good one POI...I agree with your views that history and emotional connect cannot be replaced by money....but even those clubs with a long history and fan following had at some point of time, required to earn it gradually. The new clubs are doing the same thing....trying to create their history...but the WRONG in their decision is that they think money can accelerate their historical growth and fan following...
ReplyDelete