The
energy and enthusiasm shown by the crowd before the start of an
Indian Super League match at Kochi is infectious
“Am
I the only girl who has come to see the match?” says 14-year-old
Sneha, as she walks on the road just outside the Jawaharlal Nehru
stadium at Kochi on Sunday. This is an hour before the start of the
Indian Super League (ISL) match between Kerala Blasters (KB) and
the Delhi Dynamos. Indeed, for a moment, she seems to be right.
There
is a swarm of youngsters, all males, wearing yellow KB T-shirts and
headbands. Many are carrying pennants. Some are blowing bugles,
while one, wearing a white-haired wig, is using a vuvuzela (a
plastic horn). But Sneha’s apprehensions are soon becalmed, as
she spots two middle-aged couples, as well as a young girl, in a
white top and blue jeans.
Inside
the stadium, she gets a seat next to two girls who have painted the
letters, 'KB', on their cheeks. The atmosphere is electric. Apart
from a constant noise of the drums, people are shouting and
screaming.
The
players step on to the pitch for their warm-up. A KB trainer places
red, white, blue and green markers on the ground.
In
the middle of the ground, a group of workers are pulling away huge
tarpaulin sheets which had been placed on the pitch earlier because
of a steady drizzle.
Another
group places drink coolers on the sidelines. Meanwhile, a few
youngsters stand on their seats and crane their necks towards the
VIP box. “Has Sachin Tendulkar come?” asks one. “Not yet,”
says another.
Soon,
the KB players begin a practice session at one side of the field.
They run between the markers, twisting and turning. Then they have
heading-the-ball practice, and kicking back the ball to a player
who throws it at them. KB midfielder Victor Herrero Forcada takes a
corner kick and swerves the ball into the net. He has one
advantage: there is no goalkeeper.
At
the other end, Dynamos player/manager Roberto Carlos, a Brazilian
legend, gently lobs the ball up and down on his feet, the ball
seemingly an extension of his body. Since the stadium is awash in
yellow, somebody quipped, “We could be in Brazil.”
In
the stands, mineral water bottles and Pepsi drinks are selling
quickly. People are feeling thirsty. Though there is a slight
drizzle, it is still humid.
Meanwhile,
as the players come out for the start of the match, at 6.50 p.m.,
there is a huge roar. But it is not for the KB team. Instead,
Sachin has arrived. And the entire stadium waves at him. The
legendary batsman’s hold on the Indian public remains rock-solid
and unbreakable.
Suddenly
announcer Anjali Uthup Kurian shouts, “Kochi, are you
ready?”
“Yes,”
is the collective scream.
All
sorts of placards are put up. But Sneha is rightly puzzled by one
of Che Guevara. Indeed, what is the legendary Argentine Marxist
revolutionary doing at a football match at Kochi? It looks like
borrowed heroes have always been the Malayali’s weakness.
Over-enthusiastic
youths crowd the aisles. But, for a change, a firm Assistant
Sub-Inspector Abdul Khader sends them all packing to the back. So
it becomes easy for bona-fide ticket-holders to walk up and down.
At
6.55 p.m., an extraordinary thing happens: there is a pin-drop
silence in the crowd. That's because the national anthem is being
played. It feels surreal, this sudden quiet. But the deep respect
and love for the country is palpable. Everybody stands at
attention. But the moment the anthem is over, there is a huge roar
from 62,000 people.
“Watching
a match live is so much better than seeing it on TV,” says Sneha.
Indeed, she is surprised at how crowded the pitch is, the players
so close to each other, unlike on TV, where you feel there are
large spaces, thanks to the distortion of the camera lens. Then she
looks to the right, and says, “I can spot a student from my
school. Three of my friends said that they would be coming today.
This is so much fun.”
Yes,
indeed, the action before the game is riveting.
And,
on the dot, at 7 p.m., the match begins. Or, as the theme song of
the ISL says, ‘C’mon India, let’s football’.
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