The story of how Football came to be in my life

In India, cricket is a religion. I don’t know who said that first, but it is put very beautifully, given the fanatic outlook religion commands. Growing up, we never realized when cricket took a hold of our hearts. We cheered Sachin on and booed every fast bowler who thought he could disturb the Indian woodwork. God knows how many games of cricket we have played, because it needed just two people, a bat and a bowl. A tree for stumps and a brick for marking where the pitch ended, that’s all it took to start a game.

Along came football, and I do not really know the exact moment I was interested. Just like I do not remember when I stopped following WWE. Maybe it was when the trump cards just did not make the cut anymore. Anyway, I think football took root in the 1998 World Cup. The colours were brilliant, and so was the commentary. I was enamoured. Ricky Martin may have played a role too, and the ‘Cup of Life’ just took it to a new level, especially when he played live, bang in the middle of the crowd.

I loved every bit of it, and it is no surprise I still support France to this day. Zinedine Zidane was a favourite, even though Zlatan has taken that spot for the time being. The focus then shifted to the Premier League, purely because that is what played on TV. I remember a certain ‘Football Mundial’ which was the best round-up of everything football. It took me a while to find my way around football, but I wanted to watch it. The big boys on the field played football and discussed it, and I really felt the need to fit in. It didn’t come easy, but I ploughed through.

I did the same for F1 many years later, and I cannot miss a single race now. Also, while I have digressed, I am thankful I forced myself to watch Formula One when I did, because I saw the final years (before the first retirement) of the amazingly classy Michael Schumacher.

Moving on, it was hard to push a sport over cricket, because there for enough cricket to go around for everyone. There were so many names, foreign names at that. Aston Villa looked like Newcastle United and Arsenal wasn’t even a city to begin with. Henry was ‘On-ree’ and Nistelrooy had two Os. Pires had a goatee like none I had seen before and Ljungberg had red hair. It was so different from cricket that it made for a relief almost. Every weekend was a rush and I needn’t stick around for more than three hours together.

Along came the UEFA Champions League and it felt almost privileged to stay up and catch the best of Europe in action. The romance of the Champions League still makes me stay up and risk the occasional red flag in office for coming in late.

The 2002 World Cup was when it really kicked in, no pun intended. It was perfectly timed, over my summer holidays, and coming home to ‘Boom’ by Anastasia was tremendous. I even invested in a cassette because I simply couldn’t download it on a dial-up. It was sad to see France leave so early in the competition but Germany looked like they were destined to win. Brazil clearly had other ideas, and I recall this piece in the paper about the ‘Unstoppable Force meeting the Immovable object’, describing the final clash between Oliver Kahn and the Brazilian Ronaldo. Ronaldo had the final say in that, and his brace in the final saw Cafu lift the golden Jules Rimet trophy.

Just to clear the air, I am and will be an Arsenal supporter. I loved their flow and their ability to shut down each and every side that came their way. One memory that I hold dear is the last minute penalty that Ruud Van Nistelrooy fluffed, and had yellow Gunners descend on him like the devil himself. Martin Keown was right up there, and even Ashley Cole was a jack-in-the-box. That was the Invincibles, and what has become since, is for another day. But this was the story of how football came to be in my life, and has lit every weekend up, except when the damned International friendlies crop up. But then again, the brilliant FIFA 13 never stops.