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Cup of Memories |
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Thoughts
Without Boundaries Thoughts
of love & longing |
Now that June has come and gone, and productivity levels from Bangladesh to Belgium are back to normal, I find myself looking back on a cup of great satisfaction. Like every world cup, this one required some reorganization of the day to accommodate anything between 2 to 4 hours of intense television watching. Sadly, Ten Sports did not quite get its act together on time to really deliver a high quality package to users ready to lap up anything. One could have at least expected a few well-constructed vignettes from past cups or interesting studies converting the obvious and fictitious living-room discussions into visual treats. Like every world cup, I found myself thronging with the vast majority of the free world, rooting for Brazil. Finding poetry in the jogo bonito. (All nationalities support 2 teams - their own and Brazil) Like every world cup, the Brazil matches were fraught with emotional risk - and a planetary sigh of relief when inevitably one of the R's found the back of the net. Like every cup there seemed to be no reason for Brazil to lose. Only this time, they didn't. Like every world cup, this one created some more fans. The US doesn't know it yet, but the greatest threat to the "American way of life" may come from a spherical inflated object originally made of leather and capable of mass hypnotism. They say soccer is the most popular team sport for school kids in the US. This could shape up to be one of the greatest battles of our time - the beautiful game versus the American way of life. Like every world cup, this one gave us a new dance. Remember Bebeto's baby and Roger Milla's corner-flag-shimmy? This year's nominees are Korean speed skating, Robbie Keane's Robin Hood and Klose's summersault, but the Oscar really goes to Papa Diouf and his merry men. Senegal's t-shirt dance after their opening goal set the high water mark for post goal celebrations. Is Saroj Khan listening? If Brazil had weaknesses in their game, they weren't apparent. What was apparent was Edmilson's inability to don his spare shirt in the final - a performance made difficult under the glare of 50 thousand pairs of eyes. Of course, in the "Emperors new clothes" category, Sepp Blatter, the head of FIFA rules with his recent outburst against technology. His position as a leading twenty-first century luddite is assured and his blanket statement that technology will never be used to improve refereeing smacks of … um… well, stupidity. Unlike other world cups, this world cup did not create heroes. It destroyed them. The list of fallen idols frighteningly long. Ask the French, ask the Italians and the Argentinians. They left with their heads bowed, locks and all. They raved, ranted and called the referees names. But they forgot that the idea of the game was to score goals. And between these 3 teams, who were supposed favourites, scored only about half a dozen goals between them in 9 odd matches. And left us with memorable quotes like this one from Marcel Desailly "My friends are coming after the first round… my family should be here for the finals." My guess is that a telegram would have gone out from Desailly to the aforementioned family and friends. "Les change of ze plans mon ami" or something to that effect. The only individual who really stood out was Ronaldo, and this cup didn't create him, it merely reinstated him to his rightful place - gave him back the crown that the same cup had tragically stolen from him 4 years ago. His gap-toothed smile was one of the brighter gems that bedecked this event. Followed closely by Rivaldo's post-goal shirt stripping run. Between them, they produced no less than 13 occasions to smile. No, the heroes of this cup were teams, more than individuals. I doubt whether the world will remember Emre or Bazturk, or Ahn or or Je Duri. But nobody will forget South Korea or Turkey. Unlike other world cups, the players of this cup were doing everything in their power to get out of the tournament. If their knees and ankles didn't get them out already, then they fought with their coaches and got themselves sacked (Keane). If that didn't work, they threw themselves against the goalposts in practice (Emerson). And when all else failed, there were some really creative folks. Somebody dropped a bottle of aftershave and severed his tendons. So much for war stories. Unlike
other world cups, coaches hogged a larger part of the limelight
this time. Bruno Metsu - who looked liked he played in a Jazz band,
the academic Phillip Troussier, the intense Sinol Gunes, the equanimous
Mick McCarthy, the despondent Roger Lemere, and the ever pragmatic
Guus Hiddink, who as we suspected has earned an honorary citizenship
of S. Korea. Like other world cups there were disappointments and victories. Funnily, a lot of teams that didn't win went home happy. England were happy they beat the Argies and that they were beaten by the ultimate champions. Japan, the US, Senegal, South Korea, Turkey and Germany all went home to a heroes welcome - beaten but still worshipped. I don't recall a cup where so many countries have considered themselves successful. I guess that's what they mean when they say, "the game won". Yes, the game did win. And more than anything else, reaffirmation of faith prevailed over the rumbling signs of great change. 2002
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