Warning: The following post might
not make sense to those disinterested in the beautiful game.
My love for English football way
back in the late nineties started with one man, David Beckham. And my love for
David Beckham started with a boy, Tshering Wangchuk. He was a junior in school
and my brother’s class-mate. A talented footballer with his trademark jersey
number seven, getting to know him meant getting to know football. Pretty soon a
certain Beckham came into the picture and I was hooked to Manchester United.
Yes, Manchester United -- a team I cannot stand today! But that was almost
fourteen years ago. My brother Tshering, who I lovingly called Tsheringham,
walked like him, ran like him and was a midfielder just like him. It was a
treat to watch a match whether played in our school ground or at Old Trafford. My
room in college was an ode to Beckham. The walls had red posters all over and I
religiously cut every news item I could get hold of in the national dailies
and magazines.
As the years went by, I started
following the Barclays league with utmost sincerity. I was aware of other teams
and their respective managers. Among my favourites were Leeds United, Tottenham
Hotspurs and West Ham United. Leeds was a great team those days. They had the
likes of Kewell, Viduka, Gudjohnson etc. and they had David O’leary managing the team. It’s
a shame they couldn’t maintain their track record and slipped to second
division in a matter of a few years.
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| Some dreams do come true :D |
Around the same time, I spotted a
certain Frank James Lampard in a West Ham jersey and thus began my one-sided love
affair with the English midfielder. I think I needed a very good reason to
stick with the league and he was it. In the decade covering 2001-2011, I have
followed him through ups and downs. Whenever I was asked, I would request for a
Chelsea memorabilia. The blues became the team I would worship thanks to
Lampard. I started playing fantasy football manager, EPL picks, anything and
everything that was about football. When Lampard’s autobiography came out, I
was desperate for a copy of the same. I requested my cousin to send it from the
UK and was done with it within the first four days itself. On my second day in
London, I had a print out of the underground tube map and there I was walking
down Fulham road in South Kensington area, one of the or perhaps the most
expensive real estate in London. A left turn and I stood in front of Stamford
Bridge, the Mecca for all Blues fans. I wish I could rightly describe the
feeling that precise moment. There were tears in my eyes and I only remember
wishing I had my best friend next to me, to share this moment. He would have
loved it (so what if he is a Red devil himself). This is what all of us football
lovers wish for -- To be where the action is. I was extremely
careful about spending in pounds but I would have paid hundred pounds if I had
to that day. My guide coincidentally happend to be a Frank himself. I took the stadium tour, walked through the stands, changing room,
warm up area, press-room, the tunnel and into the grassy field. Being alone
meant I had to request random strangers to take pictures for me. I was home
extremely satisfied that night. When I showed the pictures to my cousin, he
looked at me in disbelief and said
“No
one has been THIS crazy in our family”.
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| An ode to The Bridge |
Today my room at home is an ode
to Chelsea. Almost three years back I painted it blue before hanging some club posters on the wall. This season has been a disappointment. Lampard
too seems to be nearing the end of his career. Our only hope is the
Champions league and the F. A. Cup, but to be honest even the two seem like a
lost cause. I am now going to re-paint my room in the next few days so this
post is a farewell to my blue room, not to the blue residing in me though.
Until the next replacement arrives, I will continue walking down familiar roads.
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