When one cannot wait to win
Sunday, 10 January 2010
Maswood Alam Khan
A sports fan cannot embrace defeat because it is neither easy to accept defeat nor simple to endure embarrassment and shame that come along with it. Feelings of frustration and embarrassment stir up in any sports fan as he watches his team lose a big game.
A fan sitting in a stadium gallery knows full well that his words will not reach ears of his favorite player running and dribbling with the football; still he shouts at the top of his lungs. A fan knowing full well that his words will not go anywhere beyond the confine of his living room still yells at the TV when he senses that a defeat of his team is imminent.
When his team finally is defeated the fan also finally has to resign himself to accepting the defeat, but at the expense of a psychological toll. Scientists can better say whether such excitements are injurious to health or not. But, such excitements, I can vouch, are far better than those which propel one community against another in bloody wars.
There should of course be a degree of loyalty. One who transgresses the healthy bounds of loyalty goes beyond the right enjoyment in the sports and in their teams.
One who cannot control his passion curses and swears and holds grudges when his team loses. The passionate feelings of a fan become dangerous when he is overly consumed and obsessed with his team to a point at which 'team devotion' becomes 'team worship'. I remember vividly one young man named Bachchu, a blind fan of Mohammedan Sporting Club, who happened to sit next to me on the western gallery of Dhaka Stadium while watching in a wintry afternoon, back in the late 1970s, a football tournament between Abahani and Mohammedan.
Sensing that I was also a Mohammedan fan he didn't allow me to buy anything for myself to munch or drink. He rather bought me peanuts, tea and soft drinks. Mohammedan won the game and we two fans leaped to our feet holding and raising our hands in V-shapes. That day, I was flabbergasted by Bachchu's passionate jumps and leaps, his breathless comments and scolds and the way he was gripped by football fever and frenzy. Never ever I met Bachchu after our meeting in the stadium. But, whenever I watch a football tournament where Mohammedan takes part, I fondly remember him.
Your foot tingles, your heart quivers, your palm itches, and you keep your eyes peeled for your team to score a goal. If a player of your favourite team misses a chance -- to catch a ball in cricket or to pass a ball in football -- you curse him, you curse your fate and you leap to your feet and feel like flying to the pitch to teach the player how to play. Passion runs high when we watch a game between two teams where we divide into two camps; one belongs to me and the other to you.
Last Thursday, I was again flabbergasted as I was watching in BBC Television the madness of a fan in Indonesia. A 25-year old Indonesian football fan named Hendri Mulyadi became so fed up when his national team was heading for a 1-2 defeat against Oman that he took matters into his own hands and sprinted into the field. He got control of the ball and ran down the wing; but his attempt to score ended in failure after Oman's keeper blocked the shot. Police however eventually overpowered the overenthusiastic football fan. Several online postings next to footage of the incident on YouTube praised Mr. Mulyadi's antics. One said: "He could be a future striker for Indonesia."
There are fans, in football or in cricket or in baseball or in the Olympic, who are ready to do anything, to sacrifice any fortune, only if their favourite team or players could win a game. Unalloyed and unselfish loyalty of fans to their teams and players is a beauty of humanity, a signature of fellow feelings -- a stimulus that could be better used to ensure peace all over the world if wars were waged only on the playing fields instead of on the borders dividing the countries.
(Maswood Alam Khan is Editorial Consultant of The Financial Express. Email: maswood@hotmail.com)
A sports fan cannot embrace defeat because it is neither easy to accept defeat nor simple to endure embarrassment and shame that come along with it. Feelings of frustration and embarrassment stir up in any sports fan as he watches his team lose a big game.
A fan sitting in a stadium gallery knows full well that his words will not reach ears of his favorite player running and dribbling with the football; still he shouts at the top of his lungs. A fan knowing full well that his words will not go anywhere beyond the confine of his living room still yells at the TV when he senses that a defeat of his team is imminent.
When his team finally is defeated the fan also finally has to resign himself to accepting the defeat, but at the expense of a psychological toll. Scientists can better say whether such excitements are injurious to health or not. But, such excitements, I can vouch, are far better than those which propel one community against another in bloody wars.
There should of course be a degree of loyalty. One who transgresses the healthy bounds of loyalty goes beyond the right enjoyment in the sports and in their teams.
One who cannot control his passion curses and swears and holds grudges when his team loses. The passionate feelings of a fan become dangerous when he is overly consumed and obsessed with his team to a point at which 'team devotion' becomes 'team worship'. I remember vividly one young man named Bachchu, a blind fan of Mohammedan Sporting Club, who happened to sit next to me on the western gallery of Dhaka Stadium while watching in a wintry afternoon, back in the late 1970s, a football tournament between Abahani and Mohammedan.
Sensing that I was also a Mohammedan fan he didn't allow me to buy anything for myself to munch or drink. He rather bought me peanuts, tea and soft drinks. Mohammedan won the game and we two fans leaped to our feet holding and raising our hands in V-shapes. That day, I was flabbergasted by Bachchu's passionate jumps and leaps, his breathless comments and scolds and the way he was gripped by football fever and frenzy. Never ever I met Bachchu after our meeting in the stadium. But, whenever I watch a football tournament where Mohammedan takes part, I fondly remember him.
Your foot tingles, your heart quivers, your palm itches, and you keep your eyes peeled for your team to score a goal. If a player of your favourite team misses a chance -- to catch a ball in cricket or to pass a ball in football -- you curse him, you curse your fate and you leap to your feet and feel like flying to the pitch to teach the player how to play. Passion runs high when we watch a game between two teams where we divide into two camps; one belongs to me and the other to you.
Last Thursday, I was again flabbergasted as I was watching in BBC Television the madness of a fan in Indonesia. A 25-year old Indonesian football fan named Hendri Mulyadi became so fed up when his national team was heading for a 1-2 defeat against Oman that he took matters into his own hands and sprinted into the field. He got control of the ball and ran down the wing; but his attempt to score ended in failure after Oman's keeper blocked the shot. Police however eventually overpowered the overenthusiastic football fan. Several online postings next to footage of the incident on YouTube praised Mr. Mulyadi's antics. One said: "He could be a future striker for Indonesia."
There are fans, in football or in cricket or in baseball or in the Olympic, who are ready to do anything, to sacrifice any fortune, only if their favourite team or players could win a game. Unalloyed and unselfish loyalty of fans to their teams and players is a beauty of humanity, a signature of fellow feelings -- a stimulus that could be better used to ensure peace all over the world if wars were waged only on the playing fields instead of on the borders dividing the countries.
(Maswood Alam Khan is Editorial Consultant of The Financial Express. Email: maswood@hotmail.com)