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![]() Rattus norvegicus—a common field rat—was believed the culprit behind the halftime power outage. To avoid confusion, this is not the alleged perpetrator. |
The lede to the Telegraph sidebar detailing the electrical failure—few particulars of which, to be honest, we understood—sounds Aesopian: "It was a tiny rat that finally felled the mighty government and made it hang its head in shame" ("Country's Pride to Stadium of Shame—Field Rat Ruins Day in Field," 9 September). Of more consequence than a rat's fatal encounter with a "bus bar" panel, however, is the sense that football in India has lost direction. A two-part BBC documentary (listen to parts 1 and 2; links open Real Player) shows that entanglements between entrenched state-based politicos and the amateur AIFF have produced stagnation. Dasmunshi, for example, serves also as India's Minister for Water Resources, demonstrating the organization's lack of independence, as well as a lack of professionalism. "We have 25 states but only two or three are doing anything with any success to develop youth," says India manager Steven Constantine (Mike Geddes, "What's Holding Back Indian Football?" BBC World Football, 30 July).
Youth football, in fact, falls under the purview of the Sports Authority of India, which![]() A participant in the IYSA's Street Kids program. (IYSA) |
Throughout the discussion the question rages: which is bigger, football or cricket? From the perspective of outsiders, the answer appears to be cricket. India's success has stirred frenzy for the national team, with broadcast rights of $308 million being discussed for the upcoming India–Australia test series (Khozem Merchant, "Court to Rule in Dispute on Indian Cricket TV Coverage," Financial Times, 28 September; subscription required). Yet football has the longer tradition, with clubs, such as Mohun Bagan of Kolkata, dating their origins to the 1880s (although see Labonita Ghosh's report on the club's recent slide, "Self-Goal Club," Outlook India, 4 October). Kolkata-based East Bengal FC, too, has a distinguished tradition, highlighted in its summer tour of England—the first for an Indian professional team—and participation in a four-team tournament with first-division Leicester City (see Jaideep Mukherjee, "Pride of the East," Leicester Mercury, 30 July). East Bengal, despite the leadership of Baichung Bhutia, formerly of second-division Bury FC, finished fourth. Cricket seems better organized at all levels and has more grassroots support, but, as Global Game correspondent Pallab Muhury writes, football has a stronger competitive structure:
In cricket, guys have only one team—the Indian team—to support. But in soccer, the good club and institutional sides draw vast crowds. In soccer there are many teams . . . plus, of course, the national team. But the latter is hardly seen more than once a year on average, on TV, either cable or Doordarshan [publicly funded channel]. (personal correspondence, 24 May)
The Global Game will continue this conversation soon, with an interactive feature on the women's game in India and West Bengal, featuring reporting from Muhury.
where
the side finished fourth and D'Souza scored a hat trick against Australia.
The Mumbai District Football Association honored
D'Souza, who died in 1980 of a brain hemorrhage, before a fixture between
Mahindra United and Vasco of
Goa. D'Souza's widow, Lyra, tells the Times of
India that "it took
nearly 25 years since his death for somebody to recognise his achievements,
but better late than never" (Nitin Naik, "Mumbai
Salutes Soccer Legend,"
13 January). Brother Dereyk de Souza, a former goalkeeper
for the national side, also laments Neville's slide into anonymity,
attributing a nation's short memory to the lack of television coverage
when Neville played. In the article in The Hindu, de Souza
remembered Neville's characteristics:
Neville's greatest quality was his humility. He hated to talk about his own achievements, however extraordinary. Even the Melbourne Games hat-trick did not come up in our football discussions. He would talk about Melbourne as something I should experience. See the march-past, the Indians walking in with turbans and the Olympic atmosphere. He would goad me to aim for an Olympic place. I knew this was going to be my role model.
(See
also Kausik Bandyopadhyay, "Race,
Nation, and Sport: Footballing Nationalism in Colonial Calcutta," Soccer & Society 4,
no. 1 [spring 2003]: 1–19.) Despite his riches and fuzzy
grasp of the local language, Kannada, Mallya is styling himself as
one of the people, as when he campaigns among the poverty- and drought-stricken
in Kolar. Adiga writes:
He's exchanged the heavy diamond studs for simple gold earrings and is decked out in the chaste all-white kurta and pajama of a typical Indian politician. "God has given me everything," Mallya tells the audience. "Money, big houses, fame. I want nothing more—except the chance to serve you." The crowd listens politely and begins to drift away—until the techno music starts to pound. A green laser beam projects images on a giant screen: first a map of India, then objects of desire, such as washing machines and pickup trucks. Dry-ice vapors envelop the stage. Engines rev. And a 25-car entourage whisks Mallya away, leaving behind a bewildered, speechless but thoroughly entertained crowd.
is
underway. With some of the best players not participating due to commitments
in Europe, however, expectations are low. The
Associated Press reports: "[O]rganizers
apparently forgot
about the annual northern monsoons that dump rain on
the region
at this
time
of year, and the Hyderabad city authorities were blaming each other for
failing to clear
clogged storm drains that left ankle-deep water around the town and on
the field. 'We've never played in these conditions before. They
affected our team badly,' said [Rwanda coach Dujkovic] Ratomir.
'My players didn't have the shoes for these conditions.' " (Update: India
lost the Afro Asian final 1-0 to Uzbekistan.) | back
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