A loss is a loss, you can grieve and be sad about it; but life moves on. It was one such loss, I hadn’t lost anyone or anything, my team had. The team I had been supporting for 17 years had lost out on being the Champions of Europe. It had made it to the finals after thirteen years, and although a majority of us knew that we were the underdogs, but chose to be optimistic about the whole thing: that we would conquer the odds and make it the sixth time.
A sixth European title did come by this year, the perseverance paid off finally, but the journey had been far more romantic in the last season, it had also to do with the fact that I was in the company of someone who kept consoling me and shared my grief while I was grieving and sobbing at the loss of my team.
This is what football does to most people, if you happen to be a football fanatic you’ll probably understand the passion and relate to it. There is perhaps nothing in the world as romantic as football, as tragic as it is, as unifying and as beautiful as the beautiful game itself. Although, She was beautiful too; nothing like the game though, but She knew her game well, on point most of the time She would be.
“Mo Salah, is left footed God”; She had once remarked; it did catch me surprise; here was a person whom I had known for ten months talking about a footballer who had taken Anfield by storm. I hadn’t discussed football with her ever, She did know about my love for the game though, I was genuinely amused by the effort She had made in getting to learn about the club I supported and the players on whom my hopes lied.
And, that was the beginning of another course of discussion; another subject we could converse upon over coffee or beer or both. I would tell about formations and playing positions, managerial tactics and rules of substitution; She never really understood much but She wasn’t disinterested either. I would sing the chants to her, make her sing it too and She would happily oblige. There’s something about women who take interest in football, and there was more than just something about her: She would get me like no one else, She was the perfect false nine: She had multiple skills, life skills, life saving skills.
Love. Life. Liverpool; I would say; and She would say the same. Perhaps, I hadn’t found anyone who would ever understand the feeling I had for the club, what it meant to me. I could never cry and sob like a baby at a loss in front of anyone; with her: I could be me; I could let it all out. Everytime my team dropped points, I knew I would have her consoling me, She knew me and my team well.
With my team now defending the title, I hope She at least keeps a tab on the fixture, the scoreline, and the points table. With her on my mind, I know to myself; my team will never walk alone.
#YNWA !!
abhishek purkayastha 