“And Why do You Support Brazil???”

As unbelievable as it may sound to the inhabitants of the great metros, Jalandhar is a decent enough place to eat and drink. I am basing this generalization about the disbelieving lot on the frequent queries about the eating and drinking circuit of my hometown that have been flung my way with considerable skepticism. The ones who threw up these queries were not surprisingly the inhabitants of the great metros which are ‘well known’ and not just ‘rumored’ to have a well defined bar culture.

When I happened to venture out to one of these bars here which claimed to showcase World Cup games with the availability of an affordable platter of food and drinks, I was not only performing a first in terms of expressing my serious interest in the World Cup and thus seeking an opportunity to feel the excitement by being present in one of these places frequented by “serious” fans, I was also performing a first on the bar circuit front because ‘Talli’, which when directly translated from Punjabi to English means ‘Drunk’, was also the first bar that I have entered after starting to drink a decent amount of vodka on certain limited number of occasions, and though I am stating this, I am stating this irrespective of the purpose of my visit which may lie in drinking suspicious vodka or watching football of decent quality or enjoying the twin pleasures of both at one go.

As the evening unfolded at this bar and Germany started harassing Costa Rica but not without hazarding the harassment of its own goal and the gloved man who guarded it, I began talking to a man in sitting on one of the bar stools beside me. Our curiously close position to the World Cup screen proudly disclosed to our bar-mates our enhanced interest in the goings on and the desire to lead the cheering on their behalf.

Soon enough, I don’t know what inspired me to but I found myself asking this middle-aged, well groomed gentleman perched on a leather cushioned stool beside me about his favorite team but not without the apprehension that the question inspires by the sheer predictability of the reply. And needless to say, my apprehensive prayers were answered true to the tradition when my co-cheer-pilot informed me cordially that he is a big Brazilian fan. Now again, on hearing this, I cannot tell why but I felt a strange stirring in my stomach, my vodka began to taste sour and the match suddenly lost its fervor and my head felt as if someone was using its inside as a substitute for a calypso drum.

While these strange reactions occurred, I found myself asking him not without straining to avoid dawning a sarcastic tone, which by the way, comes more naturally to me than regulated breathing, ‘And why do you like Brazil?’

He replied briskly, ‘I like them because they score goals, they have great players. They have Ronaldinho. And most importantly they win.’

I could have been quite impressed with his reply had I been on some high quality ‘MICA-brand dope’ but as the cruel circumstances would have it, I was neither doped not drunk enough to let pass the implications of what my cheer mate had just said.

What he had just said would have been more justified had he chosen the words more suited to the tone that he had answered my question with. Had that been the case, I humbly imagine his reply to be something like, ‘To be honest with you sir, I support Brazil for lack of something to do, for lack of something to support. I have had an excess of club championships. And what did I do at the end of it all; I supported an English club all my life without actually contributing any money directly to their cause, maybe a little indirectly in terms of GRP by watching TV though. And then 20 years from now I am destined to die leaving behind a family and a kid who would wonder why his father was the sham he was and so he might decide to make a difference by having better reasons for watching football.’ That would be an ideal reply for him for the question, ‘And why do you like Brazil?’

“Would have-could have” scenarios apart, not surprisingly, it was now his turn to ask me the same question, which he, quite evidently, did not seem to hold in as high a critical esteem as I was bound to hold by the sheer virtue of my interest in the fate of teams jumping gallantly into the multi flavorful World Cup soup and in turn the associated fate of their fans.

And then he asked me unhindered, ‘Which is your favorite team?’

I said flatly, ‘Brazil’.

‘And why do you like Brazil?’ he asked.

And the reply that came out of my mouth cannot be claimed to be wholly mine but influenced greatly by one Mumbai returned Namibaba of the forty-four roomies fame.
And this is what I found my mouth blabbering to him uncontrollably as he looked on intently while I couldn’t deny that the calypso company in my head was having quite a party now, ‘I like Brazil’, I said, ‘because Spain’s superstitious coach thinks yellow is an unlucky color according to Kaballah. Going by that “philosophy”, I would be tempted to think that Brazil have to put up with a lot of ill luck because all they play in is yellow. If they are world beaters with the unlucky color on them, just imagine what would happen if they dawned another color in place of yellow. And to tell you the truth it’s the superstition that I hate and that Brazil proves it wrong is why I like them. To be honest, I can’t even stand that daily horoscope column in the papers. Apart from that, Brazil has flair…their football is born in slums…they are a poor man’s team….Ronaldinho never dives; he is an excellent ambassador for the game. Brazilians-they are not the European mechanical firing squad…they have Samba footwork and because I like dance of any form is why I like them. I like them because even after so much internal turmoil the country wins the cup through sheer talent. Despite not being the richest foot-balling nation, they have a renewable talent pool year after year…and of course the following is so amazing that it would make any supporter proud- Brazilian or not. Apart from that…or rather because of that they win. That is why I like them. And though it’s beside the point I would like to mention that that I think their wining is more to do with their culture. By culture I mean all that is not included in the sporting culture and still deemed as culture, you know. I hope I am making sense. I think if one has to form a formidable football team, one must do a microscopic analysis of a Brazilian citizen’s social life and I am sure one would come up with the ‘how’s and why’s’ of top-notch football. Well this is pretty much why I like Brazil.’

My cheer companion couldn’t look more dazed by the reply. He promptly ordered a drink and offered me one. But I merely told him that I had had enough for the day. To which he promptly addressed me as sir ji and gallantly said the drink was on him…I said I didn’t care even if the drink was on Maradona…I had had enough and by the way he had a lot to do with it. The game too had come to an end and all the cheering in the club had given way to a strange euphoria in the room which it appeared could only subside with a thorough battering of Brazil at the hands…or rather the feet of a team of lesser sporting mortals.

I picked up my bag, the black one with the orange question mark on it, paid the bartender and left the building.

PS : This is what took place in ‘Talli’ in Jalandhar the other day. Though I am over it now, I cannot resist asking all you die-hard Brazil fans out there…‘Why do you support Brazil?’ If you are, woman enough, man enough but most importantly fan enough, don’t hesitate to let me know.