Its been a little over a decade since I became an
unconditional disciple of this supremely humble, unforgivingly modest human
being by the name of Zinedine Zidane.
An exact decade ago he scored this endearingly
mesmerizing, irrevocably magnificent, saturatingly overwhelming, brilliantly
miraculous, unbelievably heart stopping goal that single handed deserved to
crown Réal Madrid Champions of Europe.
To be awfully honest I never grew up as a football fan. I
like the common mindless population considered Cricket to be the religion that
I had to follow though I didn’t play much of it or watch it. Most of my primary
evenings were spent in travelling because my School was quite a bit far from
where I stayed and living in quite a staunch orthodox family meant there was no
television. Also, evenings were exclusively earmarked for prayers nothing else
was allowed, not evening sitting idle.
In the summer of 1998, the FIFA World cup was held in
France, I was completely oblivious of it. I was oblivious of any event that
took place outside a one hundred meter radius. But this was a year of change;
the school had decided that they would stretch the timings by 90 minutes to
accommodate for extra periods to fit in additional subjects and game hours.
This is the year that as far as my memory goes; I remember kicking a football
for the first time in the crazy, sweltering heat of summer afternoons in
Chennai. The stretching of school timings also meant that I had to wait with
Saniya a good forty – five minutes before we were picked up and that gave me
more time to play. In the hindsight I sometimes do feel that I should have
spent a little more time with Saniya but then again I was a kid back then and
adrenaline won the race for of the hormones by miles.
I won my first medal in 1999 when I was in Sixth grade. It
was a Gold in the 4x100 meters relay that I started. This will be one of the
fondest memories of my childhood. That year was fleetingly quick; I had
additional subjects in Arabic, Tamil and French. I think I spent most of the
time behind books although I cannot confirm that because even as a child I do
not remember sitting down with books with the solemn purpose of studying!
The millennia came at the speed of fast-forward of a
cassette player. Dad was posted to Bangalore and I came to live with my
parents. We bought a new Tele and then there was this evil thing called Cable.
I became addicted to it; there was just one thing I would watch – Football.
The 2002 FIFA World Cup was the first football world event
that I saw on TV. I still have the paper cutting from the newspapers and there
was this talk about this particular player who France desperately needed but he
was injured so he couldn’t play. I saw in the pictures how the Les Bleus
desperately wanted him back with huge banners reading ‘Zizou Come Back’ on
display during French games. There was a frightful desperation in the fans
plead.
This triggered an almost incomprehensible liking towards
this player. I was so impressed by him that I swapped my position from LS to
CAM. I began enjoying the game more than ever and have continued to do so. The
impact this one soul had on a twelve year old kid who was barely able to keep
his feet on the ground even while walking was immense that I have waited eleven
long years to find words substantial enough to describe them and yet I have
failed. Perhaps this piece at FIFA.COM
written fluidly is enough to explain the effect it has had on me.
His last game
for Réal was one of the emotional low points for me. I could have given
anything to be at Bérnabau that historic evening to witness my idol play for
one last time but I had to console myself in front of a screen. Then came the
World Cup 2006, where he single handedly took France to the Finals. A colossal
testament of the man’s talent who during his early days was rejected by his
Coach in Algiers.
A Legend. A Superstar. A Genius. A Human. A Phenomenon.
Merci beaucoup Zizou!
