Nostalgia

Life is cruel, life is sweet. It’s all about perspectives of perceptions; remember the glass half empty, glass half full cliché? Every scenario, every moment, and to be pointier every coin has two sides, and none better than the other. This is the hardest part to swallow, and the easiest too. The other day I was watching all sorts of classic football matches, compilations, footages, reading quotes thanks to the high fidelity internet connection in my college, and some sort of stark realization dawned upon me. What if I never grew old and remained forever gummed in the old and almost-forgotten period of the 2000s. I would happily travel back in time to relive those classy and classic moments that shaped and marked the days when I was a small kid entering into his teens. Memories remain, and that’s the best and worst part of ‘memories’, either you be happy recalling the past, or sulk on the time that flew away and promised never to come back. Football has evolved, so have I, but the very essence and fundamentals of the game still remain same. Matches are still won by goals scored, pitches are still green and grassy, fans still flock stadiums. To be honest and holistic, football has remained same, but only for those who care lesser about the game than what I do. Delve into the intricacies, and you’ll find how the beautiful game has gone through a myriad of changes. Change is one thing in life that even the extra-terrestrial cannot avoid, but like many others of my generation, football has not been the same, and never will be.

Gone are the days when Kaka was dominating Italy with AC Milan, his goals being the toast of the world. Gone are the days when Henrik Larsson took the Celtic bravehearts to the brink of European glory. Gone are the days when Liverpool came back from the dead to win another European Cup. Gone are the days when David Beckham skied that penalty against Portugal. Gone are the days when Brazilian Ronaldo sported that triangle haircut. For those who think that I didn’t witness the greatest of greats in the likes of Pele, Maradona, Best, Beckenbauer, Cruyff et al please keep away, because this was my time, the time when the simple but overly complex game of football gave me so much joy. Nothing compares with this; everything had a charm that made me come back time and time again. Age and responsibilities make people understand better, and I am a victim of it, I decided to go deeper and deeper into the caverns and suddenly after all these years I look lost. I so yearn to go back, to be that little innocent kid again, dancing to Ricky Martin’s ‘Ale ale Ale Cup of Life’ song. But life is cruel.

Being nostalgic is another thing. What I am going through is anybody’s guess, a deep feeling of disappointment that overhauls any other achievement, bereavement, a moment of stinging self-realization. Sadly, wistfulness is futile and doesn’t do justice to the people who are around me, who have been around me since the beginning of time. Studying tactics and gameplan doesn’t even compare, although I now can claim to be a fairly good reader of the game, but once you play those sepia-tinted videos and footages of old, nerves jangle and tears wriggle.

Sigh!

Those days
The good old days
Never to return
Forever away
Leaving only flashes
The good old days.

Being negative was never my intention, but this piece echoes the feelings that flood my clogged mind in the midst of stress and fever. A write-up enough to suggest many things, but you’ll never know.

“You’ll never walk alone”.