Images of a young kid weeping profusely after Germany scored its fourth goal against Brazil brought back memories of Asiad 1982 and another kid weeping in a similar manner. Zafar Iqbal scored early in the game as India took the lead against Pakistan in the Hockey final. Then Zafar missed a penalty stroke. India perhaps stopped playing after the missed stroke as Pakistan pumped in seven goals. The crowd watched in shocked silence benumbed by what transpired before them. As a young kid watching the final on television surrounded by family and many hockey players of stature, for whom our home was their second home, I wanted to cry after Pakistan scored its fifth. But like an idiot( I thought of myself as a macho boy), I could not display my emotions in public. Although, I cannot recall completely, I picked up a fight with somebody and left the room pretending anger at the individual. With my head in the pillow which muffled my sobs, I wept profusely. Numerous entreaties from everyone failed to bring me out of my hiding place. I could not let anybody see my tears. Pakistan scored its sixth and seventh goal. My solace was that I was no longer watching this massacre. But the best part about being a kid is that you soon forget the hurt and get back to life. Within half an hour of letting my feelings go, I was on the field with friends. I did not read the newspaper the next day, sub consciously denying any mis-happening the previous day. Watching the young kid reinforces the perception that sports is one area where the heart rules the mind. The young kid, like one 32 years back and millions in between had no time for rational mindful thought which accepts the fact that a superior team won. Therein lies the beauty of sports in an era where materialistic issues have overtaken the heart and the mind always prevails.
Posted on: Wed, 09 Jul 2014 10:21:10 +0000
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