Between sitting in a lecture and playing football on a Friday night, I think the choice is pretty clear. I am very relieved that classes at SIM have ended. Although that means I have to start studying for my exams. As I was marking exam papers at school, I glanced nervously at my watch as the minutes ticked away. It was already six o’clock and it seems we were nowhere near the end. I hurriedly completed my duty and excused myself from work. I did not even change when I reached home. Just packed my stuff and headed straight out. In my haste, I inevitably forgot to take my spare pair of spectacles, forcing me to depend on my $350 pair of Police spectacles for the game. No heading for me.
Traffic was a killer and I arrived close to seven in the evening. Only Wak was there. I was surprised to a certain extent. It seems like we were starting even later these days. As we chatted, the troops filed in and soon the crowd grew. I borrowed Boy’s newspaper and found an article that truly sparked some memories from within me.
It was not an actual article. It was the Letter of the Week section of the New Paper. I used to contribute a lot to the section but my busy schedule and a loss of interest caused me to stop writing in anymore. The Question of the Week was really interesting this time. They were talking about whether football hard men still had a part to play in the modern game. Gosh, I would have been the ultimate authority on this topic, just like how Jaz’s letter on the topic regarding playmakers earned him the Letter of the Week prize. Reading the responses drew all sorts of emotions and thinking on my part. A lot of the writers felt that players such as Roy Keane and Patrick Vieira are no longer relevant and they are viewed as footballing evil men bent on destroying everything that is beautiful about the game.
I would be first to admit that Keane and Vieira were two of my idols growing up, especially when I was playing as a defensive midfielder a few years ago. To me, it’s not about being dirty, but about the spirit and winning attitude that these two gentlemen bring. It’s no coincidence that they were captains of their team, always wearing the badge on their sleeves. Not afraid to get stuck in and inspiring the team with their drive and determination. At the same time, there is this mean streak about them that often strikes fear in the hearts of opposing players. So imagine when the two men face each other in the rectangular field. It’s not fireworks that are sparked off, it’s a whole f#$%ing war!
As I grew up and played with various teams and players, I naturally picked up some “skills” that were quite simply described as malicious. I always liked playing with older guys. I loved to punch above my weight (although it would be a great challenge to punch someone “above my weight” these days, literally). Through my interactions with these players, I find myself being pull aside by some big brother figure and he would take the time to point out to me the “finer points” of the game. There was always someone willing to share something with me and I was the ever-willing student.
I remember playing for Flamboyant FC, a side spear-headed by a rotund brother-in-law of one of my neighbourhood pals. We formed a Flamboyant Junior side made up of dudes from the hood. Of course, Jaz was in the team as well. Heck, he was even made captain. Just shows you the competency of the head. It’s almost impossible for me to play in a team without Jaz, such is the “enjoyment” of having him around in the team. In between Junior matches, some of us would be asked to play with the senior guys, who were not that active anyway. Towards the disbandment on the Flamboyant Junior team, I turned out frequently for the Seniors and after matches, I would hang around with them and listen to all sorts of lewd tales of high jinx and malarkey. At the same time, they would teach me of the unseen things that happen on the football pitch. Things that would really hurt people. I was a little hesitant at first but when they said, “If you don’t do this to others, they will do it to you.” Somehow that made sense in the mind of a young teenager.
The Scissors Tackle. The Follow-through Clearance. The Knee-in-the-Back. The Crotch Kick. The Shirt Pull. Those were just some of the skills I learned and put to practice in my games. I was a striker in those days and learning about those skills helped me protect myself. I really believed that was the case. Soon, I slowly moved down the field and became a defender and I began exacting such measures on my opponents.
It was pretty cool during those testosterone-fueled days. I would actively seek out the most skillful of opponents and try to take him out. Especially those over-indulgent dribblers, flashy types who had golden brown hair. Oh, a cutie-pie of a face was an added bonus! I had this belief, one shared by many fellow hard men.
“You can beat me with your fancy skill once, maybe twice. But the third time you try it, you’ll be wishing you didn’t.”
Who cares about the ball? I just wanted to hurt the bugger for trying to be cheeky one time too many. It was even better when you came up against a player like yourself who was putting the hurt on your teammates. I was especially incensed when the receiving party was a teammate who I had a liking too. Jaz would fall into this category. He was the ballerina of the team. The twinkle-toes with laser sight. The schemer. Mr. Playmaker. It made him a natural target for rough treatment. Furthermore, Jaz was very mild back then. He would never be dirty to opponents. He was Mr. Gentleman. Note my use of past tense!
When someone clattered to him, I made it personal. “You hurt my friend, you hurt me. Prepare for pain!” said the voices in my head. The next thing you know, the offender is rolling in the dirt, squealing in pain. The referee would be in my face and I would just feign confusion, asking, “How can that be a foul?”
There was even verbal bantering between the hard men. Words such as “You watch out”, “You just wait” and “Watch your back” were commonplace on the pitch. It was a battle between two bulls and fortunately for me, I have always come out on tops, thanks to the education I received from the many wise men. I was more prepared, lucky and Allah did not want to punish me for my wrongdoings yet.
I carried the hard man tag with me until my Redbacks stint until finally, I was struck with THE knee injury. Gosh, not that story again Kai. But seriously, the injury was the first time I thought of all those people who I intentionally hurt. The most poignant fact of all was that nobody tackled me. I went over my own knee. However, did I play that game with the intention of hurting my opponents. I sure did but at least my intentions were good. I wanted my team to win! I hope my pupils won’t be reading this.
I don’t do it these days. But the skills I learned has helped protect me against some nasty challenges recently. I recognize such players and I realize it’s better to lose the ball than lose my leg. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I admire the football hard men. People like Keane, Vieira and of course the king of hard men, Vinnie Jones will earn my admiration. Not for the pain that they bring to the game, but for the passion and spirit that they bring to the team.
