Shimla-the birthplace of the Durand Cup and the Indian Air Force ...

Brockton, the only heavyweight champion to finish his career
undefeated, fell ill. He had an upset stomach! And a day later was
the Finals! Bad luck knew no bounds. A non-entity of a team that
had stormed into the final was being robbed of its rightful hour of
glory by fate. The star of the show was down and out due to over
indulgence. The whole team was demoralised. The CO drowned
his sorrow in ‘malt’! He was on the verge of crying himself a river!
The final was with a boisterous, gung ho Sikh unit, which was
deft in Shaminder Singh’s adage of ‘the man never to be allowed
to follow the ball’. The whistle blew the start. The game started.
The unit was there in full strength though they had not the cheer
that had become their routine. The CO appeared as if he was
participating in a matam. The Brigade Commander
tried to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to get
the CO back to his boisterous self. He sipped his
Campa Cola as if he were a child sucking on his
thumb. Though the star was missing, the unit’s
team was at it with all the josh as if no one was
being missed! It did nothing to cheer up the CO or
the unit. The fat Assamese boy who had replaced
Kashmira was dancing around the goalmouth as
if he were Mohammed Ali of football. He danced
like a butterfly and stung the ball like a bee. Things
were not going too bad. The unit was holding its
own. Not a goal had yet been scored by either
side. The tension was palpable. The Sikh unit’s
ranks were getting restless and more furious.
Then relief came for all. Half time was blown and
still it was goalless! Half time over, the game
commenced. The CO watched the game proceed
as it grew thick, fast and furious. No quarters were
given and no quarters were asked. The game swung from one half
to another and still there was no score. The frustration was growing
both on the field and amongst the spectators. The nonpartisan
crowd seems to be favouring the unit since the Sikh unit had
been the undisputed champions for two years successively and
it was expected that the Medium Regiment of the Artillery would
give them the run for their money and here was a team that was
unheard of, holding them off! The clock ticked on. There was just
5 minutes to go. It was still goalless. Two players had already been
shown the red card and were out. One from the unit and one from
the Sikh. It appeared that some more were asking for it!
Three minutes to go. There was a melee in front of the unit
goalmouth when the fat Assamese stopper full back gave one
mighty kick and sent the ball well beyond the half line and into the
Sikh half. All ran towards the Sikh half including Sikh and the unit
forwards and the midfielders. The ball was sent back into the unit
half. The Assamese chap who had advanced dangerously near the
half line, trapped the ball neatly, dribbled past a few Sikh chaps
40 July 2011 purple beret
and gave an almighty kick.
It was just 30 seconds to time! There was a huge melee in front
of the Sikh goalmouth. The goalkeeper had gripped the ball. It
slipped. Someone ran up, but the goalkeeper pounced on the ball.
It appeared that it had slipped again. None could make out what
was happening, when Ramu came from nowhere and in the melee
gave another almighty kick. And the goalkeeper and the ball were
in the goal! The goal judge furiously waved his flag indicating a
goal. The referee blew his whistle and it was over. The unit had
won the finals one nil! The CO was ecstatic and the unit stand
went berserk. The Sikhs protested that there was a foul and so the
goal should be disallowed. The referee consulted the goal judge.
They were firm on their decision. It was a goal, fair
and square.
Catch the Sikhs giving up. They appealed to
the Committee. The Committee turned down
the appeal. Thus, the unit won their first sports
Championship and that too with a team that had
no hope in hell! It was a grand success. The CO
was overwhelmed and when he was told to take
the Trophy from the GOC, he smiled wanly and
waved Ramu to do the honours. He deserved to
lift the Trophy more than anyone else! It was a
historic win.
Many years afterwards when the CO met Ramu
and they were reminiscing about the Football
match that made unit history, the CO gushingly
congratulated Ramu. Ramu looked embarrassed.
The CO wondered why and he asked him so.
“Well sir, we did win. It was not only our win, but it was also by
the feet of God!”
“Feat of God, Ramu?”
“Yes sir, it was a feat of God and the feet of God too!”
“Feat of God and the feat of God too?”
“Yes sir, the feat of God and f-e-e-t of God too!”
“What are you talking about? Are you in your cups?
“No sir. It was a feat of God because it was done by the feet of God.
Something like Maradonna’s ‘hand of god’!’ Ramu gave a pregnant
pause and continued, “You see, sir, in that melee, I am not too
sure if the ball had slipped the goalkeeper’s hand, but I gave a
God Almighty kick that saw both the ball and the Goalkeeper in
the net!
Ramu paused for effect.
“It was a feat with the feet and God alone knows the truth!”