Ola Ola Ola Ola Messi Messi! Ola Ola Ola Ola Messi Messi!

Today is the day after the day I went to the Maracana Stadium, the mecca of the football, for the first time. The clock had struck 63rd minute and Messi received the ball half way up the opposite field. And then came his trademark run, dodging one, then second, then third and finally ball went to the far post, beyond the reach of the Goal Keeper. And the stadium lit up.

Poor defenders wondering what to do

All were enthralled by the goal and the fans stood up, giving their customary bow to the magician gracing the Maracana Stadium on its birthday. For the fans all over the world, not so for the Brazilians, the goal was the perfect gift to the Maracana stadium on its birthday, 15th June 2014.

I will always remember the day I went to the stadium. I woke up early in the morning around 7'o clock. I had my tea and patiently started waiting for the clock to tick itself to 3'o clock, the time we would leave the house. Finally it did. To reach the stadium we first boarded a bus. The journey was an hour long but it was worth it. On my way to the stadium, I looked outside the window of the bus and I was travelling in, trying to understand the city which is playing the perfect host to me. Favelas are the most paradoxical presence in the city.

Favela

For the visitors they are a sight to hold, something from which they cannot remove their eyes from. In a way they increase the charm of the city and makes you talk about them for on and on to people back home thus increasing curiosity among the future travellers. But for the Cariocas, it’s a blemish. Favela literal translation is 'House on the Hills'. The poorest of the poorest Cariocas, who can’t afford a house, live there. The legend has it that the soldiers who didn’t have any place to live, lived on the hills which then developed in to a big slum. But if we look closely, I find favela, the slums, more developed than slums back in my country. And in general that goes for the whole city itself. Strangely, the country has the infrastructure of a developed country yet it’s a developing country, part of BRICS.

We reached Vincent de Carvahlo, the place where we switched over to the metro. In 30 minutes or so we reached the stadium. All paths leading up to the mecca was littered with Argentinians, again not a happy sight for the Brazilians. They were cheering and singing on their way to Mecca. I could see few people with play cards "Comprendo". They were looking for one seller. We marched on and on, in the sea of fans, towards the Gate D. Our ticket had complete information which helped us to reach our seats, without anyone helping us neither we knowing, except for one, more than few phrases of Portuguese. A similar feat back home will be impossible for any.

White - Blue wave

Blue wave part 2

 

I will never forget that time when I stepped inside and saw the field for the first time. I couldn’t close my mouth for few minutes. It was a sight to behold. The brightly lit field, with fans all over the stadium, Bosnian fans, with Brazilians counterpart, having their shirts out cheering, and the Argentinians singing. A competition was going on and I was a spectator. I wish I knew their language. The only negative thing which I found was that the football field looked smaller than it appears on the television.

Before the match we knew that Bosnia was making their debut in the world Cup and no one expected them to do much. Argentina, with names such as Gonzalez Hugain, Sergio Agüero, Lionel Messi and Angel di Maria, can intimidate any team on this planet. But how wrong we were. Bosnia played good, played much better than my expectation. I had expected Edin Dzeko (No one is more involved in more goals than him in the European qualifiers: 14 – 10 goals, 4 assists) to carry the team on his shoulders but it wasn’t so. They had cohesion, discipline, stuck to tactics and more importantly didn’t gave enough space to Messi. Except for the first corner in which the own goal was scored on 3rd minute, Bosnia didn’t gave me any indication or proof that they are newbies. Match went on. Argentina was playing a passing game, building the game from the back. They would move the ball around and around. But the third part was packed up by Bosnia, not allowing either Messi or Angel di Maria to showcase their talent. Poor Agüero was most of the times left alone. This didn’t mean Bosnia had come to defend. When they had the chance they went on doing their business. Sadly apart from Dzeko, they lack world class finisher hence nothing productive came out of it.

Maracana

Since the start of the game I was not hopeful and wasn’t expecting Bosnia to do much because I was aware of their problems. Dzeko was well guarded. And that Messi goal in the 64th minute made it clear to me that Bosnia will go home empty handed. But my youngest fufaji had faith in Bosnia and since fifth minute he had been saying on and on that Bosnia will score a goal. That moment came in the 85th minute when Bosnia scored from open play. From there on it was game on. The whole stadium, Bosnians and Brazilians stood up, cheering the men forward. Sabella, the Argentinian coach, substituted Sergio Agüero and shut the shop. It was a nervy end for them. All in all the match was money worth it. I got my own cup at the end of the match, Budweiser, the official sponsor of World Cup :)

We should give credit to the Brazilians for constructing such an amazing stadium. We were out of the stadium in 15 minutes without any hiccups. We walked and walked, mesmerised. We had witnessed history. I would surely recount it to my grandchildren. Walking out towards the station came the first nervous moment. A team of riot control police was on duty. They had the full gear on with the gun and the shield. I walked quietly, trying to pass them quickly. At once I crossed, they changed their direction 180 degrees. It felt that something wrong is going to happen. I stepped on a temporary bridge which was connecting to a concrete overhead footpath which then connected to the subway station. The temporary bridge was jam packed but we still went on walking. At this moment I was nervous and wanted to enter the station quickly. The worst imaginable thing happened at that moment which made my heart race. The bridge started to shake, just like in an earthquake.

On way to the Bridge. Notice darkness at the top.

Dhakk! Dhakk!

All around me people started shouting in Portuguese, Spanish, English and French. The only word I could make out "Shaking". On and on I walked. I knew that that I cannot go down and swim against a strong tide. I know I can’t. And since I was in middle of the bridge, the only way out was up. Thankfully I am not back home, otherwise there would have been stampede. Brazilians and the rest are cultured and we managed to climb up without any other incident. With Argentinians singing and we enjoying the music managed to board the metro. The metro at that time resembled Rajiv Chowk which was a soothing thought. Through the metro, then the bus and finally car, we reached home safe and sound.

Lo! What surprise. A birthday cake was waiting for us at the home. Not that we reached home safely, neither we were celebrating Maracana's stadium birthday, it was my eldest Fufaji's birthday.