I took in the room. It was spartan but filled with army memorabilia. Later I would learn stories of how a bad shoulder would render Patil sir out of army service. How he preferred a teacher's job to a desk job in army in some ramshackle office in a non descript army building.
"How's your nose? Does it still hurt?" He asked
I told him it didn't. Then I told him how much I loved playing. We discussed various teams, and I told him I rooted for Italy. How cool Paolo Maldini was and how I felt frustrated at being left out.
He told me that he wasn’t going to pick me anyway in the team as he wanted a minimum of 4 km from all his players. He told me that my body was too rigid and not fluid and that I was uncoordinated.
“Then why did you invite me to the trials?”
“Because I wanted you to experience the situation. Did you not like it? What if you had managed to stop those kicks. The very guys who had hooted you would have slapped your back.”
“There’s a saying that the higher you fly the harder you fall. But I’d like to believe that it’s the very depth of our experiences that separates a man from the imposter he masquerades as, or believes himself to be. You are in a tough situation as I understand. It can make you or break you. And the funny part is, it is totally up to you.”
I didn’t understand it at that point. He asked me about my family and other general chit chat till our PT period ended.
Few days later I heard our class teacher Mr Panchram tell a story about Patil sir. Lt. Patil as he was known then apparently carried a severely injured friend of his thru 30 KMs of jungle terrain somewhere in NE
..with a bullet in his shoulder.
I was walking home that day and imagining how hard and painful it would have been. It was difficult to imagine such grit and bloody mindedness from the almost laid back demeanor people had come to associate with Patil sir. My heart welled with his respect. It is then I recalled his statement. About being under cosh and how it and how it made or broke people.
I wanted to be in the team. It was a crazy thought. But I just wanted it so bad.
That night I remember dreaming about being in army. I dreamed about playing football and scoring goals.
Over the next few years I had multiple opportunities to see the injury whenever I saw him sleeve less Tee's. By the time he found a rescue party the bullet was so deep and fragmented the doctors decided not to remove it at all. It effectively ended his army career. And yes they did give him some medal for that.
I started running and doing basic exercises. It was painful. My lungs were not accustomed to it. Initially my condition worsened. I was surprised by the amount of phlegm I coughed out. Sometimes my father had to come and take me back home as I sat wheezing on the ground unable to move. But I improved. I reached a point where I could do 6 KMs around the school ground.
It took me 1 year. Most people if they are at it fully would be able to make this within couple of months.
I started keeping goal during the PT breaks. It was the least preferred job among boys. But I resolved to be good at it and I soiled my shirts.
A good goalkeeper as I learnt 1) needed to know where the right and left posts where 2) Place his defenders during the free kicks and minimize angles 3) should have good reflexes.
“Play the ball and you’ll play the player”, Patil sir would say.
In an year I was competing with Anustup for the keeper’s post. For parity Patil sir lined up us against same players. It boiled down to the decider. Anustup failed to judge Sangharsh’s kick, it went the other way.
There were 2-3 players in our team who were adept at playing with both feet. Sango was the best. He would run in and would simply aim and blast into either the left or right bracket, or wrong foot one into the other direction. It was difficult to judge as he had a similar run up for both and kind of stopped before his shot, before the right or left foot came into action. His right foot shots were like bullets so you had to commit to a jump to have a chance to stop it, but if it was his left this very jump could be your undoing.
I took my mark. I remembered the last time and instead of fear I managed a chuckle. I saw Sango mark his run up and charge into his shot. I watched his foot ankle downwards and I still remember seeing the extra half a step of his right foot going slightly back while he twitched his body to the right. I knew it was going to be his left.
I stood my ground and moved towards my right and when the shot came and punched it away. I was IN! And I could see Patil sir’s approving smile.
“Nice guess harami” Sango mouthed. I just smiled. Over the next year I stopped many of his goals and earned his respect. Some secrets are best kept hidden. I never saw anyone else stop his kicks. He was that good.
We cruised to the semis and defeated KV VSN in Bhopal region. The finals were with a team equally good (K V Kamptee).
It went down to the wire. And we won in the Penalty shootouts and I saved more than the moron in the opposite team. I was carried around the ground on shoulders. I cried like a girl in the changing room. Many of those involved didn’t remember, but were the ones who hooted me once.
I remember the day. It was raining and I jumped on every puddle I could find on the way back home. My mom couldn’t understand the fuss. Sango, Anil, Sumit qualified for the Nationals from the regional pool team.
Later on I would play center defense and right wing in my college days. And I would graduate as the best outgoing student for my participation in sports as well as acads. Funny who would have thought!
2010
I met Patil sir when I visited the school. He is nowadays in Regional K V office and is responsible for inspections and overall development of KV’s in the region. Not many sports teachers make this big. He mentioned the irony of inspecting the very school he once taught in. He lamented the lack of sports in kids nowadays and how no of computers exceeded the sports equipment in the school inventory.
He probably never knew the impact he’s had on me. And though he recalled seeing me he could not remember my name. He was taken aback when I asked him about his shoulder. “Still creaking along”, he replied with his smile.
The last I saw of him was whistling and nonchalantly walking down the corridor…
"How's your nose? Does it still hurt?" He asked
I told him it didn't. Then I told him how much I loved playing. We discussed various teams, and I told him I rooted for Italy. How cool Paolo Maldini was and how I felt frustrated at being left out.
He told me that he wasn’t going to pick me anyway in the team as he wanted a minimum of 4 km from all his players. He told me that my body was too rigid and not fluid and that I was uncoordinated.
“Then why did you invite me to the trials?”
“Because I wanted you to experience the situation. Did you not like it? What if you had managed to stop those kicks. The very guys who had hooted you would have slapped your back.”
“There’s a saying that the higher you fly the harder you fall. But I’d like to believe that it’s the very depth of our experiences that separates a man from the imposter he masquerades as, or believes himself to be. You are in a tough situation as I understand. It can make you or break you. And the funny part is, it is totally up to you.”
I didn’t understand it at that point. He asked me about my family and other general chit chat till our PT period ended.
Few days later I heard our class teacher Mr Panchram tell a story about Patil sir. Lt. Patil as he was known then apparently carried a severely injured friend of his thru 30 KMs of jungle terrain somewhere in NE
..with a bullet in his shoulder.
I was walking home that day and imagining how hard and painful it would have been. It was difficult to imagine such grit and bloody mindedness from the almost laid back demeanor people had come to associate with Patil sir. My heart welled with his respect. It is then I recalled his statement. About being under cosh and how it and how it made or broke people.
I wanted to be in the team. It was a crazy thought. But I just wanted it so bad.
That night I remember dreaming about being in army. I dreamed about playing football and scoring goals.
Over the next few years I had multiple opportunities to see the injury whenever I saw him sleeve less Tee's. By the time he found a rescue party the bullet was so deep and fragmented the doctors decided not to remove it at all. It effectively ended his army career. And yes they did give him some medal for that.
I started running and doing basic exercises. It was painful. My lungs were not accustomed to it. Initially my condition worsened. I was surprised by the amount of phlegm I coughed out. Sometimes my father had to come and take me back home as I sat wheezing on the ground unable to move. But I improved. I reached a point where I could do 6 KMs around the school ground.
It took me 1 year. Most people if they are at it fully would be able to make this within couple of months.
I started keeping goal during the PT breaks. It was the least preferred job among boys. But I resolved to be good at it and I soiled my shirts.
A good goalkeeper as I learnt 1) needed to know where the right and left posts where 2) Place his defenders during the free kicks and minimize angles 3) should have good reflexes.
“Play the ball and you’ll play the player”, Patil sir would say.
In an year I was competing with Anustup for the keeper’s post. For parity Patil sir lined up us against same players. It boiled down to the decider. Anustup failed to judge Sangharsh’s kick, it went the other way.
There were 2-3 players in our team who were adept at playing with both feet. Sango was the best. He would run in and would simply aim and blast into either the left or right bracket, or wrong foot one into the other direction. It was difficult to judge as he had a similar run up for both and kind of stopped before his shot, before the right or left foot came into action. His right foot shots were like bullets so you had to commit to a jump to have a chance to stop it, but if it was his left this very jump could be your undoing.
I took my mark. I remembered the last time and instead of fear I managed a chuckle. I saw Sango mark his run up and charge into his shot. I watched his foot ankle downwards and I still remember seeing the extra half a step of his right foot going slightly back while he twitched his body to the right. I knew it was going to be his left.
I stood my ground and moved towards my right and when the shot came and punched it away. I was IN! And I could see Patil sir’s approving smile.
“Nice guess harami” Sango mouthed. I just smiled. Over the next year I stopped many of his goals and earned his respect. Some secrets are best kept hidden. I never saw anyone else stop his kicks. He was that good.
We cruised to the semis and defeated KV VSN in Bhopal region. The finals were with a team equally good (K V Kamptee).
It went down to the wire. And we won in the Penalty shootouts and I saved more than the moron in the opposite team. I was carried around the ground on shoulders. I cried like a girl in the changing room. Many of those involved didn’t remember, but were the ones who hooted me once.
I remember the day. It was raining and I jumped on every puddle I could find on the way back home. My mom couldn’t understand the fuss. Sango, Anil, Sumit qualified for the Nationals from the regional pool team.
Later on I would play center defense and right wing in my college days. And I would graduate as the best outgoing student for my participation in sports as well as acads. Funny who would have thought!
2010
I met Patil sir when I visited the school. He is nowadays in Regional K V office and is responsible for inspections and overall development of KV’s in the region. Not many sports teachers make this big. He mentioned the irony of inspecting the very school he once taught in. He lamented the lack of sports in kids nowadays and how no of computers exceeded the sports equipment in the school inventory.
He probably never knew the impact he’s had on me. And though he recalled seeing me he could not remember my name. He was taken aback when I asked him about his shoulder. “Still creaking along”, he replied with his smile.
The last I saw of him was whistling and nonchalantly walking down the corridor…
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