Update: An essay I'd written on the ethical conundrum the Qatar World Cup has posed for football fans was published in The Times of India. Click here to read that essay. The below piece explores some of those ideas but is quite different. The details of my glorious cricketing career, for instance, is knowledge meant only for readers of this newsletter.
My earliest World Cup memory is of the 1998 final between France and Brazil. I knew as much about football then as I do about cryptocurrency now - which is, less than nothing. Abject ignorance, however, has never stopped me from pontificating on a topic.1 I remember discussing the final with my friends the following day and observing, with the air of one who has spent decades studying the sport, that Ronaldo (the OG Brazilian Ronaldo, not the simpering back-biter) just didn’t seem to be in the groove. “They say,” I’d mused, having no clue who they are, “he can swerve the football like a banana. We didn’t see that Ronaldo in the final last night.” My friends had nodded, no doubt awed by my insights, and then the conversations had turned and I had promptly forgotten all about football for the next few years.
I wasn’t all that great at sports, as a child. In fact, let me be honest - we are all friends here, after all - I was terrible at it. If there is a term to describe someone who is the antithesis of a sports prodigy, it would fit me like a glove. My parents figured that my athletic ineptitude could be solved by the panacea for all schoolboy travails: tuition classes. Insofar as the choice of sport was concerned, there was little debate. It had to be something that was accessible, convenient, and required no athleticism. So, obviously, they chose cricket.
I would love to tell you that my cricketing career was a dazzling success but I think you can guess the truth of it. After weeks of net practice, I was allowed to bat in three training games and scored 0, 1, and 0* respectively. If there was batting potential lurking under the surface, the coaches chose not to dig for it. I was tossed over to the bowling coaches but a remarkable inability to keep the ball anywhere close to the stumps, made that interaction quite brief.
The next day, my parents were summoned to the coaching centre and that was that; I never went back again. My parents deny it to this day, but I believe the coaching centre had - in an unprecedented move - refunded the non-refundable fees to remove any evidence that could connect them to me and my cricketing skills.
I fell in love with football because of Euro 2000. Not the tournament; the PC game. I used to play the game for hours, even taking San Marino (the lowest-ranked team) all the way to the final. Somewhere along the way, my obsession spilt over into real life and I found myself playing football during recess in school, then after school hours, then before as well as after school hours, and eventually, every possible minute of the day2.
By the time the 2002 World Cup came around, I was a convert; an evangelist, even. My friends and I spent hours debating the prospects of different nations and bunked school to watch a few of the knock-out games3. My first taste of watching tournament football was exhilarating, infuriating4, and thoroughly entertaining. My journey, as a football fan, had begun.
In the past, the days leading up to a football World Cup would be characterised by a feeling of anticipation; a palpable and infectious excitement, as the chatter grew around squads, fixtures, and the de rigueur for every World Cup: the ‘Group of Death’. Almost every nation on the face of this planet would have played some part in the qualifying rounds held over years, whittling down the competition slowly, inexorably until only the thirty-two finalists remained.
For some countries, qualifying for the World Cup would have been a routine matter - the bare minimum - with their targets set on the prize or at least a deep run in the tournament. For other teams, simply making it to the World Cup would have been a dream come true, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that would be cherished by their supporters, perhaps for generations to come. As the opening day of the tournament drew closer, however, these distinctions would cease to matter. The World Cup belongs to everyone and there would be the sense of the entire planet keying itself up to witness the greatest sporting event humanity has conceived5.
But this time, it just doesn’t feel the same.
The malaise and disquiet regarding the Qatar World Cup could be attributed to any number of factors: the allegations of corruption surrounding Qatar’s selection as the host nation, the horrific reports of more than 6500 migrant workers dying in the Gulf country since 2010, the concerns raised by human rights groups about exploitative labour practices and debilitating injuries suffered by workers who built the stadiums and infrastructure for this World Cup, the refusal by the Qatari government to set-up a compensation fund for workers. The list, unfortunately, goes on.
FIFA and Qatar have repeatedly claimed that the criticism is fueled by racism and the Western media’s eagerness to denigrate a Muslim State, and perhaps there is some truth in that. But it is impossible to dismiss the numbers and stories being reported, as nothing more than a vendetta. Far too many lives have been lost or irretrievably damaged, for us to turn our backs on what has transpired.
I have no pithy solution to offer, nor can I urge you to boycott the event. Despite it all, I know my love for the sport will compel me - and 5 billion others like me - to tune in to the opening match tomorrow. I can only wonder what our decision to participate in this World Cup reflects - reveals - about us and whether we can ever hope for change.
Amnesty International is spearheading a coalition of human rights organizations, and demanding that FIFA and Qatar should compensate migrant workers for human rights abuses endured to make the world cup a reality. You can sign the petition here.
Human Rights Watch is also urging the FIFA President to provide a remedy for the abuse of migrant workers' rights in Qatar. You can sign the petition here.
Freedom United is campaigning for Qatar to end forced labour and improve working conditions for migrant workers. You can sign the petition here.
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I was marginally better at football than I was at cricket but more importantly, it was a case of enthusiasm overcoming all deficiencies in ability.
I am ashamed to admit I supported the English football team, at the time. I know, I know. What can I say? I was young and foolish.
A sentiment, which fans of the English football team are keenly familiar with.
Okay, maybe the second greatest.