Last month, my husband and I went to the Mumbai Hockey Association’s stadium to watch kids from Akanksha Foundation play a match.
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A glorious bright Sunday..
My husband is a huge sports enthusiast, and has been speaking to Akanksha about helping with their sports initiatives. So we went to take a look at some of their efforts.
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It was just a local match, so the stands were empty except for a few of us who came to cheer the Akanksha team. I found myself enjoying the sense of space.
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Some of us Akanksha supporters under the cool pavillion.
Scoreboard at the Mahindra Stadium
The match started out with high hopes, but as the game progressed, there was much moaning and agonizing over every lost goal (the other team had much better, more seasoned players!). The samosa-walla provided a very welcome diversion.
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Five rupees for two samosas. Extra chutney for free.
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As everyone queued up for samosas, I realized once again how much I like going to small local club-level competitions. There is something homely and warm about cheering for players who you know. It’s even nicer when you know the people in the audience and can exchange “expert” comments or wisecracks. Compared to “big league”, serious, competitive sport (NBA Playoffs, cricket matches), I find that this sort of almost intimate sporting experience is much more satisfying for me.
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To tell the truth, I am not a big fan of commercially organised sport. I’m not sure why - perhaps I don’t like the like the advertising and sponsorships and media frenzy. Or perhaps I don’t like the way huge numbers of sports fans become polarized, especially when games are played across countries. (Did you watch the Olympics? Surely people don’t need MORE ways to pit themselves against each other and prove that “we” are better than “them”?).
But I suspect the real reason that I don’t like organized sports is because I understand all too well that sports is a substitute for war. When I watch an India-Pak match on TV, or football hooliganism, it reminds me that humans are an aggressive, unattractive, jingoistic species.
Of course, it isn’t as black and white as that. Games teach us how to cooperate with each other to achieve common goals. They teach discipline and hard work. They help us learn how to handle defeat.
More important, they teach us how to overcome odds. On a recent trip to Masai Mara, we were on a long dusty drive between two villages, when I saw a long-distance runner on a training run. I don’t think he had access to fancy equipment or expensive coaching, but he wasn’t letting that stop him. When we passed him, running alone under the vast Kenyan sky, he raised his hands and smiled a broad smile – it was both a greeting and a victory sign. To me, this is among the most attractive features of sports – that it is a great leveler. Rich or poor, urban or rural - if you have sporting talent, that’s what really counts.
In India, where gross inequalities are embedded into the societal framework, sports can offer a new ray of hope for poor children with little or no access to the benefits of an English education.
But I suspect the real reason that I don’t like organized sports is because I understand all too well that sports is a substitute for war. When I watch an India-Pak match on TV, or football hooliganism, it reminds me that humans are an aggressive, unattractive, jingoistic species.
Of course, it isn’t as black and white as that. Games teach us how to cooperate with each other to achieve common goals. They teach discipline and hard work. They help us learn how to handle defeat.
More important, they teach us how to overcome odds. On a recent trip to Masai Mara, we were on a long dusty drive between two villages, when I saw a long-distance runner on a training run. I don’t think he had access to fancy equipment or expensive coaching, but he wasn’t letting that stop him. When we passed him, running alone under the vast Kenyan sky, he raised his hands and smiled a broad smile – it was both a greeting and a victory sign. To me, this is among the most attractive features of sports – that it is a great leveler. Rich or poor, urban or rural - if you have sporting talent, that’s what really counts.
In India, where gross inequalities are embedded into the societal framework, sports can offer a new ray of hope for poor children with little or no access to the benefits of an English education.
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And of course, sports can create a new sense of self-worth. As the first match drew to an end, I watched a new team of boys from Akanksha get ready for the second match. As they kidded around, showing off their moves, I couldn't help thinking how happy they looked. Some of them didn't have the right shoes, or the right socks or ankle guards, but their smiles were bright and they were on top of the world.
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The Akanksha motto "Aspire. Achieve. Be the Change."
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