Tonight would be the first time that Niloy, Tara, Fahim and Sakib had been in the same room together in nearly three years. The last time they had all been together was for Fahim’s birthday, a fancy dinner at an expensive Japanese restaurant in the city. Tonight, after years of separation, they were finally convening at Niloy’s house to celebrate his getting married in two weeks.
***
All it took for Tara and Niloy to become friends in the second grade was a shared love for the same football team. Tara noticed Niloy’s red Manchester United backpack one day in class and immediately struck up a conversation with him. They talked about football and their favourite players for hours that day and quickly became pals.
Tara and Niloy tried to catch every single Manchester United game that they could and would often spend the weekend at each other’s houses watching their team play. For the post-midnight Champions League matches, they would convince their parents to let them sleep over, often planning days in advance how to ask for permission.
The two friends loved playing football even more than they loved watching it. They would play during break at school, sweating profusely for half an hour before quickly rushing back to class. But they would spend most of their time at the field in front of Niloy’s house. It was here, among the many, many games of football, that they became acquainted with Sakib and Fahim to form the rest of their friend group. Niloy played as a midfielder, while Tara played on the left wing. Sakib played on the opposite wing from Tara and Fahim played up front as a centre forward.
They would all gather at the field to play nearly every single day, no matter the weather. They would meet at the field after the Asr Azaan and play until Maghrib. The summers saw stinkingly hot and humid days, with their t-shirts seemingly glued to their backs with sweat. The seemingly endless summer days would see countless games of footy, as they played until they could barely see the ball anymore and mosquitoes formed long lines above their heads. There were constant arguments over foul calls. Many times, they almost came to blows, and sometimes they actually did. No matter what fights happened though, everything was always resolved after the final kick of the ball. Monsoon would see the boys slip and slide as they chased after the ball, their chests shivering from the rain and wind. A rainy day didn’t mean there would be no footy for that day, but it often meant the field would be too waterlogged to kick about for the next day or two.
After playing, they would often go to eat at a restaurant that was directly opposite the field. The establishment was a hole-in-the-wall place that served lucchi, chaap and lemonade. They sat on tiny green plastic chairs as they scarfed down the food, served piping hot. Food always tasted better after a game. The owner of the restaurant eventually became acquainted with them and would make sure that they always got their food ahead of the other customers.
After eating, they would all hurry back home to catch the evening cartoons — Dragon Ball Z, Beyblade and Pokémon. Sometimes, they would end games even before Maghrib Azaan, so that they wouldn’t miss out on an episode. The boys would discuss the episode the next day when they saw each other, always wondering what would happen in the next episode of Dragon Ball Z.
They all lived within reasonable distance of each other. Niloy and Fahim lived in opposite apartment buildings, while Sakib and Tara lived on the same block. Following their games, Sakib and Tara would take a rickshaw back home, alternating who paid the fare each time.
Tara and Niloy’s Champions League sleepovers now saw a larger turnout. Fahim was a die-hard Barcelona fan, while Sakib supported Real Madrid. Niloy began collecting football posters and his wall was soon adorned with his favourite players. Despite playing in midfield, his favourite player by far to watch was Wayne Rooney. There were two massive posters of Rooney that adorned his walls. There was a massive United poster above his bed that featured the fabled Class of 92, with David Beckham, Ryan Giggs and Paul Scholes. On Champions League nights, they would all huddle around the box TV in Niloy’s room. They did their best to hold in their cheers and insults to avoid waking up his parents. They knew nearly all the players on the teams and would debate starting lineups and formations as if they knew the game better than the manager himself. They would sometimes hear shouts from other people in Niloy’s building, a sign that others were awake alongside them.
The only thing that seemed to matter more than the Champions League to the friend group was the interschool football that they played. All four of them were in the school football team and would play a few interschool tournaments per year. Each one was met with weeks of apprehension, with many of them being unable to sleep the night before.
Interschool tourneys typically took place over the three days of Thursday, Friday and Saturday, with the last day being reserved for the finals and awards ceremony. This meant three days to do nothing but hang out with friends and play football. It was also a chance to meet new people from other schools, and for the boys to meet girls. They all talked about finding girlfriends at these tournaments but most of the time they would be too scared to even go up and talk to anybody.
Sakib was the first one to be selected for the school football team. He was nearly three years younger than anyone else in the team that year, an age gap that seemed like decades at that stage of their lives. The boys would go with him to the tournament, cheering loudly for their team. They were among a minority at the visiting school, their yells drowned out by the cheers of the home crowd. Sakib would get limited minutes of play as a substitute, but his friends cheered every time he got to touch the ball. At the end of it all, their school failed to make it past the group stage, losing badly by a margin of three goals to nil in their last match. Sakib was disappointed with the loss, but was glad to have had the opportunity to represent his school at the tournament. On the car ride home, Sakib told the rest of the group that this was only the beginning and that next time they would all play for the team together.
The next year all four of them made the team. They went home and showed their parents the jerseys, proudly pointing out their names written on the back. There was even a group photo session held at Niloy’s house, each of them beaming excitedly in their new jerseys.
The boys would initially struggle to win these tournaments. There was a string of consecutive tournaments where they lost in the semifinals. The worst of these losses happened when they were in the ninth grade. They had finally broken their semifinals curse and were in the finals. The game started with Tara dribbling past two defenders and slotting the ball in the bottom left corner for a brilliant early goal. Niloy doubled their lead a minute later with a header into the top left corner. The two goals gave the boys an irrational sense of confidence and they almost began celebrating right there on the field. During half-time, the team high-fived one another and already began talking about lifting the trophy.
The boys would concede a goal just a few minutes into the second half, however, dampening their elevated spirits. Moments later, Sakib would give the ball away to the opposing team, who promptly thumped it into the back of the net. The boys’ two-goal cushion had evaporated in minutes and all was equal yet again. A game that had seemed a certainty now lay precariously in the balance.
The boys had lost their cool. They were playing carelessly and were unable to string passes together. A particularly sloppy pass from Fahim would see the opposition striker gain possession. He wasted no time at all and sent a shot hurtling towards the goal. The goalkeeper dived as fast as he could to stop the ball but was outmatched by its sheer velocity. He looked on in vain as the football sailed past his outstretched arms.
The referee blew his whistle a minute later. As soon as the game ended, the blame games began. Tara blamed Niloy for not converting his chances; Niloy yelled at Fahim for giving the ball away. Niloy and Fahim got right in each other’s grills, their faces mere centimetres away from each other. Both of their eyes were widened with rage, their faces red from anger and exhaustion. The rest of the team had to step between them. The bus ride home was noiseless, with none of the boys speaking to each other. They hung their heads and dejectedly stared out the window. A few of them listened to music through their headphones, trying to forget the embarrassing loss they had just endured. Even years later, Tara could still hear the silence from that bus ride home.
The next tournament the boys played would be on their own turf. Before the start of this tournament, the boys spent extra hours at the field practicing and even got up early in the morning to jog together. They promised each other not to repeat their past mistakes and vowed to win this tournament no matter what.
They breezed through the group stage, winning both their games comfortably by a margin of two goals to nil. They used this momentum to get past the semifinal, winning one-nil. With these obstacles parried, there was only one game left — the grand finale.
The final began incredibly well for the boys. They held most of the possession and created the better chances of the two teams. Tara opened the scoring with a headed goal and Sakib extended their lead to two goals by the end of the first half. The team was buzzing during the break, excited to have a comfortable lead. However, there was one person who wasn’t excited — Niloy. Instead of excitement, he was worried that the team would repeat the mistakes of last time and adamantly told his teammates to be alert and cautious.
Despite Niloy’s warning, it seemed as though fate was set to repeat itself. They conceded two goals yet again. The first goal was a slip-up — a failed back-pass from Tara that gifted the opponents the ball. The next goal was an absolute stunner, as the opposition defender hit a rocket from near the halfway line that thundered into the top right corner.
After conceding the second goal, there was visible panic across the team. It was at this moment that Niloy took control. He spoke to his teammates and told them that they were the better team and that there was still time to find a winning goal. This reinvigorated them and they began to play aggressively, launching attack after attack at the opposition.
Their efforts would be rewarded at the very last minute. Tara dribbled past his defender and had a clear shot at goal. But just before he could strike the ball, he was brought down from behind. The referee wasted no time at all in giving him a penalty.
Tara now had a chance to not only win the game, but also to win the tournament. His teammates huddled around him before his penalty kick, each one giving him different suggestions. His head began to spin from all the different ideas — one person telling him to aim down the middle, another telling him to put it in the bottom right corner, yet another telling him to pass it into the left corner.
Tara shrugged his teammates away and placed the ball on the penalty spot. He stepped back a few paces and looked at the goal. All of a sudden, the goal seemed as tiny as a shoebox, the goalkeeper seemingly covering its entirety. His heart was beating out of his chest, and he could hear the loud thunk it made with each passing second. His mouth was bone dry, with not one bit of saliva on his tongue. His ears rang from the sound of the crowd, who cheered him on raucously. He wondered how quickly those shouts of support would turn into boos if he missed.
The referee blew the whistle and Tara still did not know where he was going to shoot. He decided to pick a corner and hit the ball as hard as he possibly could. He noticed the keeper positioned slightly more towards his left, and decided to aim for the right side. He took a deep breath and ran towards the ball, walloping it with as much strength as he could muster. As he connected with the ball, it seemed that all the noise of the crowd had been sucked out into silence. He could barely register that the ball had hit the back of the net before he was mobbed by his teammates. There was none of the previous shouting matches or slump of defeat. Now they were ecstatic, jumping up and down with sheer joy. Sakib and Niloy ran around the field in giddy happiness. They hugged each other jubilantly and were almost on the verge of tears. After years of coming up short, they had finally done it. They were finally champions.
As the years went by, the boys would have less and less time for football. Their O levels were approaching at school and their parents began to send them off to coaching. They all moaned and complained about this at the start, painfully aware of how much it would cut into their free time. The only plus side was that they were all going to their classes together. In between coaching, they would meet up at Niloy’s house to regroup. They sat in his living room as they played cards, told stories and goofed around. There was a dartboard on the wall, and they would often play darts to the sheer horror of Niloy’s mom. Niloy’s mom would bring them food — skewers of kababs, fresh paratha and large trays of crispy french fries.
Coaching definitely took a toll on the amount of football they could play. They were heavily reliant on playing at school now, with time after school usually reserved for coaching. The boys would often be in classes till 8 p.m. every day, with little time to do much else. They were exhausted by the time they came back, and most of them just passed out after two or three hours. Games at Niloy’s field were now mostly reserved for weekends.
Soon O levels would transition into A levels. As they did, a new problem arose — what were they going to do with their lives? Their fanaticism with football had made them all want to be professional footballers. They had skipped classes to play the game and braved all kinds of weather conditions to be on the field. They had heard their fair share of lectures from their parents that if they had only spent half of their time focusing on their studies, their futures would be set. There wasn’t anything in their lives like it. Nothing brought about that same amount of joy.
But the boys realized that the world of professional sports was a cruel one. Only the best of the best made it, and most of them knew deep down in their hearts that they were not. They had enjoyed success on the interschool level, but the chances of that translating to the professional level were extremely low. On top of that, they were in Bangladesh, a country that wasn’t exactly known for its football infrastructure. It would be nearly impossible to pull it off.
The boys were left with a tough decision — give up on their dreams now or face the heartbreak of failing them. The friend group split in half over what they needed to do. Tara and Niloy decided to face reality and put their focus into joining a good university. Fahim and Sakib decided to continue with their footballing dreams. They both said that the only profession they saw themselves in was football, and that even if they failed at their goal, they at least wanted to be in the race. While continuing with school, both of them got admitted to the Abohani football academy. They hoped to attract the attention of scouts and get a chance to play in the big leagues.
The next two years saw big changes in the boys’ lives. The first big change came the following year, with Sakib being noticed by a visiting scout from London. He offered him a spot at the Arsenal Football Club academy, with the chance to eventually play for the senior team. He would have the opportunity to join them from the next summer. Sakib was overjoyed. All of his hard work — the balancing of school and football, long hours at training and countless sessions at the gym — had finally paid off. He knew what an amazing opportunity he had been given and vowed to make the most of it.
The boys were overjoyed and cheered rapturously when they heard the news. Sakib was the best player among the group and they knew that if any of them were to become a professional footballer, it would be him.
While the boys were supremely happy for Sakib, their happiness was accompanied by a slight tinge of envy. Tara and Niloy wondered if they could have had this opportunity as well if they hadn’t given up on their footballing dreams. Fahim, on the other hand, felt a sting of disappointment. He and Sakib were both at the Abohani footballing academy but only one of them had succeeded. The fact that a friend had made it seemed to hurt even more and made him wonder if he was simply not good enough.
The boys helped Sakib pack for his move and gave him a long list of things to bring them when he next came back to the country. They told him to keep in touch and asked him to tell them stories about what their favourite Premier League players were really like once he made it there.
Following Sakib’s departure, Fahim, Niloy and Tara all worked diligently on their A levels, with Fahim also balancing his academy life with his studies. Niloy and Tara began to look at universities abroad and were soon busy with essays, funding research and scholarship deadlines. With their schedules as busy as they were, they barely had time for football, and sometimes went weeks without a game. They missed Sakib tremendously, along with how often they used to play. Tara and Niloy worked diligently on their university applications and would eventually both get accepted to universities in the USA. They were set to leave after the summer, leaving Fahim as the only person in the friend group who would still be living in Bangladesh.
As the summer came to an end and high school came to a close, it was time for Tara and Niloy to say their goodbyes and depart. Tears were shed at the airport, with promises being made to keep in touch and not allow distance to change their friendship. Deep down they had a nagging feeling that things would never be the same again, but none of them were very keen on admitting it.
***
It had been nearly six years since then. Once regular hangouts were replaced with sporadic visits during vacation. Their promises of keeping in touch had been severely tested, with the group chat often lying idle for months before someone sent a message in it. They were now grown up and so far removed from the boys that they once were. Niloy was a graphic designer and about to be married. Tara was between jobs. Fahim was a football coach at a local school and Sakib was a professional football player in the second league of English football. Life had taken them down such different paths, taking them away from a group of boys that played football every day to grown men with jobs and responsibilities. But they were now finally being brought together, and each one of them wondered if they could be like the boys they once were.
