AFC Cup: A Bengaluru FC Fan Writes About the Romance of his Club

For all the machismo ascribed to it, football, at its heart, is a sport for the romantic. This is why, for example, statistics will never explain why a player is a fan favourite. Chants, rituals, even legends are born out of events those on the outside often find inexplicable. As fans of Bengaluru FC, we are no different. We get attached to the strangest of things. Sample this, one of the best-known brewpubs in the city is the official ‘home pub’ for BFC but the only time you’ll see any of us there is when there is a match screening. Our watering hole of choice for pre-match and post-match rounds is the seedy Tirumala Bar. So much so that the Tirumala Blues are now emerging as a subculture within the more celebrated West Block Blues fan club.

The reason why I am telling you this is so that you may understand our connection with the stadium that we now call our home. When BFC moved to the Sree Kanteerava Stadium at the start of the 2015-16 season, we mourned petulantly. Loyalists that we were, we protested against the move away from the Bangalore Football Stadium. For context, BFC was formed in 2014 and we had played a sum total of one season at the BFS. But that’s just us being us. What we didn’t know at that time was that the move would spawn the romance of “the Fortress”; We did not know then, that the Kanteerava would become the stage for some of the most magical footballing nights of our lives.

We have made memories at the Fortress that we will take to our graves–Zuala’s screamer against East Bengal; Daniel’s 82nd minute winner against Mumbai FC that helped break a hoodoo against Khalid Jamil; the heartbreak of losing the title to Mohun Bagan on the last day of the season, followed by the absolutely magical come-from-behind victory against Johor Darul Ta’zim in the AFC Cup semifinals. All underlined by some Sunil Chhetri magic.

So when we, the fans, found ourselves in the AFC Cup semifinal for the second successive year, we had a sense of overwhelming anticipation. We trailed FC Istiklol by a goal. We needed two to overturn the deficit and keep a clean sheet. In the away leg, we deserved parity but for a refereeing decision that robbed us of a clearcut penalty. Even so, we believed that we could beat them and go through to a second final in two seasons. In fact, our chant of the evening was precisely that--“We Can Do This”. The football gods had other ideas. Our home game picked up from where the away game had left off, and not in a good way. In the fourth minute, we found out that the outcome of this game would be decided by neither of the teams that were playing. The ask at that point? Score three or perish.

We are often told that other clubs get more bums on the seats while we end up with half-filled stands. That said, come to the west block and you’ll see that it is never about the numbers in the fight, it’s about the fight in the numbers. We are often at our loudest when we are trailing. This game was no exception. The 7,800 or so people in the stands weren’t going to be silenced. On the pitch, our players attacked relentlessly. Dimas (Delgado) and Daniel (Lahlimpuia) both got chances. Istiklol was going to break, we knew it. In the stands, our chants hit a crescendo as we found our response through Rahul Bheke, who is gradually convincing us that Rino Anto’s boots aren’t that big to fill after all. 1-2 on aggregate in the 24th minute. We were beginning to believe that this would be another one of those fairytales, custom-written for The Kanteerava Nights series.

Enter Khabra. Or should I say, exit Khabra? Not quite content with wrestling a player to the ground, he earned himself a well-deserved second yellow by bringing down Manuchher in the 42nd minute. ‘Abracadabra, Harmanjot Khabra’. Sure, he vanished right into the dressing room.

Meanwhile, Dmitrii Barkov was having none of this fairytale business either. When he scored in the 56th minute, Juanan was convinced it was an offside, we were convinced it was an offside, but the linesman was sure about what he saw. I haven’t seen the video replay but I’m told it did look like a legitimate goal. By then, the damage had already been done. We now needed to score three more. What’s worse, battling football gave way to Tajik theatre on the pitch. The Istiklol players were going down like nine pins at the slightest turn of the gentle Bangalore breeze.

The more wronged we felt, the more adamant we became in trying to win this. It was hard to tell that there were 10 against 11 on the pitch. We were battling, attacking, putting them under pressure while their tactical masterstroke was grimacing and clutching their hamstrings. The referee must have a heart. Maybe that’s why he finally called a penalty in our favour in the 65th minute as the hardworking Daniel was brought down in the box. That was to be the first and only stroke of luck that we got over two legs. Chhetri stepped up and what happened next surprised absolutely nobody. The score now read 2-2 on the night and 2-3 on aggregate. We needed two more. We continued going for it. In the stands, we kept the spirits high. Till the whistle blew, well after the whistle blew.

It just wasn’t to be. Football gives you one of those moments from time to time. Gurpreet (Singh Sandhu) looked distraught, Udanta (Singh) was inconsolable, the skipper was just about putting on a brave face. All losses hurt but this one hurt more because there was nothing else the team could have done. They had spent the last reserves of their energy on the pitch, only to be denied by factors beyond their control.

The fabled magic of The Kanteerava would have to wait for another day. This night would be about ‘what ifs’ and fine margins. This night would be about heartbreak. But that’s the thing about romance. Without heartbreak, it’s only half-lived.

Disclaimer: The views expressed here are the author's personal views, and do not necessarily represent the views of Newsclick.