Faking it
After a game of 7 a side with a colleague and his friends, I shared my plight with them as we walked from the ground. One of the group, Rahul, piped up that he worked for the one of the domestic leagues (the ISL) in Mumbai. My instant joy at the prospect of finally finding a shirt ended promptly, as he informed me you could only buy replica shirts from the stadium, on the day of a game. This further baffled me, and condemned me to defeat – the season was not due to start for another 4 months, and to hear it from the most official source I was likely to find felt final.
Despite the lack of official Puma merchandise (I’m a stickler for quality – only legitimate shirts make the cut), there were a few very obvious fakes floating around the internet. Most of them, due to my excessive Google searching of all keywords related to Mumbai City FC merchandise, lay haunting me at the side of every web page I visited.
Nicolas Anelka’s name and number even made the back of the fakest of fakes, and as my final few days in Mumbai came around, I caved to temptation. At a price of 340 Rupees (about £4), I felt it a necessary purchase to consolidate myself and my search. What it lacked in quality, it more than made up for in character and charm – shabby chique, perhaps. The wonkily sewn badge still shone out from the soon-fading silky blue fabric, with the gold trim precariously hanging onto the edges of the collar and sleeves.
This quest for an Indian football shirt did not go unnoticed by colleagues and friends. One suggested that whilst local football culture in Mumbai was only just emerging, in the state of Goa it was a thriving force. My friend was himself Goan in origin, and boasted a collection of over 10 FC Goa shirts of his own, one of which he kindly donated to me in the last week of my trip. As I held the beautiful blue and orange Adidas strip in my hands, I wondered how different Goan football culture was to that of Mumbai’s, and vowed to experience it for myself on my next trip.