Not enough footballs — Hidden Football

Having just watched my first game of Indian football, Mumbai Strikers 2 – 0 Central Bank of India, I strolled down to the side of the pitch to speak with Rohit, the Founder of Mumbai Strikers. On my quest to find out more about the story behind football in India, I’d sent a speculative email to the Mumbai Strikers and Rohit was kind enough to spare his time to speak with me. He founded the team over 20 years ago, and has been a dedicated ambassador for the growth of football culture throughout the city and nation.

Coincidentally, as I approached Rohit he was mid-conversation with a man who was promptly introduced to me as Mangesh Desai – ‘the man responsible for the growth and development of the grassroots game across the state of Maharashtra’. What are the chances, I thought, that I’d meet two people with such experience and passion for the growth of Indian football culture within my first few days exploring it. I could only ponder the lengths I’d have had to go to to meet with a club founder and FA representative in England to hold a similar discussion.

After briefly explaining my curiosity for the game in India, Rohit swiftly launched into a vivid assessment of the status quo in Indian and Maharahstran (the state Mumbai is in) football. I learnt that there are over 120 million people in the state, with hundreds and thousands of teams, leagues and players organised into various levels and layers. That’s nearly twice the population of the United Kingdom, fitting into just one of India’s twenty nine states. Straight away, the huge potential for football to grow in India was apparent based on the sheer numbers of people (Maharahstra’s 120 million is only 9% of India’s 1.3 billion population).

We discussed the stark differences between India’s metropolitan cities and its rural communities, assessing whether football was more likely to catch on in any particular area. ‘Football is becoming the sport of urban India’, remarked Rohit, ‘but it’s not always been this way’.

Mumbai’s reputation as an international city of commerce, employment and the place to chase ‘the Indian Dream’ (a take on the American model), have continually defined it in a context of work, trade and capitalism. Tied with big money industries and aspirations of a better life, the focus for so many layers of society in Mumbai is chasing this dream, a dream in which traditionally football does not play any part.

‘Bombay is 70% immigrants’, Rohit explained, ‘and is traditionally a stepping stone for the Western world and the appeal of big money’.

‘Even after 20 years running this team, in one of the most populous cities on the planet, we’re still struggling to really engage with a wide audience here’

Mumbai or Manhattan? A shot of one of the city’s many corporate districts.

At the higher tiers the same problems are inherent, with the recently formed Mumbai City FC being ‘the poorest attended of the ISL teams’.

‘They’re giving tickets away and still people don’t go’.

It was becoming clear that due to the sport’s emerging status, and a lack of infrastructure for a player to ‘make it’ (or fans to watch it), football has often played second fiddle to the jobs, industries and past-times of higher status and importance in Mumbai in particular.

Other Indian cities and states have taken to the sport more prominently, in areas where ‘football means more to people, based on a shared and meaningful history’. Calcutta is home to a thriving football culture, with the historic debut victory of Mohun Bagan (one of India’s most celebrated teams) over the English armed forces team in 1911 cited as a turning point for the city and its relationship with the game. Furthermore, it was symbolic in India’s evolving relationship with the British Empire, ending 40+ years of British teams winning Indian football tournaments and paving the way for the future.

‘Calcutta and Mohun Bagan have that whole “pre independence thing”’, said Rohit, (an interesting soundbite), claiming that ‘football was more than just football at that time’. As a result, the sport has embedded itself into Calcutta folklore and identity. However, this is a rarity for Indian states and cities, with the majority following the trends seen in Mumbai.

The historic Mohun Bagan victory over the English armed forces team.

I instantly made the comparison with cricket, wondering how another sport (arguably more complicated and less accessible than football), had managed to transcend the layers of Indian society to become the powerhouse it is today. This was clearly a familiar question to Rohit and Mangesh, who simultaneously smiled and sighed before launching into their responses.

‘Cricket is a complicated and expensive sport, but rich and poor people all over India play it instinctively’, Rohit explained, entering into an account of how cricket has established itself so prominently around the country.

‘People don’t even know the rules sometimes – but it’s just about bat on ball, a simple version of the game that has caught on everywhere’

Both Rohit and Mangesh spoke of cricket’s progress over the past 50 years, at both the professional and grassroots levels. The growth in the success of the Indian national team (in particular a victory in the World Cup of 1983), was seen as a generation defining event, showing Indians that they could compete and win at the highest level.

Symbolic moment as India’s captain Kapil Dev accepts the 1983 World Cup at Lords.

Meanwhile, at the grassroots level cricket continued to receive funding, infrastructure and promotion – as increasing numbers of Indians at all levels were given chances to play and watch the game. Roll forward 30 years to the birth of the IPL and India’s role in forging the future of the sport through the 20-over format, and we’re seeing the result of half a century of the development of talent, fan culture and ultimately a world leading industry.

Drawing comparisons again between the timelines and statuses of the two sports, Rohit cited some of the contradictions in their respective fates.

‘People often say that there’s “not enough space” for football in India’s cities. But if that’s the case, how did cricket manage it?’

I proceeded to speak about ‘infrastructure’ for sport – discussing the benefits of facilities, league structures, corporate sponsorship, talent development, and a whole host of other jargon-ridden phrases I regurgitated from a lifetime of reading BBC Sport articles about the English FA’s work.

Infrastructure? England’s St George’s Park – state of the art national training campus.

Cutting me off mid-flow, Mangesh framed the challenge facing Indian football in the simplest of terms.

‘That’s all well and good, James, but we’re a way off all that just now’, he said.

‘The main problem for us right now – there are simply not enough footballs in India’.

‘You might think cricket suffered from the same issue, but you’d be amazed at how many makeshift games I’ve seen played with a piece of wood and rubber ball’

The simplicity of this striking soundbite stayed with me for weeks. Despite football being played in India for over 100 years, the twists of fate and investment have left a clear hole at the ‘bottom of the ladder’ – so many people are denied access to simply playing and understanding the game.

How can India encourage more of its population to play and watch the sport?

Suddenly the European narrative of chosen playing styles, numbers of qualified coaches and investment strategies paled into insignificance. Could Indian football even begin to consider these infrastructural growth plans before addressing the lack of balls to play with?

As the conversation came to an end, I still had hundreds of curiosities and open questions. This felt like the opening of a can of worms, and an experienced diagnosis of the challenges and hurdles facing the nation’s sport at individual, regional and national levels. I was blown away by the level of passion and knowledge of both Rohit and Mangesh, and inspired to dig deeper into their take on the proposed solutions and next steps for the game.

Harbouring these future queries as I walked back to the station, a 6 was hit from a nearby schoolboy cricket match, cracking into a windscreen and causing honking chaos on the Colaba street. I couldn’t help but consider again the compatibility of sports and Indian cities, and further weigh up the challenges football will face to reclaim territory – both physical and mental – from the nation as it evolves and grows.