'Football is just Football'

My first impressions of Indian football culture were all experienced through the city of Mumbai. Despite the growing interest and clear passion for the game there, so often it is overtaken or forgotten, whether thanks to cricket, or any number of other economic, geographic or social factors.

When I enquired about football throughout the rest of India, three key states were mentioned: Kerala, Bengal and Goa. Friends described to me scenes of colour and chaos on game days, packed out stadiums and thriving grassroots cultures, and it seemed a necessity to go and witness some of this for myself.

I was lucky enough to have the chance to visit Goa, (the next state to the south from Mumbai’s state, Maharashtra), which was the most frequently mentioned of the three ‘football states’ of India. Away from football, Goa is well known for its beautiful beaches and relaxed pace of life.

Having long been a safe haven for Goans and indeed Indians nationwide to stay, holiday and retire, in recent years it has also become an increasingly popular tourist destination. Historically, it was a Portuguese colony, the famous Vasco da Gama settling here (the Portuguese eventually left Goa a few years after the last British Viceroy left India). Goan culture consists of a fusion of European and Indian influences, potentially explaining why football is so popular here.

A schoolboy game in Loutolim, South Goa, ends in a penalty shoot out.

I was already aware of their ISL team, FC Goa, thanks to a friend donating me one of their classic blue and orange jerseys. I’d also heard that a few big stars had played for FC Goa in years gone by, but that was the extent of my football context before arrival. I was curious to discover how, just a few hundred kilometres south of Mumbai, the sport could have such a stronger presence and importance here.

Within a day or two of arrival, the rumours were clearly true. The blue and orange of FC Goa was everywhere, with flags, bumper stickers and giant signs bearing the horned Goan logo visible at every turn. Força Goa, the club’s motto and battlecry, could be read hundreds of times a day as I travelled around, a statement of pride and support for the club as well as a sign of the Portuguese influence on the development of the game and wider culture here. Força means ‘Come on’ in Portuguese, and was an interesting comparison to Forza India’s Italian-inspired academy name from my recent visit.

The sheer amount of local jerseys I saw was astounding, a nice change from the high ratios of European shirts I was used to in Mumbai. It reminded me instantly of British or European towns and cities, or indeed anywhere in England when the World Cup is taking place, where it’s impossible to ignore the visible impact football has on its surroundings.

Driving around the state, games of football were visible in all shapes and sizes. From full 11 a side pitches with posts, flags and lines, down to tiny makeshift grounds with bamboo goalframes and white lines drawn on walls, Goa’s love of football was evident from the landscape and environment alone. This was perfectly illustrated by the amount of beach football I came across, games of varying seriousness taking place on the sand of every coastline visited.

Judging by my growing shirt collection, it seems Goan football passion is infectious.

Staying for a few days on Ozran beach in North Goa, I was lucky enough to make friends with Pankuj - a local boy who was working during the season at one of the ‘shacks’ near the sea, a regular spot for a sunset beer. We got chatting every day, discussing cultural differences, Goan traditions and top tips, and as always, the nature of football in India.

Pankuj’s conversational English skills allowed us to converse, and I was always conscious of how useless I felt knowing so little of the local languages. Languages (plural) of which India has hundreds, local dialects and mother tongues changing from state to state and city to city. Pankuj taught me that the native Goan language was called ‘Konkani’, which at a basic level seemed like a blend of Hindi and Portuguese (for obvious reasons).

The name is derived from the section of coastal land on which Goa (and indeed Maharashtra and Karanataka) sits, ‘the Konkan’, and although Hindi is spoken around Goa (as the national language), the majority of locals regularly communicate in Konkani.

During the heat of the day, hiding under an umbrella on the beach for an inch of shade, I would find myself often speaking with locals who wandered the coastline, offering refreshments or local trinkets to the sun bathers. Despite the occasional purchase, after a while the process of politely declining them was proving tiresome.

The beach in question - Ozran, South Goa.

Pankuj, clearly observing this from the shack, joined me on the lounger and offered me some basic lessons in Konkani. He assured me a few local phrases would be a great way to bond with the locals (and allow myself a touch more peace and quiet), so we sat in the shade and began.

At first Pankuj shared ‘useful phrases’ for my time on the beach, giving me the tools to have more productive conversations with my fleeting acquaintances.


‘When the ladies approach you with jewellery or drinks, just tell them, Ma kar naka’ said Pankuj, which means simply ‘I don’t want’, in Konkani. My British and overly-polite disposition led me to ask for a ‘softer’ phrase, but he assured me this was the right tone, and would do the trick. Sure enough, within minutes we were approached, and my mispronounced Konkani went down a treat, warranting a small smile and friendly wave as the lady wandered on down the beach.

‘And if that doesn’t work’, said Pankuj, try Madeshin porshey na’, which means ‘I have no money’. Once I was well equipped to fend off overzealous vendors, we moved onto more conversational Konkani (summarised for you below)

The Konkani section of my ever-growing Indian dictionary.

‘Tu je now kide’ - What is your name?

‘Maje now James’ - My name is James

‘Coso asa tu?’ - How are you?

‘Bore asa’ - I'm good

‘Kide corta tu?’ - What are you doing?

‘Dis borro assu’ - Have a good day

Considering scenarios in which I would often find myself (in this instance, at least three times a day), I asked to learn the phrase for ‘tasty’, so I could at least thank waiters or chefs when eating out. ‘Yea jaund borey asa’, said Pankuj, ‘which means this meal is good’. He also taught me of the local Goan delicacy drink, ‘Hurrack’ (which it took me about 10 attempts to pronounce even half correctly). This is the juice of the cashew fruit (it was news to me that cashews even grew with a fruit), mixed with a squeeze of lime, Limka (a lemon soft drink), sliced and juiced chilli, salt and slices of lemon and mango, and I was encouraged to ask for it in any local bar.

As I racked my brains for what I wanted to learn next, it dawned on me that I was here to search for football, so some phrases related to playing and watching the game would be a good addition to my dictionary. Having seen so many games of beach football in recent days, I thought it would be useful to be able to ask to join in when I next encountered one.

‘Macca chiorpa zie’, Pankuj offered, ‘which means just, I want to play’. I was again keen to add a touch of politeness to the saying, so he suggested ‘Macca kheow pa miao de ley pawa’, which translates to ‘can I play with you brother?’, delivered with a slightly friendlier tone.

When meeting new people anywhere in the world, an easy conversation starter is always football, particularly what team a new acquaintance might support, or indeed who their favourite player might be…

‘Tu support cortai FC Goa?’ - Do you support FC Goa?

‘Tu zor favourite player corn?’ - Who’s your favourite player?

Beach football with Pankuj (wearing the dashing Forza India jersey).

As we continued to swap phrases, Pankuj would consider his responses carefully, always trying to find the most appropriate way that a Goan football fan would speak, rather than just literally translating my strange requests word for word (which would inevitably fall on deaf ears when attempted in reality). We always found a middle ground or substitute phrase, with his half decent English and my appalling Konkani pronunciation somehow functioning as a makeshift translation service.

It dawned on me that despite having learnt so many phrases related to the sport, I’d not yet asked for the literal translation of its actual name. ‘So’, I asked, ‘well, what about football, as in the word itself, football? How do you say that in Konkani?’ Sitting to think for a moment, Pankuj smiled and simply said ‘No point, football is just football’.

As he spoke, a customer on a nearby sun bed (clearly intrigued by our beach lesson but increasingly impatient for her bill), called out to Pankuj, who darted from our table back to the shack. The simplicity of his response, and indeed the translation, stayed with me as our class for the day concluded.

Despite my desire to understand ‘the word for football’ in multiple languages as this journey continued, it dawned on me that the global nature of the game means this is just unnecessary. The word has a meaning and resonance far beyond its status as a sport, and it seems is able to defy linguistic and cultural barriers. This is the same status we often give to the sport as a whole on the global stage, with football’s simple rules, universal appeal and growing global fan base making it one of the few internationally shared and recognised past times, regardless of culture.

As I left the beach that day, full of useful Konkani phrases vaguely in my brain, Pankuj’s wise words served as inspiration to continue learning the eccentricities of the sport’s culture around the world, confident that regardless of how little of the local language I might know, ‘football’ will always just about make sense.  

As for Goa, it is clear that football runs through the veins of the state, and it’s passion for the game has been both inspiring and humbling at every turn. In partnership with Copa 90, we are in the process of making a film about fan culture around the state, featuring interviews with the fans, grassroots games and the buzzing atmosphere at FC Goa matches. Stay tuned for release in the coming weeks.

Sunset football at Varca beach, South Goa.

‘Football in Paradise’ - a regular sight around Goa, with football and Catholicism the two most recognisable symbols around the state.