LIVE

I'd like to offer you a ride commencing bang in between the Mariana Trench, going all the way up; kissing the tip of Olympus Mons and drifting along somewhere in between. Prepare your mind, train your heart, and brace yourself to surrender and be in communion with hooligans in a madhouse. Wherever you came from, wherever you are going pales in comparison to the call of duty. When in Rome...

When at The Fortress, become a warrior.

Eleven of the finest among well over a billion exit the tunnel, walk across the pitch and line up beneath the judge's bench. The tifo unfurls to the tune of the first stanza from Tagore's Bharoto Bhagyo Bidhata, and a tear rolls down from the eye of a diminutive giant of the modern game. West Block A means the world to him.

Day or night, rain or shine, on a Wednesday evening during quarter close; we are there. The team needs us and we are bound by an unwritten contract, one that a certain someone had imposed upon us when he pleaded with folded hands for us to COME! Innumerable times have we heard them say, "We do it for the fans. It's all for them." The Twelfth Man is the heart and soul of the eleven on the pitch. The energy from the stands gets transmitted into their legs and is manifested through that last ditch challenge at crunch time or that header from a corner after having risen three feet and shrugged off their man-marker. It takes character to never back down. If a fullback gets into a tussle, I want the keeper, the center forward and the winger to show up and assert our intent. The strength of the wolf is the pack. It's a dogfight out there, and we shall defend the crest on our hearts until it's all said and done.

We live for that brief second of joy, it makes ninety minutes feel like millennia. And if we're past regulation time the anxiety is through the roof. The bloody timer shuts off. The faithful await with bated breath, peering under leaking roofs and in between smelly armpits for our boys to get the ball across the line. Gurpreet to Anwar to Poojary to Rohit to Sahal who releases Udanta, the shot brushes the side netting and WBA erupts momentarily. Corner to India: Chhetri to take, Gurpreet is in the box, in swinging delivery, Jhingan rises, it comes off the crossbar and Chhangte slots it into the back of the net. Relief accompanied by jubilation, the roar is unlike any other, no drug can come even remotely close to replicating this sensory overload. A few seconds later, the chequered flag is raised and tens of thousands drop to their knees; crestfallen. A funeral is louder. Get up, stand up, it's not over, it never is. A six-year-old girl yells with all her might, "I-N-D-I-A-A-A INDIA", it gains traction, a hundred join in, a thousand, ten thousand, every soul in unison chimes in. Chhetri looks up to the heavens. What a scene!