Feet Of Wisdom

The most successful manager in English football’s history. The never exhausted ol’ machine gun that just never runs out of ammo. The phenomenon. He is the living and ‘kicking’ legend. He is Sir Alex Ferguson, probably the most prestigious and honored name in the managerial fraternity of football. A man who has made winning a routine habit just like his habit of chewing gums during match time, a daily obsession, or rather ritual.

One of the special and primary attributes of the legend’s coaching has been his ability to identify and nurture extraordinary talents of the sport and then carving stars of the game out of them and making them a force to reckon with. He has been doing it for Manchester United and, he has been doing it for ages. And a nice point to ponder upon is that, often these derby horses that come out of his stable turn the richest in their trade (ask Beckham or Ronaldo, or to some extent Rooney).

But, the tables have turned a little in the last year or so. Since the departure of CR7 to the cash-rich Real Madrid and thus becoming CR9, the Manchester United roster seemed to be lacking that zing thing or the usually ever-existent superstar who takes the standard of the team to a whole different ‘out-of-the-league’ pedestal. Sir Alex had faced a similar kind of dilemma when former England captain and world’s richest footballer, Posh’s Beckham decided to leave the club to become a Galactico in the land of Madrid in the year 2003. At that point of time, he found the perfect or even better solution in the form of young Portuguese winger Cristiano Ronaldo Dos Santos Aveiro for £12.24 million (which proved to be a minimal cost as compared to his later selling price; £80 million), who during his stint with the club reached unprecedented heights and went on to became one of the footballing greats of the club, his generation, and a heartthrob of many a woman. Now, Sire Alex again, faces the same problem of filling the void.

The 2009-2010 season proved to be the season of ‘void’ for the Red Devils as the trophy cabinet could feel the burden of emptiness striking its season desk harder and harder and so could the ManU bench which felt the pain of the lack of a superstar who could support and complement Rooney in his talismanic superman efforts to single-handedly salvage some pride for the club which, by the end of the season, could not land either of the English Premier League or the UEFA Champions League, which is a poor performance considering the club’s rich history in these competitions. But when in charge of things is the legend called Sir Alex Ferguson, you just can’t help but stop being cynical of proceedings.

It’s time for the new season, new expectations and inevitably, new signings to liven things up, necessarily. This was the time for him to spend the funds accumulated by selling off the world’s richest player (a move that made him richer, in terms of the moolah). It was time Sir Alex proved it yet again to the world that he still has it in himself to nurture a footballing genius out of a sensational talent. The results of his efforts shall be evaluated only after the end of the season but speculations and front page headlines have taken form at the very imminent start.

With Dimitar Berbatov and Michael Owen, both not living up to the expectations and the millions spent on them, Sir Alex had to find answers and quickly, with time fast running out. Berbatov’s performance in his couple of seasons with United has been lackluster to be defined precisely. And Michael Owen has been closer to the first aid box rather than the goal post in his stint with United so far, surely kept the physios busy.

The potential answer now stands with 3 goals in as many appearances for England’s and the entire world’s arguably biggest club. Popularly known as ‘Chicharito’, he is Javier Hernandez, a man who is being already touted as the next big thing, as the new wonder kid on the block. Standing not so tall at 5ft 9inches, Hernandez has blistering pace and great control on and off the ball. A healthy statistic on his ability to burst lungs is that he was the fastest player in the 2010 FIFA World Cup, reaching a top speed of 32.5 km/h (now that is some pace). And to add to all this is his ‘quick-as-a-flash’ ability to find the back of the net, is what the ManU manager will take as a bonus.

Everyone will remember his two goals in this year’s World Cup; the first against France by springing the offside trap, latching onto a beautiful through pass from Rafael Marquez, sidestepping Hugo Lloris and then a cool side footer into the net. The second one, a straight down the middle scorcher against the Argentinians, leaving Andujar with an open mouth. Already being predicted as the best buy of the summer, only time shall say Hernandez will live up to the hype and pre-performance praise showered upon him or not.

The difference in situations with Javier Hernandez and his present mentor is that time is a relatively closer friend of the former, and quite an enemy of the latter.

The new season has just kicked off, speculations are still ripe, the noose of questions will only tighten as the league table starts shaping up, and it’s all about who can still breathe, and not choke. Can he do it one more time or probably for the last time? Will Old Trafford again submerge itself in the glorious red? Only time shall say.

I-DONT-KNOW-WHAT-IT-IS?

This is just another I-don’t-know-what-it-is. There is nothing special about it. And when I say this piece of

paper does not contain elements worthy to gain your attention, you raise your eyebrows with

your grip on that A4 size paper reshaping into a relatively strong clutch. Humans, you see,

we like to perceive the expected as the unexpected jolt, but of course, the one that doesn’t

harm us. A flash of the eye, a click of the fingers on your foot, and you say to yourself, as if

talking to your closest one, “Okay, let’s waste a quarter of an hour”.

So what is it, story of just another one of us, unlike all, like none, and that is the only

common element of his genetically human body, which he probably feels is reincarnated in

the logical form of a living entity. Call him what you want to, no holds barred, make yourself

feel good. They keep pissing you off, telling you all the time: Get into the character, feel

it. What a fool you are, don’t you get it, they are just making a mockery of the pissed off

character, and all the while, he keeps on his useless search of finding the one, who he

himself represents. Aah, now don’t multiply the lines on your forehead; you are not the

only one drenched and soaked wet in this never ending shower of puzzles which beckon

common sense as the sun to provide the silver lining on the clouds of uncertain certainties

or the other way round; this is what we do; we can’t keep it simple. See, I caught you again,

just when I mentioned we can’t keep it simple, you let out a sigh of frustrated failure; you feel

you can do nothing to alter its course. No, simplicity has not vanished into space through the

punched holes on the extinguishing Ozone layer. It’s just that we have lost it in our self-built

camouflage of complex high-rises and swirling highways; and in the not yet ready highway to hell.

Here he is, sitting on his chair that turns him into a workaholic the moment his rear is

embraced by the warmth of the cushion. I know, you know, but sadly, he doesn’t know

that the rolls on the chair aren’t getting him anywhere, leave alone what he desires his

destination to be, it’s his destiny’s desire that matters. But there is a good question I have in

store for you, what is his form in your free-flowing rhythms of imagination? Is he the one with

eyes glued to computer screen but is reprimanding himself for not visualising the destruction

beyond the window screen? Or is he the one who reaches out to you, but, you pull back

just when he might have made it? He might also be the one who’s a step away from the

chequered flag but has to meet other checkpoints too. And at times, he steps into the shoes

of the supremo who, when looks back on his trail of success realizes that he failed to hold

on to those billions of moments; which shall never come back to him, while striding to be a

millionaire. He is all that want you want him to be, he is all that he couldn't be.

Right from the time he took his first step to this date when he jumps three at a time, to be a step ahead of the rest, all that he has managed, is to get drifted off the track.

When he was still just another child in the primary school trying to grasp the usage of lines to encrypt the definition of geometry in that little piece of innocence placed on top of the human shelf, he missed out on realizing how beautiful these lines could be, if they were to dance to his rhythms. All his life he has been told to follow the ideals of a wall poster that read, "Walk the untrodden road, instead of racing down the beaten path". But today, he stands under the lights with the soothing drops of rain cooling his burned out soul under the fatigued flesh and bones, and questions to himself- Which actually was the untrodden road, rather the beaten path? He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again. He looks around himself pausing at every subject; who seems to be at haste and an unnaturally familiar hurry. They seem to be walking his walk, talking his talk. Everyone has a train to catch, everyone has a road to follow, and everyone has a destination to reach. They are all tail-less rats (certainly not tale-less, each one has plenty). He lets out a sigh of relief in the form of a grinding grin. Now he knows the universal fact: He is not alone.

As a child, he used to look at the skies and wonder how so many stars were able to live in such huge numbers in that single sky without any chaos, without the blaring of horns, without one screaming at a million others………now he has passed two stages of human growth, and still wonders the same.