Do we really care for these legends?

Those guys are so old, you can’t put your arms around a memory” — Guns N’Roses

Those not in tune with Indian football history can easily dismiss Samar ‘Badru’ Banerjee, MA Salam, Zulfikar, Nikhil Nandi, SS Narayan, Ahmed Hussain and PK Banerjee as senior citizens. But when the skipper of that legendary 1956 football team, Samar Banerjee, walked down the memory lane, you knew their ‘star’ status.

Seven players of the ‘Class of 56’, as they once famously were known as, were felicitated by the sports minister, and all those present were overwhelmed by the humility of these former stars. Gill hugged them and praised their achievements, wondering how these legendary players were consigned to the dustbin of faded memories. So, when a host of TV crews rushed to grab some quick bytes, they felt honoured.

For some in the establishment, it have been like any other official function. But for these greats, it meant a lot — finally, a recognition from the government. It was an opportunity for them to interact with a much younger generation of mediamen who follow the Beckhams and Rooneys.

But it was pity to see PK Banerjee, arguably the most popular and who till recently remained the most active member from that great team. Sadly, Pradipda, recently survived a cerebral attack and his right side has been crippled by paralysis. He smiled and said “Beta I can’t move my hand,” when a young journalist asked for an autograph.

The recognition has come after 50 years. But why? We don’t even know that. May be, the ex-officials in the Federation can explain better.
Late last year, Peter Thangaraj died. A month later, 1951 Asian Games hero Mewa Lal passed away. Sailen Manna is bedridden. Obituaries were already written on Jarnail Singh, Neville D’Souza, Aziz some years back. Even their father-figure coach (SA Rahim) had died almost forty years ago. Knowing that Rahim was key to India’s stupendous success, we didn’t bother to recognise his credentials. Under him, India reached the semifinals at Melbourne only to miss the bronze, going down to Bulgaria in the third-place play-off.

Understood, all these gentlemen played in an era which lacked media hype. But then, the Federation could have put in some effort to keep their memories alive. So when Badru read out a two-page obituary on his fellow teammates, we couldn’t help but picturise his team’s exploits in Melbourne. It must have been a great experience.

Public memory is too short. We forget things easily. What we do today, it’s a bit difficult to recollect them tomorrow. We are worried because we wonder if the future generation will ever remember these footballing heroes.