You're suddenly in a truck! Are you training somewhere? "
"Yes, I have a responsibility. I don't know what to do...
He tries to avoid the matter.
"Very good... It will definitely be fun. But let me know. "
Nandita is very excited.
- Yes, of course. Okay, now there's a lot of work. "
Tapanbabu pushed the matter away from there. With no penchant for heartache, the thought of how to deal with a tough Bahraini team swallowed him whole. Now there is no time to sit under the gloomy shadow of a cloudy day. However, the moment when a young man's confidently hesitant proposal is turned down by a monotonous stern rebuff still sometimes flows haphazardly like the breeze of a cloudy day.
The next morning, Tapanbabu put fifteen boys to practice. Except for Bichke, the remaining fourteen played the match divided into two teams. Both teams didn't play well. But Tapan Dutta was worried about their striking ability. The boys lost in the attack. Tapanjyoti thought that Amit Majhi was the only hope. Tapanbabu was referring to. He was telling the defenders not to make hard tackles, not to hurt anyone. That's why he's sitting there. The game was over in half-an-hour. Suddenly he raised his eyes and saw Siddhartha standing in the market bag near the field. He lifted his hand and looked at her. He was walking towards her. Siddharth waved his hand and said in a gesture
"We'll talk later. You continue. "
The game started at 4: 30 on Saturday. The health and height of the boys in Bahrain put a worry on Tapanjyoti's forehead. He, however, administered a heavy dose of vocal tonic to the boys for about an hour yesterday. He did not say anything about the honour of the country, the nation or the club. No one is inspired by those words anymore. He has painted before the poor boys many attractive dreams of the future, their personal lives. They have tried to drive it into their heads that breaking this ladder ahead is the most important thing to turn their lives around. The amount of work that had been done could be felt in their eyes. Fearless determination is enveloped in body language. Tapanjyoti's team Yellow Diamond scored two goals within the first twenty minutes of the game. With just body strength, the striker of their number 9 jersey pushed two defenders of Tapan's team on both sides and went out with the ball in the middle. There was only the goalkeeper in front. He had no problem. The second goal came from the set-piece. A perfect-sized inswing, a wonderful flick from the first post of the corner kick to the head scored one of their medios, just taking advantage of the height. The boy was five-years-old. The desert began to smoke in Tapanjyoti's chest. I suddenly remembered the face of my mother who died 20 years ago. She wanted to cry out of her heart. Tapanjyoti nodded. This is the last stage of a life of failure. After that, you have to leave the track completely. There's no competition. There's just a huge gap. But people don't want to die. Anyway, try to survive.
I remember Nandita's face from 40 years ago. There was no cloud cover. His words were like the cactus of the desert. The memory of that cruel fire must have been the spark of four hundred and forty volts that ignited the cells of Tapan Dutta's head. He got up from the dugout and stood on the side of the sideline. Usually, coaches get bogged down by the fear of a humiliating defeat by conceding more goals during this period. In the defense, nine players were brought down to become ultra-defensive. But who let Tapan Dutta down by whipping him from inside in a completely opposite and dangerous way. He didn't want to die. There was a throw-in. At that time, the system was changed from four-four-two to four-four. That is, he increased two more forwards with Bichak to a total of four forwards. Both boys are baseball players. Tapan wanted to hypnotize the opponent in the fork of the ball playing. Do or die... He called Bichke to the ground and asked him to play as a roaming forward. As Yellow Diamond's attacks increased, the storm of Bahrain's attacks naturally slowed down. Because they had to increase their defense. Their Spanish coach looks very confused. He is thinking deeply about what to decide on the field. The game is now thirty-five minutes. No more goals.
Suddenly there was commotion in the room. He suddenly showed a two-and-a-half-minute delay between left and right. Got a loose ball near the halfway line. The other two jumped in to save their bodies. Mithun Das is standing on the left. A complete left-handed player. After covering the beach for about twenty yards at a stormy pace, the right stopper found no way to make the final tackle. Because if you cross him on the beach, the mouth of the goal will open. He didn't take any more risks. He threw the ball to Mithun, who was standing on the left flank. He got a great ball. Empty space in front. The right-back is running to close him down. Perhaps as a result of Tapan Datta's vocal tonic, an invisible spirit has begun to trickle down into the boys' blood. Like Mithun Spring, once outside, once inside, threw the right-back aside, hurriedly took the ball out and ran into the box. Life and death are standing in the penalty box one by one, clutching five yellow clothes of yellow diamonds. Eight men from Bahrain came down to deal with them. At this time, Mithun made a big blunder. The goalkeeper stood in front of the first post. Mithun took the position of crossing to the left and did not cross the left foot and placed it on the goal line left to the goalkeeper before anyone could understand. Bahrain's middle-aged burnt-out sahib is standing on the sideline, staring in amazement as he tucks his hands into two pockets of coach pants. Tapanjyoti stood in front of the dog out and started clapping. Coming down to the field in the evening. The wind is blowing from the Ganges. Time is running out. Floodlights have been installed at the venue for the tournament. It was burnt. Tapan Datta's ten sons got up together and died. Maybe they are fighting for their own survival. But the fight continues by igniting fire in the particles of blood. No more goals in the first half. During the break, Tapanjyoti again fed the boys a lot of vocal tonic with cold drinks. The strait was as straight as water. He repeatedly said that they should not get the advantage of physical strength. They don't have any skills. They have to be countered with numerical supremacy. Wherever one of them catches the ball, all three have to go for blocks and tackles. But don't be fooled by the status quo. They don't have that number in the box. It will be difficult if he does not cut the supply line. Tabu said:
"Play the way you attack the ball on the ground. They're too high... Don't bowl too much. If the ball is held, there should be someone in the close to receive the pass. They don't get a second chance. Try to play in a fast-paced style. "
The boys listened intently to the coach. He suddenly said,
"Look at the dance... "
Tapanjyoti was startled and looked at the bichak's face and saw the glint of electricity in both of his eyes. A thunderous clap of thunder began to resound in Tapan Dutta's chest. The rain began to pour down in torrents across the sky.
(To be continued...)
