The rise of the World Cup buzzkills

Every World Cup has its Grinches. Bangladesh simply gives them a bigger audience.

The Grinch, for the uninitiated, is Dr Seuss's famously green, joy-allergic dude who tried to steal Christmas simply because everyone else seemed to be enjoying it. Every tournament breeds a few sporting cousins.

Tap Here to Add The Daily Star As A Trusted Source

They drift through the tournament with the emotional weather of a commuter stranded at Farmgate in the rain, watching every bus except theirs crawl past. They scroll through Facebook with the thumb-speed of a man trying to outrun another Lionel Messi reel.

The World Cup has reached its final weekend. Argentina are back. Messi remains the axis around which football spins. And somewhere between Char Kukrimukri and Chhera Dwip, Dholaikhal and Shonir Akhra, another familiar migration is under way.

The Grinches are among us.

This is the fan who treated the group stage like a prophecy. Every misplaced Argentine pass became proof that the empire was crumbling, and every favourable refereeing decision became proof that the empire will not be allowed to crumble. Every opponent possessed the tactical blueprint, the psychological edge, the inevitable answer.

Then football, gloriously indifferent to certainty, wandered off in its own direction.

What followed was one of sport's oldest rituals: the slow, ceremonial serving of humble pie. It is consumed in careful moderation, though.

"Messi has been... excellent."

"You have to admire the longevity."

"One of the greatest, without question."

Each sentence lands with the enthusiasm of someone paying the bKash Cash Out charge.

Then comes the second course.

The World Cup has apparently become rigged, not like how it was in the Jurassic era. Club football is superior. Bangladesh’s tour of Zimbabwe and cricket, in general, suddenly offers greater emotional fulfilment and zero-point-zero-zero controversy.

Read more

The incredible grace of Infantiny

Bangladesh has always celebrated the World Cup as if it were hosted here. Rooftops sprout flags larger than this writer’s dreams. Battery-powered rickshaws become blurry murals. Tea stalls transform into symposiums. The neighbourhood electrician develops strong opinions on the Dehydration Break. A grocery queue can dissolve into a debate about offside law interpretations before anyone remembers they came to buy buttered buns.

And moving through all this colour walks the Grinch, as if wearing black on Pahela Baishakh, carrying the atmosphere of a midnight power cut -- or even worse, a broadcast buffer at the stroke of ‘Scaloni time’.

Following an indefinite period from Monday, Bangladesh will once again concern itself with what Bangladesh usually concerns itself with, like keeping both the darkness and progress at bay. The Grinches will emerge blinking into ordinary life, moving on from binge-watching post-midnight matches, ready to explain that they never cared all that much anyway.

Every carnival needs someone standing just outside the arena, arms folded, insisting the music isn't really that good.

And wise men say there is a little Grinch lurking inside all of us.