So Much Happened At The Fortress That Was Special On Thursday Night. Where Do We Even Begin?

Don’t cry ‘wolf’, shepherd boy. Save your frightened song, for when there is something really wrong

It’s a good thing Aesop isn’t around. We’d have a tough time convincing the Greek savant that we really saw the wolf lurk. Okay, it was just a glint in the eye once and a wave of the paw another time, but we did see it and that’s why we called it. No blasphemy. Fortunately, in our fable, the young boy is vindicated but there are no tears. The sheep that got eaten belonged to someone else.

Carles Cuadrat’s chats with the members of the fourth estate are honest and eloquent, and few could have answered queries about Miku’s visible lack of sharpness in front of goal, like the way he did. The striker had two starts and a thirty-minute cameo since his ankle ballooned up on matchday morning in Goa, in November. The Venezuelan walked out of the team hotel in crutches and they stayed on as companions he didn’t want, for close to two months.

“Miku is in the middle of another pre-season,” Cuadrat would say, in a bid to explain how far behind the injury had set his talisman back by, but how he’s been getting sharper every day. No extolling his virtues of the past in a bid to defend his shortcomings of the present.

There was a hit that fizzed inches wide of the post in Chennai and then one that was scuffed from close, in Delhi. But what everyone wrote off as rust, Cuadrat perceived as a gradual but encouraging return of the striker’s sense of smell.

The turf at the Fortress, meanwhile, was flirting with the blades before Sergio Lobera’s rampant FC Goa side would set foot on it. No one had started 2019 like the Gaurs. A five-game unbeaten run without conceding a goal was what they had traveled to Bengaluru on the back of. Cuadrat’s men, meanwhile, had picked four points from a possible 15, since January. If form guides were Bibles, then this was a mismatch somewhere in Matthew, Mark and Luke.

To understand the kind of odds stacked against Bengaluru, all it needed was a glance at the players’ enclosure. Sunil Chhetri was faking comfort, sitting on a chair with Erik Paartalu and Albert Serran for company. A ‘slight muscle problem’ is what Carles Cuadrat called it.

Afforded space and time, Ahmed Jahouh took a shot from distance with just four minutes on the clock. Gurpreet Singh Sandhu was equal to it, and while most thought the upright had saved Bengaluru, it was actually the final inches of a guardian who took flight with his 6’6 frame. Goa had sealed qualification to the play-off stages before they arrived in Bengaluru, yet Lobera named an unchanged eleven. He wanted to finish the League as leaders, and a somewhat crippled Bengaluru somehow, stood in his way.

We’ll be straightforward about this; the media tribune on Thursday night played the role of an orbuculum. But before good fortune could be foretold, it was quite the opposite that was prophesized.

Nishu Kumar, playing at left-back, had the daunting task of keeping up with the pace of Jackichand Singh. And while the youngster in Blue did everything in his power for the best part of half an hour, a tug at the Goa man’s shirt had earned him a caution. ‘He’s going to get sent off’, we heard in the tribune, and it didn’t take long. However, what would have made the dismissal bearable would have been a meaty tackle. Instead, referee Pranjal Banerjee didn’t really fancy the Bengaluru defender’s visibly clean triumph in an aerial duel and sent him to the showers sooner than he would have liked. And you thought the odds couldn’t get worse.

Down a man with 45 minutes to play, against a team that had outscored every other for two seasons on the bounce and were yet to concede in the calendar year, ‘mammoth’ was an understatement to describe the task the Blues had at hand.

Gurpreet led his troops back out of the tunnel, followed by Rino Anto and Rahul Bheke. The defenders exchanged notes, pausing only to murmur a small prayer before stepping onto the turf; they wouldn’t dare forget that bit with what was to come. The Blues had stuttered on the road, but the Fortress had been flawless, and any divine intervention would be welcome.

The plan was simple; two lines of four, Harmanjot Khabra filling in the void at the back, while Miku remained the target. ‘Anywhere will do’ is a phrase oft repeated when the pressure is piled, but the Blues refused to capitulate. For Cuadrat’s men, anywhere was the back of the net they’d guarded for 45 minutes.

In sitting down for his interview for the BLUEPRINT – the club’s official matchday programme, Juanan Gonzalez told us that if his team ever needed aggression, he’d bring it. You could hear the Spaniard in the North Stand on Thursday. Commanding his backline and organizing defensive positions, his voice brought the Blues together and his left foot lifted them up.

It’s a game of inches, and we’ll never know the advantage Dimas gave Xisco by rolling the ball a yard or two ahead from the set-piece, but the latter’s cross was floated in for Miku to flick behind. Juanan caressed all 32 panels down before volleying an effort as sweet as the man that hides behind the muscle. The net shook as he raced to the West Block in celebration, while the conspirators of the set-piece chose the dugout for a huddle. In a moment that was missed by many, Kean Lewis and Boithang Haokip thumped chest to chest behind the goalposts. Delirium overtook everything in that moment.

One-nil up and one man down, the Blues had a lead they could protect. But when have they ever been about the conventional? When a bus could have been parked, Cuadrat’s men chose to roll out the Bugatti instead. Miku pranced down the lush green like a gazelle as his companions in midfield slapped every pass forward, sensing his intentions.

It began from the back once again. Juanan stepped in for a tackle, setting Miku free on the counter. Holding off his marker, the No. 7 lifted it over one defender before playing it to Dimas, who made the show his own. We’d seen it all before, but never once like this.

Armband strapped tight, the Spaniard swung his boot left and sent the ball right, spinning in its trajectory as if destined to find its intended target. It was perfectly weighted, immaculately delivered and all along, graceful. They don’t call him el mago for making a coin disappear.

But like most magic tricks, it was a swift move at the end that had deceived. Udanta turned on the turbos and raced forward, taking just one touch before sending a rasping shot goalward, one that Naveen Kumar would have struggled to save had it packed just half the venom it did. One man down, two goals up.

We’d seen enough to struggle with The Afterthought already, but being the trouble-maker he is, Miku decided to get in on the act, and we were partly to blame. ‘Miku needs a goal and needs one badly,’ came the voice from the media tribune once more. We were being hopeful, but the striker paid heed. Lenny Rodrigues knew a thing or two about marking him, but no midfielder in his element would’ve stopped the striker from slipping away the way he did.

We’d taken our eyes off the game for just one moment, as had live television, and in that very second, he turned. Taking a shove in his stride, Miku didn’t hesitate in sending home a banger from 30 yards out. He back peddled as he watched the ball dip perfectly, as if teasing Naveen’s outstretched hands en route to the back of the net. His celebration took him all the way to the VIP box, where his three daughters saw ‘Papi’ celebrate the way he always has. It had been a while.

The linesman’s flag was pointed to the corner when the referee blew the whistle one last time. A red card that we thought would kill the tie, had seemed to have brought it to life. Hugo Boumous felt the need to shove Miku, and the Venezuelan took some time out to remind the Moroccan of the scoreline and then the head-to-head record of the two teams, this season. Bengaluru had guaranteed themselves a finish at the summit for a second successive season.

Chhetri, meanwhile, had the look of a prisoner who’d served his sentence and had the shackles off, as he made his way on to the pitch with the widest of smiles. To give his discomfort of sitting pitch side context, the man – on multiple occasions during road trips from Guwahati to Shillong back in the day – used to offer drivers of team cars more than what they were due, if he was allowed to take the wheel. The intensity of the hugs that the small blue huddle waiting for the awards ceremony to begin got, told how much the captain enjoyed the night. He even confessed to moving his legs and head involuntarily during every attack. The West Block, in having a little fun with the man, went on to sing ‘who needs Chhetri, we have Miku’. The skipper responded with a smile before reminding us what happened the last time they sang a song about a hat-trick.

There’s something about the way Spaniards find beauty in everything. We managed a high-five with Cuadrat before he delivered what was prose at its finest to the press that had gathered. “Let’s be very clear, it was not me. The boys did the job today. They made the magic happen. Nobody thought the game would finish 3-0, but that’s football. It’s a crazy game and we love it because it gives us so much. That’s probably why there are so many crazy football supporters all over the world. Because of nights like this one. I run out of words to describe these supporters. They are usually our 12th man, but tonight they were our 11th player!”

Later, Cuadrat gathered his troops in the dressing room for what was the shortest post-game speech the team had heard for a while. “Today, I have nothing to say. You did the talking on the pitch.” Everyone let out a cheer. The wolf, meanwhile, growled in approval.