From the opening ceremony to the most popular and least popular teams, I believe that World Cup has everything to do with poetry and nothing to do with football. The glamour of the artistes, musicians, dancers, rappers and fans, football becomes insignificant. There is no politician in the world that can accomplish the feat of gathering 64 nations from across histories of imperialism, borders of tyranny, politics of injustice and make them sit in the same stadium for more than one hour. There is no reason why a black and white leather ball redefines unity in a more rational way than hundreds of Protocols, UN meetings, Government efforts, ratifications and so on and so on and so on and so on. It just defies logic. And that is why The World Cup has everything to do with poetry. Most poetry defies logic; or does it?
I wrote this poem below after the infamous head butt of Zidane, who got the golden boot after that world cup. His career was dented but he left a memory in all of us. I’m not sure what I’ll write about this year.
World Cup 2006!
Head butt me on my chest.
Amidst all the cheers and applause!
Head butt me on my thighs.
I’ll open them for your pleasure.
Head butt me on my back.
We’ll fall and roll down together.
Head butt me on my head.
So I can score a goal with my tongue.
Head butt me on my feet.
I’ll dribble your face into my net.
Head butt me on my ears.
I’ll listen to your every fear.
Head butt me. Let the whistle blow!
Let them scream. Let’s give them a show.
Head butt me. Lose the game.
My love for you will be the same.
