The battle for Bangladesh's true football heart

The Bangladeshis will argue, shout, and maybe even throw a punch to defend their respective football icon in the Messi vs Ronaldo debate. Photo: Collected

In a country where the national team is struggling with its performance, the true football passion lies in a curious phenomenon: the undying, sometimes alarming, loyalty of Bangladeshi fans to two far-off South American giants, Brazil and Argentina. 

Forget local politics or actual national sports; it's the verbal fisticuffs between the Seleção and Albiceleste devotees that set the stage for the real drama here.

Picture this: a regular neighbourhood tea stall, the aroma of fresh fritters wafting in the air, and everything is serene until someone blurts out that Neymar is overrated. The air instantly thickens with tension. 

A Brazil supporter nearby, wielding nothing but passion and a smartphone wallpaper of Ronaldo (Senior), springs into a defensive stance, ready to unleash a volley of statistics, player bios, and impromptu Samba dance moves to prove otherwise. 

Across the table, an Argentina fan, draped in the blue and white stripes of Messi's legacy, smirks, ready to counter with a narrative on how Maradona was football's true messiah, blessed by his 'Hand of God'. 

Within seconds, a verbal free-for-all erupts. Insults fly, accusations are hurled, and the decibel level rivals that of a jet engine on takeoff.

And what of the Bangladesh Football Federation (BFF) during these explosive showdowns? 

They're like the weary parents of quarrelling twins, trying to keep the peace while nursing their wounds from the daily struggles of managing a national team that sometimes appears allergic to scoring goals. 

It's a thankless job, made all the more absurd when you realise the fervour with which locals support teams thousands of miles away while their own clubs deliver nothing but disappointment. 

Let's dive deeper into this bizarre phenomenon. More often than not, our beloved fans, with their ever-so-excited social media posts, act as if their life depends on Brazil or Argentina's victory. They don't just watch matches; they become the self-appointed guardians of their chosen team's honour. 

When a fan declares, "Messi is the GOAT (greatest of all time)," it's not merely a statement—it's a declaration of war. Should you dare to disagree, be prepared for a tirade that could rival the most heated parliamentary debate.

Our Brazil enthusiasts are particularly notorious. The way they worship Brazilian players, you'd think they personally descended from the heavens to teach the art of football. 

These fans don their yellow jerseys with more pride than they show for any local achievement. They know their stats better than their own national history. Question their prowess, and they'll bombard you with a torrent of YouTube highlights, each more spectacular than the last. It's almost as if they believe Neymar or Vini is the reincarnation of every football great, rolled into one dazzling package.

Then we have the Argentina aficionados, who are equally fervent. To them, Messi is not just a player; he's a divine entity sent to bring joy to the footballing world. They'll tell you tales of his dribbles, his goals, and his unmatched humility as if reciting sacred texts. 

And woe unto anyone who suggests that Cristiano Ronaldo might, in some universe, be on par with Messi. That's heresy of the highest order. They'll argue, shout, and maybe even throw a punch to defend their diminutive deity's honour.

But it's not just about the love for these players. Our fans believe that their unwavering support somehow influences the outcomes of matches thousands of miles away. They organise viewing parties, complete with face paint, flags, and enough noise to wake the dead. 

Streets are decked out in green and yellow or blue and white, as if Dhaka has suddenly been transported to Rio or Buenos Aires.

Meanwhile, the BFF watches in quiet despair. They might try to remind the public of the local leagues, the grassroots initiatives, or even the rare victory of the national team, but these efforts are drowned out by the deafening roars of "Vamos Argentina!" or "Vai Brasil!" 

It's a tragicomedy of epic proportions, as the organisation tasked with promoting Bangladeshi football finds itself overshadowed by the cult-like devotion to foreign teams.

Remember the glorious days of Bangladeshi football? Back in the day, matches between Mohammedan Sporting Club and Abahani Limited would draw crowds that rivalled any international fixture. The rivalry was intense, the stakes high, and the passion palpable. 

Legends were made, and the pitch was a battleground of local pride. Fast forward to today, and those memories are eclipsed by the sight of Dhaka streets decked in Brazilian and Argentinian flags every four years.

Our local talents don't get confused when the cheers they hear aren't for them but for players named Neymar and Messi. It's like inviting a hometown hero to dinner and then spending the entire evening talking about Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio. 

Bangladesh's football team might not have an Oscar-winning performance, but hey, they're ours.

In an ironic twist, the nation's collective football heartstrings are plucked most fervently by players who wouldn't be able to find Bangladesh on a map. We wave their flags, wear their jerseys, and engage in epic debates over who's the GOAT, all while the BFF sits quietly in a corner, wondering if anyone remembers they exist.

It's worth pondering: what if, just for a moment, we channelled a fraction of this passion into our local football scene? Imagine the impact if the streets were awash with the colours of Mohammedan and Abahani once more, if children dreamed of becoming the next local hero rather than an impossible South American superstar. The potential is immense, but it's buried under a mountain of misplaced enthusiasm.

So, the next time you stumble upon a heated debate between Brazil and Argentina fans in Bangladesh, remember: it's not just about football. It's about identity, passion, and a slightly absurd but endearing devotion that makes our country uniquely us. And spare a thought for our local football heroes, who could use just a fraction of that enthusiasm to revive the glory days of Mohammedan and Abahani.

Until then, may the best team win—and may the opponent fans have the strength to endure.

H M Nazmul Alam. Sketch: TBS

H M Nazmul Alam is a lecturer at the department of English and Modern Languages, International University of Business, Agriculture and Technology. 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard.