Dear Mohun Bagan,
Hi. Kemon achhen? We assume pretty good, considering you've just become the second team to win an ISL league shield and cup double. Well played, yeah? Both titles were well deserved, and there's hardly a doubt that you were the best team in the land through the length of the season. One of the best we've seen ever, even.
Which is why we are writing this to you.
Now, do you remember that winning goal from Saturday? Of course, you do, but we're sure you wouldn't mind a quick rewind: Greg Stewart playing the ball in, Jamie Maclaren stroking it into space with a touch of pure magic and then snapping an instant shot away that gave Gurpreet Singh no chance. It was stardust, the kind of moment that makes people go wow, regardless of loyalty, the kind of moment that only the best players can produce, the kind of moment you expect from a team of the quality of Mohun Bagan.
Why, then, did we see only one such proper moment across 120 minutes of football? Why have we seen only smatterings of it across the whole season? In the final, there were just three other half-moments that had those watching get on the edge of their seats -- a Sahal Abdul Samad dribble that ended in a saved shot, an Ashique Kuruniyan flick and feint that ended in a blocked shot, and a Stewart through ball that defied all normal definitions of passing angles and ended in Maclaren miscontrolling it. One proper, three almost: for a squad that is brimming with talent, is that really enough?
It's not a one-off, for it's been true through the season too. You've scored so many goals (52, at 1.92 a game), but so many of those were... mundane, un-aesthetic, bleh. Set-pieces, high-volume low-quality chances, penalties. It doesn't matter, of course, whether the finish is sexy or the build-up memorable -- those two trophies sitting in your office are proof enough -- but how exciting would be if more of them were?
Imagine, the full force of the talent in that squad of yours unleashed. Isn't it some squad? Where most teams have one or two game changers, you have six or seven. Who else in India can even dream of bringing on a quartet of the likes of Dimi Petratos, Stewart, Sahal, Ashique (all of them outright matchwinners on their own) off the bench? Is it really all that wrong to wish for more from you, as individuals, as a collective? To hope that you don't put us to sleep as you methodically rack up win after win while you play the percentages to perfection?
Just look at what the individuals in your team are capable of -- how Liston Colaco can either take on three at full pelt or unleash a fadeaway volley from the edge of the box; how Manvir Singh can bully his way past an entire flank; how Apuia and Anirudh Thapa can smack it from range and make stunning late runs; how Sahal and Stewart dance with the ball; how Cummings and Maclaren and Petratos can produce moments of singular brilliance with just a touch inside the box. It's a shame that you deny us more screenings of this magic.
It's not just the individual, either. Look at what you are capable of as a collective. Comfortable with 76% possession (the Jamshedpur semifinal) or 26% (at times during the final against Bengaluru); at ease with playing down the wings, building up passing moves through the middle, countering at pace or plain ol' route one. There's an inherent unpredictability there that really ought not be 'boring'. Yet it somehow it feels like it is. The control you exercise on and off the ball is stellar, and the reason behind your astonishing win %, but do you have to sacrifice so much of the pizzazz you are capable of for it?
You can come back to us with 'this is Indian football, just what do you want us to be doing', but the simple truth is that if any squad in India ought to have it in them to consistently produce magic, to overwhelm the senses with attacking elan, to play in a manner that defies stereotypes and meme templates, it's yours.
This is, of course, a naïve plea, a cry of desperation from a neutral craving for more. No one in your camp -- from management to players to fans need give a damn -- but it's a plea we feel must be made.
Cry havoc, Mohun Bagan, please. And more than once in a long while, let slip the dogs of war. It'll be so much more fun if you do.
Warm Regards,
Just a football fan