With the World Cup on, a large part of the planet is strutting around with a bloated sense of national pride. Barring certain traditional European football powers who left in ignominious defeat, even the countries already out of the tournament take a certain satisfaction in having got this far at all, and many of those whose teams never stood a real chance in the tournament now swap national allegiance for regional pride. Take Ghana, for example, which as the only African team still in the tournament now carries the hefty expectations of that entire continent. And in the midst of it all us, when it comes to national or regional pride, Southasians are left feeling a bit left out.
Not to say we don’t have our loyalties. Head to a bar and you’ll see fans of all the traditional powers sporting Chinese knock-offs of their team’s jerseys, celebrating or cursing as and when appropriate. Our allegiances, however, tend to be fickle, and with little to restrict us, we often throw our weight behind whoever we feel has the best shot at winning, or even whatever team has the most attractive striker. Southasian teams have never so much as come close to qualifying for the World Cup, and considering where are teams stand now, it will be long time before we ever do. Just to illustrate the point, I remember Nepal taking on Saudi Arabia in a qualifier that, if memory serves me right, ended about 21-0 in favor of the Saudis. Now before the non-Nepalis among you launch into chuckles at that sad result, I advise you to take a sobering look at your own country’s qualifying record. Even if Southasia did have a contender from the region, given the history of bitter sport rivalries we carefully cultivate on our cricket grounds, I doubt we could ever really find a footballing champion among the regions’ nations.
Despite the grim scenario, though, we continue to love our football. True, we might not be as fanatic as the South Americans, but many of us play it in our schools, follow the European leagues, and patiently clue our non-fanatic friends in on the latest news come World Cup time. That our passion perseveres just goes to show that we really do love the game. Which is why it’s always uplifting to be reminded that Southasian football does matter, even if in small ways.
I recently stumbled across a little gem of a documentary, The Other Final, about a football match between Bhutan and Montserrat, played to coincide with the 2002 World Cup final. While Ronaldo and Co. dismantled the Germans in Yokohama, the world’s two lowest ranked teams kicked off to play for recognition as not the world’s worst. If, like me, you’re a bit jaded with this World Cup, where the football often takes a back seat to the bombardment of marketing and various players valued in the millions seem content to while 90 minutes away aimlessly slotting the ball around midfield, the documentary serves as a reminder of what makes the sport beautiful. The documentary can get a bit cheesy with its take on how sport can bridge cultures, but that really is the most important point of it all. Other than their football records, you couldn’t pick two more disparate nations if you tried. Mountainous little Bhutan meets Montserrat, which, as I found out from the documentary, is an absolutely tiny island in the Caribbean. Here are two countries that in essence didn’t even know the other existed, coming together for a passionate game of football. I won’t give the result away, since you can watch if all for yourself. Below is a link to the first part of the film on Youtube, and from there you can follow the links in the sidebar to work your way through the rest of it.
It’s a great testament to the beauty of football, and a reminder to Southasians that despite being a long way from the sport’s highest echelons, our football is still me meaningful and inspiring. If you happen to be among the people still baffled at why the world takes a silly game so seriously, this just might show you.

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