A couple of days ago, news emerged that the fan-favourite attacking midfielder of East Bengal, Do Dong-hyun, was leaving the club. Hindol Palit, a die hard East Bengal fan, wrote an open letter address to the South Korean free-kick specialist on Facebook. Here is the entire letter, translated from the original Bengali to English, re-published with permission.
Dear Dong,
I'm writing this with a cloudy heart. I'm in pain. A lot of it.
There's a flood of memories. The club lawn that you walked through on your way out, on that very lawn, on 7th September last year, there was an explosion of joy. And it was all about you. We had started to believe that our prodigal son had finally arrived.
I don't know where everything went wrong. Some say you are a 'flawed genius', a prince who lost his way. Some say you are, in the end, an average player who exceeded himself on some particular moments. I don't know what to listen to. I don't understand such technical intricacies of the sport. All I have are some memories that I want to share with you, because there may not be another time.
Last year, before the Calcutta Football League started, the first team was going through pre-season at Kalyani. My friend Suman had traveled to watch the practice. Once back he told me something strange. He said, Kali da had told him, "Just pray that there's no rain on the sixth of September. If the pitch is dry on that day, this kid will massacre them. By himself." I got very excited.
Then the CFL started. On a cloudy Sunday afternoon we faced Mohammedan Sporting. The stands at the Barasat were literally about to overflow. There wasn't enough room for me and my friend Souvik to seat our butts, we had to stand through the entire game. The first half was mellow. Then the magic began. The first goal: dribbling past three defenders, then a superb finish from outside the box. The next one... two opponents beaten by sheer speed. I remember, after the game we celebrated on the streets of Barasat. It was a mini carnival all the way back home.
Then came the sixth of September. The first Kolkata Derby since Mohun Bagan won the I-League. Both ends of the Salt Lake Stadium were filled to the brink. Just two minutes after the match started, Stand Number Four went into an eclipse, while on the Stand Number One we were having an impromptu Diwali. My friends were going wild. Sayan was yelling like a madman, Soumya was dancing, Souvik was weeping. After the second goal, I hugged a close friend and wept myself. All the taunts and abuse I had faced over the last few months, all the online hatred, those jokes about refugees... it was a bit of balm on the countless scars.
Fast forward to April. Another Derby, this time in the I-League, and the match was taking place far away from Kolkata, in Siluguri. Mohun Bagan were on top form, and if they won this game they were sure to become the champions again. My hands and legs were going numb in anxiety that day. I turned off my phone and sat by the Hooghly River for two full hours during the game. Then the moment I turned on the phone, a call came in from Kallol. He was shouting into the mouthpiece, "Hindol da... we won! Dong scored a brace! We beat them!" I couldn't hold it any more. My feet gave out, I fell to my knees.
At the start of this season, rumours started going around that our new coach Trevor Morgan didn't want you in the team. Every night, I used to argue with Subhajyoti about this. He was sure that you weren't good enough for I-League. I wouldn't give up either; I was convinced that under Morgan your game would improve. In the end, you were there in the Calcutta Football League, but where was the magic? Where was that speed, those incredibly accurate cannon-like shots and that dribbling quality? I attended all CFL games. Every time you got the ball, I thought this was the moment. But it didn't happen. Even against weaker teams you weren't doing so well. I knew then itself that you were on your way out.
Still, you will be in my memories. Along with other moments of magic that stay hidden in the depths of the mind, and sometimes, without warning, float up to the surface. Like that catch by Ashish Kapoor. Or the sixer by Rajesh Chauhan. That dream-like goal by Barisic. Oliver Kahn leaning against the goalpost after the World Cup final. The night Tolgay left our club.
On a lonely afternoon or grim midnight, you will stand over the ball once again, about to deliver those surreal free kicks. The Mohun Bagan players will press against each other to build the wall. You will bend down and re-position the ball. Then you will walk backwards a few steps, measuring every inch to make sure the distance from the ball is just right. You will adjust your socks while looking ahead towards your target with still, unblinking eyes. Now, a few moments of hushed silence. And then, in front of those thousands upon thousands of fluttering hearts waiting on cue for you to set them racing, fairtytales will be written on the finely mowed grass. Again.
Be well, Dong. Be very well.
Sincerely,
A very ordinary fan