The fear of tears has cowered men since the dark ages, when our ancestors huddled in caves with no fire to burn. The hominin evolution has passed through millions of years, from long-extinct Dryopithecus to designer-clad metrosexual man. But yet, our relationship with the lacrimal gland continues to be problematic. We’d rather blink or stare into the distance — much like M. S. Dhoni did after Chennai Super Kings’ season-shattering loss to Royal Challengers Bengaluru — than let a tear fall.
But what is life without emotions? Without pain and suffering, happiness, and love, we’d just be zombies, killing time.
Our feelings, though, our joy and sorrow, spill over like popcorn in a movie theatre in the communal comfort of a sports stadium. In a sea of shared passion, rare to find elsewhere, our inhibitions melt away like ice in a sultry Chennai July. We are all in it together, swept up in the moment, and freed from the entrenched cultural values that we have always absorbed.
Even the most stoic souls in the Chinnaswamy Stadium could not hide the collective heartache when Dhoni’s usually unflappable expression cracked as he and CSK failed to cobble up the requisite runs to make it to yet another IPL playoff. It didn’t matter if you bled yellow or red; the sight of the legend hobbling away amidst the raucous celebrations of the opposing team tugged at every heartstring present in the stands. With a creaking knee and slowing reflexes, Dhoni’s inevitable march towards retirement felt all too real, and the tear glands were in overdrive.
Tears were also flowing freely 8244 kilometres away at the Liverpool stadium. Inside Anfield, the 60,059 fans sang a rendition of The Beatles’ ‘I Feel Fine’.
“Jurgen said to me, you know
We’ll win the Premier League, you know
He said so
I’m in love with him
And I feel fine.”
Jurgen Klopp’s final game as Liverpool manager ended with victory over Wolverhampton Wanderers amid emotional scenes at Anfield. | Photo Credit: AFP
Jurgen Klopp’s wife, Ulla, wiped away the tears. And even captain Virgil van Dijk struggled with his emotions, while the floodgates opened for local boy Trent Alexander-Arnold. “And I never usually cry,” the right back said. Since setting foot in Merseyside as the self-proclaimed “Normal One” at a “Special Club” back in October 2015, Klopp has been the beating heart of Liverpool. He breathed life back into a city that was drowning in despair, transforming doubters into believers with his attacking and winning football.
“I’m surprised. I thought I’d already be in pieces, but I’m not. I saw a lot of people crying, and I will tonight too because I will miss people. Everything will be fine because the basics are 100% there. You welcome the new manager like you welcomed me. You go all in from the first day. You keep believing. You push the team. I’m one of you now. I love you to bits,” were the crying manager’s last words to his fans.
George Sephton, the club’s DJ since 1971, played the song of the Liverpudlian band:
“Sunset doesn’t last all evening
A mind can blow those clouds away
After all this, my love is up and must be leaving
It’s not always gonna be this grey
All things must pass
All things must pass away.”
CSK and Liverpool will never want this era to pass. For them, there will never be another Dhoni or Klopp.
And as far as our boys go — big and small — we should teach them to cry. Roger Federer cried when he won, he cried when he lost; it made him human, and a true champion.
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