Memories of Pelé
Pelé passed away yesterday, my neighbour and friend, Krishna, informed me last night, but she did not know his name. She just heard it on the news, she did not know who they were talking about. She is more interested in maths and science and not at all in sports. As for me, the tv is in the room next to our bedroom. It died a while ago. Kelly bought me a new one. It is a newfangled one. For the life of me, most times I cannot figure out how to switch it on. I think it needs a degree of its own just to understand how to operate it. Or perhaps it has a wicked sense of humour all of its own and likes to amuse itself when it sees me coming. Yes. It definitely likes to taunt us me. Sometimes it cooperates, more often it does not! Most of the time I do not use it unless Kelly is kind enough to switch it on for me. I have resorted to listening to the news on the radio and watching films on my iPad.
This morning on the radio the newsmen announced that Pelé had passed away! Aha! So that is what Krishna was talking about! My mind flashed to the time when my brother was ten years old. It was summertime and Jacky had no school. We were relaxing in the garden in Tehran. The radio was blaring because Jacky was listening a football game that Pelé was participating in. The voice of the announcer was racing fast to catch up with Pelé’s every step! His voice was excited as he described every single move Pelé made! Jacky was just as elated as he echoed after the announcer. “GOAL!” he announced as he jumped up and down. Jacky’s face was flushed in triumph, his fists clenched in excitement. He was thrilled! I remember smiling at Jacky’s enthusiasm. Now I smile at the memory.
My thoughts return to the present. The kettle is on the stove. The teapot is precariously balanced on top of it. The kettle simmers gently as it brews the tea. The classical station is playing a countdown of the one hundred most popular classical pieces of the listeners choices, as it does every year on the last two days of December. Outside the kitchen window a little bird is perched on one of the now bare branches of the rose bush. It peers at me curiously. The dogs are curled up by my feet. Pussycat sits on top of the table staring vacantly into space. All is quiet and calm. It feels so peaceful.
Sixty years have passed since Jacky was that young lad listening to Pelé’s step by step play on the radio. A lifetime has passed since then. It reminds me of what Shakespeare had said about the world being a stage and we are all merely players. We play our part then exit as new players enter. Alas, Pelé’s time is up. He just exited. Farewell Pelé. During your lifetime you made a most positive imprint upon the world of sports. You made many people happy, amongst them, my ten year old little brother and me, his eldest sister, whenever I recall with what joy and enthusiasm he listened to your games and how triumphantly he yelled out, “GOAL! GOAL!” May God bless your memory, Pelé. Rest in peace.
And so the world continues to spin on and on and on into eternity.