Eugeneson Lyngdoh, the free-roaming attacking midfielder for Bengaluru FC, had burst into space down the left flank, leaving Johor Darul Ta’zim’s burly central defender Marcos Antonio in his wake. JDT’s No. 12, the fleet-footed S Kunanlan raced back to try and prevent Lyngdoh from going further forward.

While he was unable to prevent a crossthat led to a deflected shot by Sunil Chhetri, he was able to land a well-placed elbow into Lyngdoh’s midriff, which sent the former Shillong Lajong player crashing into the hard rubber surface of the running track and into the hoardings. There was further retribution from Kunanlan as he deliberately and viciously shoved Lyngdoh back to the ground just as he was getting up, knocking his head onto the ground. The referee saw only Eugeneson and CK Vineeth’s indignant reaction to that nasty challenge and booked Vineeth for his protests.

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This was the 74th minute.

In the 75th minute, Nishu Kumar was fouled down BFC’s left side and a tired, battered Eugeneson Lyngdoh stepped over the free kick, carefully placing the ball and taking his time. He was booked for his troubles, and protested his innocence yet again. It had been barely seconds since the initial whistle for the foul, after all. From the stands, you could see him bristling at the injustice of it all. He’d been elbowed, kicked, shoved, burnt by the track and then booked for time-wasting all in the space of a minute or so. It was then, as he ran up in his inimitable, elegant way to strike the ball, that you knew something special was going to happen. The delivery to Juan’s head was inch perfect, as was the header. The ball nestled into the top corner, the score was 3-1, and the tie was beyond the defending AFC Cup champions.

An oasis of hope in a desert of apathy

The year 2013 was probably the peak of turmoil in Indian football. A time when the “IMG-R League”, as it was called then, had been postponed, and looked like a pipe dream that could go up in smoke. A time when the poorly marketed and packaged I-League would trudge on, managed and administrated out of habit, and contested by clubs for whom football was largely a labour of love. Fans of different “legacy clubs” argued, bickered and competed amongst themselves, painfully aware of the extremely tiny bubble in which they were operating.

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It was then that these young upstarts Bengaluru FC, with their self-confident foreign manager and their radical new ideas walked up and asked to be weighed and measured.

A surfeit of commemorative (and at times, disparaging) articles, posts and tweets have followed their every move since their inception in 2013. Two titles (and a cup) in three years, headlines screamed a few months ago. They were an outlier in Indian football, it was said, an example of those mysterious quantities called “professionalism”, “good management” and “effective marketing”. Their much talked about supporters had started as a group of a hundred or so at the Bengaluru Football Stadium and had steadily, with the club’s consistent encouragement, grown into a force to be reckoned with in Indian football.

And through the tireless efforts of a hard-working coaching and administrative staff, and a unit of players who have largely played together the last few seasons, Bengaluru FC reached where they did on October 19. The second leg of the semi-finals of the AFC Cup 2016 with a genuine shot to reach the final.

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And we would have the chance to watch it live.

Football is a different beast in person

There is a raw, unadulterated beauty to supporting and watching your football team live at the stadium. The game is an entirely different beast in person, and even more so with an atmosphere such as the kind we were privileged to witness at the Sree Kanteerava Stadium in the heart of Bengaluru. The players’ movement, their regimented approach and exhilarating creativity is in full display. Conversely as are, in some cases, their tiny mistakes, their lack of pace and average technical ability.

On Wednesday night, Bengaluru FC played a nigh on perfect game, save for an anomaly in the 11th minute when they conceded from perhaps the only genuinely threatening move created by JDT all game. BFC’s players were first to the 50-50’s, they were the ones running tirelessly off the ball, and they were the ones ready to back their team-mates and support their coach’s game-plan.

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In the first half, Sunil Chhetri on the left wing and Rino Anto in the right full-back position stretched the JDT defenders and midfielders into extremely uncomfortable positions, making spaces for the central players to move into. In the second, Alwyn George and Nishu Singh came into their own and took over some attacking responsibilities. Cameron Watson, Alvaro Rubio and Lyngdoh sprayed the ball across the pitch with abandon, inviting crosses from the wing and not giving the JDT players an inch when they had possession.

BFC’s pressing was even more notable live, as their leaders in central defence organised the team in front of them impeccably. John Johnson and Juan Antonio probably won every high ball played by a beleaguered JDT, and were first to the ball on most occasions when the opposition playmakers tried to thread it through.

Sunil Chhetri’s moment of magic

When BFC men in blue attack in swathes, it is hard not to imagine the Indian national team playing with such confidence and control, and a large part of that sense of familiarity comes from the man who is the star of the show for both club and country, Sunil Chhetri. The way he rose for the first was excellent (another superb delivery from Lyngdoh), but it was the second that literally took the breath away.

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As he received the ball from CK Vineeth on the left edge of the penalty box, he had to move away from the goal to evade a defender and make some space for himself. Even so, there were no less than four players running to try and close him down just it looked like he was going to try the unthinkable and take a shot from 35 yards out.

They did not even get close. And neither did the keeper.

A moment of spellbinding brilliance, and a goal befitting any competition in any league. All 21,378 at the Sree Kanteerava Stadium rose, strangers hugging each other and shouting in a state of delirium.

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It was pure, it was magical, and it seemed like the beginning of a new era in Indian sport.

Let’s go Bengalu-ru, let’s go. Next stop: the final.