Even before it was put on paper, Maidaan had the remarkable true-life story on its side. Its hero’s fortitude defies what you believe a human being can do. To my simple mind, just grappling and tackling bureaucracy is a lifetime’s worth of work done. Syed Abdul Rahim had to deal with the problems of a nation that had regions forged together less than a decade ago—financial, political. And it was topped off by his health issues.

Is it in the nature of coach-speeches to get better as the team reaches higher levels in tournaments?

He took the Indian football team from times when the players weren’t given shoes, through when they wore inappropriate, sole-and-soul-crushing ones, to the finals of the Asia Cup. He dealt with forces that didn’t of themselves as a part of the country but had their own warped motivations and agenda.

But S A Rahim’s drive was greater. Greater than his failing health. And this is where Maidaan comes in. It balances the football and Rahim’s physical condition to create pathos that seems only natural. To the extent that the film seems as much an ‘Anti-smoking’ public service announcement as it is an inspirational story. I’m not sure, though, if the injurious effects of smoking on health were so widely known in India in the late-1950s.

In any case, if there is one thing that will remain with me from Maidaan, it is the visual of Ajay Devgn coughing his lungs out. There is this one scene when he enacts a coughing bout, it felt like my insides were churning out. This happened because the makers chose to give this aspect of S A Rahim’s life so much space and screen time. And of course, Ajay Devgn did full justice to it—one of his best performances. While the poker face with a twitch of an eye is his usual, the change in dialogue delivery before and after his health issues surface comes across as effortless.

He is supported well by Priyamani in her short role. But the same cannot be said about the other cast. Especially, Gajraj Rao, his stiff upper lip looked like too much of a put on making his character more comical than villainous. The other members of the football federation seemed like caricatures too. None of the team members either leave anything memorable except maybe their introduction.

Now, that might make you think that Maidaan is only about S A Rahim’s smoking, let me reassure you, the football bits play out well too. I haven’t seen too much football, and just know some of the basics. Yet the football bits in the film are easy to follow. And more importantly, they are engaging.

My heart thumped with the beat in the background. I enjoyed the sound of the kicks and the splashes. The cinematography too goes hand in hand, keeping up with the beat. I feel like calling some of the camerawork, lyrical visuals. The player Balram’s introduction in Secunderabad comes to mind immediately. This action contrasts well with the quieter, calmer frames. As if they are in a jugalbandi, an interplay, feeding off of each other. A lot of its time is used to just ‘be’.

The football bits in the film are easy to follow, even for a non-believer. And more importantly, they are engaging.

On the flip side, that also means the players are all pretty much left at that, their introductions. We don’t know too much about them. While I understand the focus is solely on the coach, it did make me wonder if each player’s life would make for a good story too. That’s not this movie though.

This one doesn’t have some of the other typical sports drama tropes either. For instance, the training montage is saved for much later rather than being a part of the set-up. This one caught me by surprise—the interval drops in at the 1-hour mark in this 3-hour film. Then, the individual versus team is a passing reference rather than one of the main themes. Maybe that is how it was in real life.

In general, that era seemed to be a simpler time. The bureaucracy seemed painful but also easy to get around. Just a show of hands did the trick. The makers also subtly hint at the fissures in the nation along regional lines. The football federation seemed to be composed of Bengalis. And they seemed to protest the inclusion of people from other regions, but the struggle was reasonably easily overcome.

If this was the case indeed, a lot of the drama is out of the picture. Then this sports drama had to rely on how it tells the story, since the what is taken care of. Now, S A Rahim seems like a man of few words. And when he speaks, whether it is with his wife, his son, his federation, or his team, it is pithy and hence entertaining.

Of course, it is a sports film, so it has to have that one big speech. That one is ‘okay only’. Gave me enough time to wonder why coaches save their best speeches for the finals of tournaments. Or is it in the nature of coach-speeches to get better as the team reaches higher levels in tournaments?

So yeah, some tropes stay. And if a movie has to be watched for its protagonist and lead actor, this is certainly one. If not in the theatres because it is a long sit, when it’s out on OTT works too. Meanwhile, there are these little touches that make it worth the three hours you spend on it too—the use of the local script when a city’s name flashes on screen, the remark that 60 years ago was the pinnacle of Indian football, the adorable closing sequence.

– meeta, a part of the audience