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Arre saiba, that’s a beautiful thought—but I’ll push back a little, moga. The boy from the hills has heart, no doubt, but our Goan lads learn the game on the wet sand at Calangute, where the ball skids different, and you can’t buy that instinct with any academy fee. A cricketer’s son from Porvorim might have a branded boot, but he still can’t read a pass like the chowk kid who played barefoot till the ball went flat.
Arre, this bench and its old nail, you feel it in your hands, na? Same for these Goan boys in the courtyard—no theory, only practice. But sometimes, a big-money player from a small village also gets that real *sweat*... delay in giving that chance, that is the true injustice.
Kasam, you talk true! That Goan Premier League winger from Siolim? His first coach was a coconut tree and a muddy patch. All the academy flash in Pune can't teach that zai.
