ট্রফি থামলে বাচ্চাদের কথা

ব্রমলির মধ্যদিয়ে শেষদশ

আমি still remember the quiet hum of the pitch at St. John’s Youth Centre—cracked asphalt, rusted nets, and boys who played like they had nothing left to lose. Not because they lacked talent—but because they refused to be owned by systems designed to erase their dreams.

Goal-এর मध्ये चुप

Then came August 9th: Black牛 die vs Map托铁路 ended 0-0. No scorelines etched into history—only silence. But in that draw, I saw it again: not failure as defeat, but resistance as rhythm. Each pass was poetry written in sweat and dirt.

Football when it became a Mirror

They don’t need stadiums—they need sidewalks. They don’t need sponsors—they need siblings. This isn’t about wins or losses—it’s about which club remembers you when you were just a boy trying to kick through rain without an umbrella.