After watching them lose 2 world test championship finals in 2
years...
After watching them in pristine form, march undefeated into the final of a
50-over world cup, only to lose it...
After watching them remain unbeaten once again, going into the 20-over
world cup final...
After watching them being reduced to 34-3...
After watching them put up a competitive total of 176-7 despite the
setbacks...
After watching them get pummeled for 14 runs in one over, and 24 in the
next...
After watching them having just 30 runs to defend off 30 balls...
In a 20-over game...
With 2 of the most explosive batters in world cricket at the crease...
After all this...
I watched them dismiss one of the batters, and I thought, “No, please don’t
give me hope...”
I watched more and more dot balls being bowled.
I watched the required run rate climb up, until they had 16 runs to defend in 6 balls.
I watched the first ball being a full toss.
I watched the batter hitting it in the air.
I watched the ball sailing towards the boundary.
I watched the fielder catch it too close to the boundary, losing his
balance, tossing the ball up, going out of the field, coming back in,
completing the catch.
I watched them checking the catch through slow motion replays.
I watched every frame of the replay, for any indication of it not being a
catch but a six.
There was none. The catch was valid. The batter was out. My hopes were still
intact.
I watched the rest of the over, crying hysterically and muttering just one
word, “Please...please...”
I watched an outside edge go for a boundary; I watched a wide ball being
bowled.
With the batters needing 9 runs to win off one ball, I watched the last ball
being hit along the ground.
I watched the umpire; I listened to the commentary; I scoured all my senses to
confirm that it was not a no-ball. That it was over.
And it was.
We had won the world cup.
We had finally won an ICC tournament after 11 years, a world cup after 13
years, and a T20 world cup after 17 years. And we had done it in style,
remaining undefeated, unconquerable, unvanquished throughout the tournament.
The only team to do so in a T20 world cup.
After watching my country’s team crying in disappointment after so many
finals, this time I watched them shed tears of joy. And I cried with them. I
was alone in my room, but I knew millions of my countrymen were crying with
me, too.
During every game, I would try to distance myself from the emotions. I
told myself that the result had absolutely no impact on my life. There was
no reason to worry about the game. My life would be completely the same
whether my country won or not. After so much convincing, building so many
stone walls and fortresses of stoicism and indifference around my fragile
heart, I discovered that this victory had swept all the walls away like an
inexorable thunderstorm.
I cried and cried. I didn’t care if my life stayed the same. I didn’t care
if the things I was stressed about before the game were still very much
present in my life. I couldn’t care less. All I cared about was the
realization that beneath the tough exterior, my heart was, and will always
be, inextricably linked to the game, and to the team.
After all the disappointments...
...I watched my country finally lift the trophy on June 29, 2024.
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