<Written after India’s 2-1 victory over Australia today, but much of the feelings and the blog would have been the same even if we would not have won>
Only a 90’s kid will know that being a 90’s kid is not easy. Perhaps “only 90’s kids will remember” that the internet is full of memes and trivia to remind them of their place in the conundrum of time. One thing common about all these forwards is the invocation of their memories.
So what memory does a cricket fan have of his childhood? Desert storm, Kumble’s 10, Jadeja tearing into Pakistan’s bowling in Bangalore, Dada in Toronto, any of Sachin’s tons? Before we all became polarized over politics, Sachin vs Warne was the only debate we took part in (and wasn’t even much of a debate as there was hardly ever anyone on the other side). But if we introspect with any honesty, these wonderful memories were like oases in an otherwise desert full of not too good memories.
When Sachin scored the wonderful 169 in Cape Town, the rest of the team just folded. How can anyone forget Prabhakar and Mongia shutting shop in that Kanpur ODI with 7 an over required in an ODI in the last 9. Heck, the Indian Team had refused to try and chase 87 in the last hour - months after winning the World Cup. India couldn’t chase 120 in Bridgetown. The Chennai surrender after the super-hero knock. Meek surrenders in Jamaica, Jo’berg, Old Trafford, Sydney.
Gosh. I still wake up sweating at night.
The hallmark of those growing up years was hope. No matter how bad the situation, you would concoct scenarios for the team to crawl out of it to end up victorious. Now don’t lie even you would have done it. Hope was beautiful but it also crushed you. The hope never somehow ascended to the players
Then we grew up in terms of age and cynicism. Witnessing miracles was not part of our daily to-do lists. Priorities changed. Cricket was still always in the front burner, but the emotional involvement decreased. What caused sleepless nights became “Onto the next project, job, house, interview, etc” (PS - Not taking a jab at Kohli, or maybe I am). The tears were replaced by mere devastation at losses. Don’t get me wrong, there were always brilliant performances to keep one hooked but the hope quotient had fallen.
Even after the last series win (also happens to be my last cricket blog before this), I had written about the context of the victory in terms of the cricketing history. But this one is different. This is many levels up in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. This is like the cuddle after sex. For me, the hope was never there (or atleast I hoped it wasn’t there) in dire situations. I was wary of hoping, yet the Team matched the opponents punch for punch, they braved ball after ball, they weathered every storm, they took in every blow, adversities were turned into opportunities. They refused to buckle. They were high on hope. They believed. The tears of joy were back for me.
They never surrendered. The result is a by-product.
Pura bachpan sapno mein nikal daala, aur jab aaj bade hue toh phir bachpana yaad dila dala.
Context makes everything even better. And this tweet provides all the context you need. Add to one youngster missing the last rites of his parent, another missing his child birth. Sledged, abused, bruised, and battered, but ready for the next thing to be thrown at them, ready to prove that they belong, to show that they have not given up hope.
In a brilliant tribute to the team made even before the test ended having Sunny Paji’s voice over (Disclaimer: goose bumps may happen), the maker chose an extended footage of Thakur hitting that six to get to his 50. That partnership (also having a ‘no-look’ six from Sundar, besides a third one) was a metaphor for the tour. With 260 behind with 5 gone, Obituaries written, two people having no business playing for India on that day decided to show grit. Between the 36 in Adelaide, and those 3 6s in Brisbane, so much had changed.
Here’s to hope, and to peaceful sleeps. This series has given so much for everyone to remember, and so much for the 90’s kid to reminisce.
