There are few things that unite Indians. We are a diverse people united by a sense of...actually, I'm not even sure what is our national characteristic. One thing that most of do share is a love of cricket. We as a nation love the game. Some of us even been known to watch all five days of an international Test Match.
Yes, I said five days. Watching a Test Match is akin to watching someone paint. It takes a while to figure out what the final picture will be, and, as Test Matches often end in draws with neither team winning, most of them are like watching someone paint the side of a house: they have form and function, but I'll be blowed if I'm going to hang them in a museum of fine art. Every once in a while, there are genuine masterpieces, that remain etched in the memory long after their completion.
The Indian cricket team has always had some wonderfully talented players who are among the most admired in the world. The problem has always been that, like the country as a whole, the total was less than the sum of its parts. Until the millennium.
From about 2000 onwards, India has become a far more consistent, scrappy team, ready to go toe-to-toe with the best of them. In fact, India are the only team not to have a losing record against the all-conquering Australians in this time frame (in fact, I think we lead them 7-6 since 2001). In October we beat the Aussies 2-0 in record-setting style, and we looked forward eagerly to the visit of a rather unsettled England side in November-December.
The English arrived. And they got hammered in the One Day matches. Five matches played, five thumping Indian wins.
And then came 26/11. Suddenly, cricket didn't matter. For once. For a few days.
As a nation we were shaken, even more than usual due to the brazen nature of the terrorist attacks. We needed healing. Now. The healing that only cricket can give Indians (you have to have lived here to know this is true). Most of all, Mumbai needed this, because Mumbai has always been the capital of Indian cricket.
The English, understandably, returned home as the tour was disrupted. And then, incredibly, the team returned to India to re-start the tour. The venue of the first Test Match was changed to Chennai from...Mumbai. In a magnificent gesture, the English team donated half their match fees to a fund set up to aid victims of the Mumbai attacks.
As if blessed by the fates for their generosity and bravery, the undermanned English dominated the first three-fourths of the match. An upset win seemed on the cards. India fought back on the fourth day. The English nosed ahead on the morning of the fifth. Then, Sachin Tendulkar played the greatest game of his record-breaking career (which is saying something), and took India to a historic, cathartic win.
It had to be Sachin, a son of Mumbai. For those hundreds of million Indians for whom cricket is a religion, Sachin is a god. And aren't the gods supposed to provide healing?
Yes, I said five days. Watching a Test Match is akin to watching someone paint. It takes a while to figure out what the final picture will be, and, as Test Matches often end in draws with neither team winning, most of them are like watching someone paint the side of a house: they have form and function, but I'll be blowed if I'm going to hang them in a museum of fine art. Every once in a while, there are genuine masterpieces, that remain etched in the memory long after their completion.
The Indian cricket team has always had some wonderfully talented players who are among the most admired in the world. The problem has always been that, like the country as a whole, the total was less than the sum of its parts. Until the millennium.
From about 2000 onwards, India has become a far more consistent, scrappy team, ready to go toe-to-toe with the best of them. In fact, India are the only team not to have a losing record against the all-conquering Australians in this time frame (in fact, I think we lead them 7-6 since 2001). In October we beat the Aussies 2-0 in record-setting style, and we looked forward eagerly to the visit of a rather unsettled England side in November-December.
The English arrived. And they got hammered in the One Day matches. Five matches played, five thumping Indian wins.
And then came 26/11. Suddenly, cricket didn't matter. For once. For a few days.
As a nation we were shaken, even more than usual due to the brazen nature of the terrorist attacks. We needed healing. Now. The healing that only cricket can give Indians (you have to have lived here to know this is true). Most of all, Mumbai needed this, because Mumbai has always been the capital of Indian cricket.
The English, understandably, returned home as the tour was disrupted. And then, incredibly, the team returned to India to re-start the tour. The venue of the first Test Match was changed to Chennai from...Mumbai. In a magnificent gesture, the English team donated half their match fees to a fund set up to aid victims of the Mumbai attacks.
As if blessed by the fates for their generosity and bravery, the undermanned English dominated the first three-fourths of the match. An upset win seemed on the cards. India fought back on the fourth day. The English nosed ahead on the morning of the fifth. Then, Sachin Tendulkar played the greatest game of his record-breaking career (which is saying something), and took India to a historic, cathartic win.
It had to be Sachin, a son of Mumbai. For those hundreds of million Indians for whom cricket is a religion, Sachin is a god. And aren't the gods supposed to provide healing?
3 Comments:
So sad that India needs such healing, but glad it can be found in something they are ALL so passionate about!
What's the big deal about some bugs with wings and legs?
Same thing with flea markets here in the States. Why would anyone want to buy fleas?!
I figured you would get this one, Liann. You've got to have been in India to understand the phenomenon.
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