It
was a strange feeling one which I hadn’t lived through ever in my fan life - rooting
for India without the associated anxiety or the desperation. My stomach didn’t squirm
in discomfort during the death overs, my blood didn’t boil over a misfield, nor
did I stand awkwardly with half a foot on the TV hall and half a foot in the
prayer hall.
Probably
because T20 was a new unheard format at that time, maybe because the big guns
sat back at home, or because India just undid the horrors of the 50 over world
cup by the victory in England, or it was just that I couldn’t come to terms
with a long-haired Bollywood model leading an Indian team. Thanks largely to that
confusion, I, for once, was able to do what I have envied seeing a lot of
others do. Enjoy a game of cricket that India played.
I
had as much fun as Robin Uthappa when he bowed when India won a cricket match
3-0, neither did I go into depression when we lost to New Zealand in the first
match of the Super 8s, and surprisingly remained level-headed even after Yuvi’s
sixes, and DK’s moment of Jonty Rhodes to dismiss Greame Smith. I looked down at
India’s semi-finals entry with a touch of contempt like the way an Arsenal or
Man Utd supporter would look at a Carling Cup. Afterall, it was just a T20
World Cup.
Whoever
wrote the scripts for sports, and whatever sadistic pleasure they got from
taking away the brief period of happiness I was going through! That dreaded
feeling of anguish, desperation, anticipation and fear returned when I knew about
one of the finalists. Pakistan does that to you.
It
wasn’t just about beating Australia in Semi-Finals, it was already dreaming
about the showdown at Wanderers. And for the first time during the T20 World
Cup, the calculators were back again, the TV went back to its rightful place in
the prayer hall, so were the heated abuses hurled up at everyone when Hayden
was blazing through and doing the Bhangra along with Bhajji. I was back being
the only way I knew I could be as an Indian cricket fan.
There
are certain things in your memory that gradually get forgotten with new nicer
things happening in your life. Whatever were to happen further in my life, the
night of Sept 24 would be among the final few holding fort. For in a span of 3
hours, I went through every bit of emotion anyone could go through.
I
wish I could put into words what I went through when Umar Gul Umar Gul dismissed Yuvi and Dhoni, or when
Imran Nazir started the way he did, or how I felt after that 21 run over of
Sreesanth. And when Misbah scooped the ball up in the air, I wish I hadn’t shut
my eyes and had the courage to watch it live.
