'India! India-ah!' Yes, we got that, but has this World Cup's crowds really been worldly?
World Cup. When NZ's Daryl Mitchell finished with a heroic 134 to take his team from utter defeat to noble defeat, Indian spectators stood up to applaud him at the Wankhede. It was heartening to see this, in what was otherwise a very war-like atmosphere, with stadium DJs exhorting the crowd to sing 1930s freedom songs, bafflingly, against the nice nation of New Zealand.
If it happened the other way around, say we were in Auckland, and suddenly the stadium started doing their rugby chant, the Hakka, and audiences started slapping their inner thighs and calling us to war, I'm sure BCCI would have complained.
As we go into battle finale today, like over a billion others, I'm in awe of an Indian team that seems to have the DNA of a 1980s West Indies team, but with far more wealth and stardom.
They deserve everything. I'm middle-aged, and I've never not seen an Indian team go into a final with a mix of run-rate chicanery and some gods smiling. To see almost Germanic efficiency in cricket makes me think that I barely recognise the country, never mind the team.
Which is why I want to understand the former, because the latter has the good wishes of 1/6th of the planet.
I'm the fallen generation that carried the guilt of Javed Miandad's last-ball six, which segued into liberalisation and a middle-order collapse. Watching entire stadiums vacate after Sachin Tendulkar's dismissal was disheartening not only to fans but also to the next batsman walking in (usually Rahul Dravid). Still, something was happening to India, but no one was sure what.
Safari suit bureaucracy was crumbling. We were a little less afraid abroad. At least the wicketkeeper didn't have to work by day at SBI.
My 30s taught me that no matter how many shirts
