To an average follower of the sport from around the world, it is another world cup final match. It takes place every four year, one team out of the many, winning and keeping the trophy with them for the next four years. But, for a few, or shall I write for 1.4 billion souls or more, it is so much more than just a world cup final.
It matters for the Australians too, but not as much as it does for the other stakeholders. And there are reasons why. For an Ozzie, it can be another colourfull feather in their hat. Maybe the most colourful one, stopping the Juggernaut of another superpower of the sport, in their home country, in a final match, in THE final match, it certainly is special, but the Aussies have done that before. The absolute final boss of cricket has done it so many times that this would just be one more of it. But for India, it is just not the same.
Yes we have won the world cup before, one as recently as 12 years back but lets look at the reasons, as to whom it means so much more and why.
The elephant in the room, the 90s and 80s born. That is, a major chunk of the population of the country, were seeing the rise of India as a cricketing power for the first time. They dint see Kapil Dev and Gavaskar in their glory years, but only heard their tales. They witnessed the nerve wrecking bowling greats of Pakistan, The haughty Englishmen, The fatal west indians, and beyond that they saw the invincible Australians. Never did they imagine their home country to rise up, face such opponents, and not come out dusted in the end. Not until some iconic once in a lifetime matches like the Desert Storm in Sharjah.
Such matches, once in a while, just kept us hooked to the sport with hope, that one day, we will arrive. Persevering through losses, bad cricketing bureaucracy, and even clutches of crime syndicates and match fixing, this generation kept their hopes against hope, sometimes putting it all in just one player, so much hope, that it was greater than their belief in god. Evolving through it all, a team was build that looked so strong, that they were finally expecting the men in blue, to do the extraordinary, and announce after 20 years, that a new cricketing power has taken birth. Studded with Stars we reached the final of the world tournament, facing the final boss, The Yellow Jerseys. All their hopes and dreams cumulating since childhood, were shattered ball after ball by attacks of the Australian Batting line up. We had lost to them before, in the same tournament and even before that several times, but never so badly, that it got etched forever in our memories. It was traumatic. So much trauma for those teenagers and kids of 2003, that since that moment, whenever we faced the australians, we got PTSD from that final match.
Life went on, as we grew up, our cricketing stars, started to fade once again, some getting injured, some into bad form, some simply emptied, our faith started to dip from its all time high and hit rock bottom in 4 years span. Until the Mahi era began, winning the first T20 world cup in '07, This generation who had been yearning for a worldcup win got some relief, but not much as it was just not the same as the dominant format of the game. This was not it. But Mahi was there for more magic. He transformed the Indian Cricket Team's scene with a mindset of a military general, and in 4 years we were ready to conquer the world, and we did. The worldcup was set in India, We faced the Aussies in the quarter finals. Sweaty palms fans of the most demanding generation prayed, to let them witness victory over the aussies in atleast one ICC Knockout match, the prayers were answered and How. There was no stopping for team India, and history was made. Mahi's Warriors lifted and gifted the world cup. We had arrived. The India of modern cricket was finally a superpower. But something was still missing. That PTSD had not been over with. Ignoring that we soared to new heights with Mahi and company, with the Champion's trophy in our cabinet 2 years later. And 2 years after that, We were on the unforgiving turfs of Australia and New Zealand, to retain, our hard earned, dearest posession.
Arrived the semi-final. We were set up against the Aussies in an ICC Knockout once again, this time in their home. The team that seemed invincible a while ago, got hit with a margin of 5 shy of a century. The ghost of Yellow Jersey was their to haunt us again, for as long as now.
Today, there is no Mahi, no Sachin. The team is in the hands of the players, who grew up with this generation, who still doubt themselves when they stand against the mighty kangaroos. The last of the players whom this generation can relate to. With them retiring, the flame of aggression, that relevance, that passion of these fans will retire too. This is the final dance of this generation of cricket fans. The men in blue face their worst nightmare, The Australians, on the biggest stage one more time after two decades. Hope we get the better of them.
