One Game Away

The tri-color flags fly high. The drums beat on. The ecstatic screams ring out loud. The fireworks light up the night sky. The arch-enemy has been vanquished and sent home. Victory is ours to savor. The moment seems to last forever.

At least we wish it does.

India have earned a place in the Cricket World Cup final after defeating neighbors and perennial rivals Pakistan. It’s been 28 long years since we have won this trophy. 28 years of agonizing defeats and bitter disappointments. Now, the cricket-crazed fans of the world’s second most populous country have another chance to hope, to dream, to wish upon a star.

Can this team cross that final hurdle when so many promising Indian teams in the past have flattered to deceive? Will MS Dhoni lift the same trophy that the legendary Kapil Dev brought back home in 1983?

This is the question in the hearts and minds of every Indian. This is the question that dominates our thoughts and our conversations. Has our moment finally arrived?

Nothing brings this vast country together like the sport of cricket. We forget our differences, our petty squabbles over religion and politics. We are united now in a common belief, a shared dream. Oh how we have longed for this moment.

Our opponents in the final, the island nation of Sri Lanka, have been brutal in destroying their opponents. They hammered the hapless English out of the park. They brushed aside the ordinary New Zealanders with relative ease. Their confidence is high, their form is solid, their cricket is exceptional.

Contrastingly, India have taken the scenic route to the final. The batsmen held their nerve and squeaked through in a tense run chase against the powerhouse Aussies in the quarter-final. This was followed by disciplined bowling and fielding effort to earn an emotional victory over Pakistan in a much-anticipated, high pressure game.

Here the Indian team is at the final then, one game away from immortality, amidst a fanatic home crowd in the country’s commercial capital. Mumbai. The home town of Indian cricket’s greatest legend. Sachin Tendulkar is worshipped more ardently and by more people than most Gods. On the verge of a historic hundredth century, he will have one last chance to win the ultimate prize for his country.

While I was growing up, my father used to regale me with tales of the 1983 World Cup which India won. They were tales of triumph against odds, of glory, of public elation. These tales always left me in wonder, wishing that I had been there. I followed the fortunes of the Indian cricket team for all my adult life. For years, Indian teams showed so much talent but failed to deliver. For years, we waited for victory, for glory. But the tales of 1983 remained just stories handed down from an older generation.

We, the battle-hardened Indian cricket fans, have suffered through enough painful disappointments and nearly moments. Our hunger for this trophy has built up over the years to a deafening crescendo. We need our own stories now to recount for future generations. We need our own moments of mass euphoria, of collective ecstasy, of prolonged jubilation.

Come Saturday April 2nd, 2011, our moment of reckoning has arrived.