Youth and the art of winning

Sporting history, much like any other, is dotted with ‘I was there’ moments. The final ball of the T20 World Cup was decidedly one of those. When Misbah-Ul-Haq scooped the third ball of the innings’ final over into the hands of a jubilant Sreesanth, millions of Indian cricket fans across the seven continents (I am absolutely positive that there was at least one Indian in Antarctica following the action) high fived, chest butted or indulged in other vile celebratory gestures.

This Indian team elicits comparisons with the football club Arsenal in the English Premier League. Both teams were fettered by prima donnas or a prima donna in Arsenal’s case, until recently. Players like Henry, Tendulkar, Ganguly and Dravid have earned their place amongst the legends of their respective games and even at the fag end of their shelf lives can turn insipid matches into memorable ones through moments of sheer genius. Unwittingly though, these megastars may have become detrimental to the teams’ performances by intimidating the younger players through their gargantuan reputations. The rest of the team looked to them for inspiration and when they failed, heads dropped. Experts had predicted that Arsenal would struggle miserably after the departure of their talismanic captain. They are currently top of the league. The brand of football they are playing makes other teams look like a bunch of uncoordinated, ungainly individuals who possess all the grace of drunken men attempting the ballet.

The cricket team entered a major event without the usual media hyperbole and more importantly without any superstars for the first time since that astonishing evening in June 1983. They have now been crowned world champions in the sport’s most recent avatar. Two conclusions can be derived from this victory. The performance of the Indian team has an inverse relationship with the ridiculous media rhetoric that accompanies their participation in any event, and absence of superstars can sometimes be a catalyst for some spectacular team performances. Tonnes of paper and terabytes of cyber-space have been consumed dissecting the former, but the latter was an eye opening phenomenon that needs to be explored and explained further.

An Indian team without Tendulkar, Ganguly and Dravid was given as much chance of winning a cricket match, let alone a world championship, as an ice cube’s chance of surviving in hell. Guess what, the ice cube not only survived but metamorphosed into an avalanche, dousing all cynicism in its wake. Much will be written about the refreshing attitude, the sense of purpose, the owning up to responsibility shown by players barely out of their teens but the primary reason behind these positives was the absence of the need to show deference to any other player in the team. Instead, we witnessed a team bound together by camaraderie under the leadership of a young yet astoundingly astute captain. MS Dhoni made up for the lack of grey hair through an abundance of grey cells, and under his stewardship a seemingly motley crew transformed into world beaters. Of all the players who contributed to the team’s victory, very few came with the baggage of stellar reputations. Yuvraj Singh and Dhoni were the only ones who entered the tournament riding on excellent performances in the preceding 12 months. Harbhajhan Singh, Virender Sehwag and Irfan Pathan were on comeback trails, with huge question marks hanging over their readiness to resume international duty. All others are still fledglings thrust into the limelight of international sport, nay a virtual religion in the subcontinent, with credentials that had yet to pass muster. However, free of the litany of megastars that are usually a part of the team, they produced electrifying cricket and passed through one trial by fire after another with with sparkling colours.

Replace ‘impossible’ with ‘pressure’ and that quote may well have come from Rohit Sharma instead of Napoleon. RP Singh bowled some sensational spells worthy of the great Wasim himself. Sreesanth swung between pedestrian and unplayable, but produced the goods at crucial junctures. Joginder Sharma trundled in at pace which can only be described as ponderous and yet exhibited marvellous temperament in two crunch encounters. Gautam Gambhir, who looks like a bantamweight boxer that has accidentally entered the heavyweight ring, emerged as the second highest run scorer of the tournament with heady concoctions of silken grace and surprisingly brute force. Robin Uthappa played a couple of crucial knocks, all the while giving the impression of a man who will react to an earthquake with a raised eyebrow and a leisurely sip of his favourite drink. The ‘comeback men’ came back resoundingly. Yuvraj played a couple of scintillating innings and giving us moments to cherish for a long long time. Dhoni displayed tactical nous which surprised all and sundry, ensuring that the selectors who made him captain will sleep soundly without the danger of their houses being rioted upon or their pets kidnapped. And to round it all up, the fielding made one blink at times, to make sure that the right match and the right team was being followed. Rohit Sharma’s run out of Justin Kemp was right out of the Jonty manual, and may there be many more!

The triumvirate of Tendulkar Ganguly and Dravid has rightfully earned its place in the pantheon of cricketing greats and we have been lucky enough to witness an era graced by three, four including Laxman, batting maestros. Undoubtedly a few more drops of manna are yet to fall from their bats but Indian cricket will soon be at crossroads and it is not these greying geniuses who will carry it forward. It is the young turks who have earned the right to be called world champions at such tender ages, that will herald the new age in Indian cricket. And based on the past two weeks , it promises much. A new dawn has arisen; let us hope it will not be a false one. For now though, it feels good to be an Indian supporter.