Akshay Gopalakrishnan recalls his favourite match at the Men’s Cricket World Cup: India’s historic win over Sri Lanka in the 2011 final.
I’d just finished the first year of that beguiling passage known as college life when April 2, 2011, happened. Which meant I was still a star-struck schmuck, who thought watching cricket was the most fulfilling part of being alive, and scorned wilfully at anyone who mentioned “career”, “future”, and (especially) “exams”. In other words, I was an 18-year-old.
A little background for you all: I was born in Chennai, that most celebrated and undying city of cricket tragics. I grew up in the capital city of Karnataka, which was, and continues to be, a hotbed of talent. And my father hails from Mumbai, India’s supreme cricketing cradle, the city that has produced 41-time Ranji Trophy champions.
Essentially, it meant that my orientation to cricket happened parallel to orientation to religion, culture, language – you name it. Conversations with peers were about why Tendulkar was great; conversations with elders were about why Gavaskar was greater.
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So anyway, April 2. Summer break has just begun, which means my only job is to find a place with cable television and uninterrupted power supply. A friend has suggested going to another friend’s place and watching it together. But that doesn’t materialise for some reason. So I choose to stay at home. I’m by myself as mum’s out of town and dad’s at work because ain’t nothing more fun in life than end-of-month financial reporting on a Saturday afternoon with a World Cup final about to take place.
I’m perched in front of the television at noon. Two excruciatingly long hours later, Sri Lanka win the toss, and my naive 18-year-old brain is hoodwinked into believing that they’ve gained a Psychological Advantage™.
Two hours and eight minutes later, that belief is validated with perhaps the most iconic straight six in World Cup history. What follows is an extraordinary display of the emotional diversity that governs sport. Dhoni remains cool as ever, a vibrant smile lighting up his face. Yuvraj openly weeps. Deafening roars fill up the Mumbai air. And Tendulkar, its favourite son, takes a lap of honour, on the shoulders of a future icon.
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Mumbai didn’t sleep that night. India had ascended to the summit after 28 years. A national hero had earned his due.
A few short months later, Indian cricket would still be enduring sleepless nights; India lost 4-0 in their Test series away to England. At the end of the year, they toured Australia and suffered the same fate.
The rest have either followed suit or made transient comebacks at best. Dhoni is the lone exception, and even his career appears to be on its last legs. The events that transpired in the aftermath make the 2011 World Cup win even more special in hindsight. It was the final treasure, a fitting farewell for a bunch of India’s finest cricketers. Having grown up watching that generation, it gave me, and thousands of others, a final glimpse of many great childhood heroes at their peak. Indian cricket for me hasn’t been the same since. I’m not sure if it ever will be.
