Shivering fingers inside Wankhede Stadium’s freezing press box collectively (and aggressively) tapped away at keyboards. Reports that had been half-written in anticipation of a result which looked secure a couple of hours back, had been rendered moot. On the other side of the glass wall, a man struck down by the Mumbai heat and humidity had just pulled off the greatest heist in the history of one-day cricket.

There are several angles to look at Glenn Maxwell’s knock. Stats will paint a remarkable picture. The qualitative brilliance of his shots will make your jaw drop. Reactions, memes, tweets, and Instagram edits infused with uplifting background scores will make you watch and re-watch. But to feel the true essence of what transpired on a Tuesday night in Mumbai, you will need to place yourself at the heart of the crime scene, inside the Wankhede Stadium.

Let’s take you through the journey.

When Glenn Maxwell came in to bat in the ninth over during Australia’s run-chase against Afghanistan, the crowd was firmly behind Azmatullah Omarzai. He had just snared two wickets off two balls, reducing Australia to 49-4. With the new ball hooping around corners under the influence of the lights and the trademark Mumbai sea breeze, it felt as if the crowd ran in with the bowler for his hat-trick ball. 

Maxwell somehow managed to get his bat down in time to a full delivery angled into his stumps. A thickish but soft outside edge took the ball towards slip along the ground. The Afghans appealed for a leg before wicket. Vociferously. Even the crowd appealed with them.

The collective euphoria, aside from the rapidly building momentum, had understandably dimmed their logical thinking. Afghanistan went for the review. As replays showed that the ball never touched Maxwell’s pads, there was a collective sigh of realisation from everyone who thought it would torpedo into the middle of middle stump.

The momentum that had been with the fielding side ten overs back, had well and truly shifted allegiance. The crowd which was wilfully intoxicating itself with one Glenn Maxwell shot after the other, realised that Australia were in with a real shot now. And when they did, you could physically feel the energy around the Wankhede Stadium switch.

It is perhaps that energy, coupled with the Australian physio’s words (and work) that forced Maxwell to stay back and finish the job. Not too long ago, he had found himself not able to move an inch, laying flat on the ground in the 41st over.

Every boundary that Maxwell hit had found cheers all throughout. But now, every ball that Cummins blocked got the crowd going. The crowd’s switch of support was complete. The definition of inevitable had now changed. Maxwell, still dangerously disbalanced but still smashing balls away, now had the Wankhede behind him. Australia now had Wankhede behind them.

Mujeeb started the 47th over with Australia needing 21 more runs for victory. They were still only three wickets away from what would now be a heartbreaking defeat if it were to happen, but the final judgment from the crowd had seemingly arrived. Australia were not losing this.

The first ball didn’t fetch a run. The second and third went into the stands. The fourth, a back of length ball around off stump, was unbelievably smashed past cover for four. And on the fifth, it was game, set, match, take three. Glenn Maxwell had just played the finest one day innings of all time.