As the dust settles on Australia’s sixth world title and India’s failure to round off a dominant campaign with silverware, a sense of what could have been lingers for the host nation.
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Unbeaten over the first six weeks of the tournament, their whole campaign felt like a continuous march towards holding that trophy aloft at the largest stadium in the world, a moment that would have perfectly encapsulated their standing in the modern game both on and off the pitch.
Instead, that dream shattered into 130,000 small pieces across an absorbing final where Australia played the near-perfect game, reading the conditions better than India and adapting their gameplan to what confronted them.
Much of the post-final debrief has centred on almost cosmic forces at play; the inevitability of what happens with Australia in World Cup finals or how India’s recent failure to land a killer blow in World Cup cricket lurked behind them like the grim reaper.
But there is a simpler explanation for India’s untimely demise. That actually, without Hardik Pandya, they were far from the unstoppable force their results suggested they might be. Without Pandya, an adaptable No. 6 and versatile fast bowler, India were always vulnerable. But until the final, that vulnerability was masked by the unsustainably brilliant form of several key players.
So significant is Hardik’s all-round skill, his injury demanded two changes. Firstly, he was replaced in the XI by Suryakumar Yadav. Yadav is one of the game’s most elite T20 hitters but despite ample opportunity, he just hasn’t clicked in ODI cricket. From his ODI debut in July 2021 to the start of the 2023 World Cup, only Shubman Gill had played more ODI cricket for India. He was given almost every possible opportunity to succeed but averaged less than 28 after 30 ODIs. The other change was that Shardul Thakur was replaced by Mohammed Shami.
Without Pandya, India could realistically only field five bowling options. Thakur, a less penetrative bowling threat but more capable batter than Shami, was discarded. India were left with an unproven option at six, and someone at eight who would bat 11 for India’s two main title rivals as well as having absolutely no wriggle room in the bowling should someone go down with an injury or have a bad day at the office. These are typically not components of champion teams.
These shortcomings were not immediately made evident. First of all, this was a strange tournament. Unlike World Cups in other sports, the league structure in the group phase hammers home exactly how teams compare to each other. Really, there were three teams at the top – Australia, India, and South Africa, let’s call them ‘the Big Three’ – then the rest.
The Big Three won 21 of their 22 matches against non-Big Three opposition with the Netherlands’ victory over South Africa the only exception to the rule. Every other Big Three loss was to each other. India only lost to Australia, Australia only lost to South Africa and India and the Proteas, other than the Dutch defeat, only lost to the two finalists. In essence, given the disparity at play, there were few opportunities for the best teams to see their deficiencies sufficiently tested, so great was the gap in quality. Winning streaks could be accrued without having significant meaning attached to them.
Partly down to the quirks of this World Cup format and also the remarkable form of Rohit, Kohli and Shami in particular, India’s vulnerability wasn’t exactly on display as they kept racking up win after win. But the warning signs were there. Against England, they quickly abandoned the aggression that otherwise characterised their tournament after the loss of two wickets inside the first six overs, before losing their third (Shreyas Iyer) just after the opening powerplay. They adapted their method and nudged up to 229, in part thanks to Yadav’s most impactful innings of the tournament. That 229 was more than enough on that occasion as inspired spells from Jasprit Bumrah and Shami blew away a hapless England, but for the first time, the route to defeat was there for all to see. With such little batting to come, early wickets would prompt a dramatic change in approach.
And so it proved in the final. Shubman Gill hacked a pull to mid-on, Rohit was caught by a blinder at cover and just like the England game, Iyer fell just outside the powerplay. The onus fell on Kohli and Rahul to rebuild. They did so in a manner that suggested a total awareness, perhaps too much so, of how little batting there was beneath them. The 30-over period between overs 11 and 40 was quietly remarkable and remarkably quiet. India hit just two boundaries in that 150-ball spell, surrendering all initiative and any hope of an imposing total. The balance of their team tipped the risk-reward calculation for any sort of counter-attack against them and it meant that Pat Cummins could contently shuffle his pack and sneak overs in from his sixth and seventh bowlers – a luxury India can only dream of – without repercussion. Travis Head and Mitch Marsh, for instance, bowled four uneventful overs for nine runs between them.
India edged up to 240 on this occasion and it wasn’t nearly enough as Head in particular was comfortable taking risks in the middle overs India didn’t dare consider. India hit two boundaries between overs 11-40, Australia hit 17. Yes, that was in part conditions changing in Australia’s favour but also a consequence of two sides balanced differently. Without Hardik, India were always disproportionately vulnerable should they lose early wickets.
Their runners-up medal shouldn’t be made out as the aberration it has been. They did not fluff their lines on the biggest stage. Their production was always in danger of suffering without someone who might not have been their biggest star, but who now stands out as their most irreplaceable.
